Chapter 19

Millie sat in the center of her couch, a throw tucked snuggly around her legs and the remote control in her hand. Though it would take a mere flick of her finger to power the television up, she didn’t bother. The floor show taking place right in front of her was more enjoyable to watch than anything she’d seen in the past two weeks.

Every square inch of the coffee table in front of her was covered. Avery must have used every clean bowl, dish, plate, and platter in Millie’s cupboards. She stared down at the array, trying to make heads or tails of the logic behind the arrangement. A dish of peanut M&M’s in autumnal colors nestled against her hip. A bowl of puffy cheese curls tucked into the cushion on her other side. Pints of ice cream arced across the coffee table, lids off and spoons jabbed into them. She was surrounded by the love of her friends. An open box of Godiva truffles. A tub of buttery popcorn. Rainbows of candy. Every variety of salty snack. And in the center of the smorgasbord—a pizza.

Not some crazy, burn-the-lining-of-your-esophagus pizza, but a nice, plain cheese pizza. With extra cheese. Comfort pizza.

Kate walked into the room with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm. Millie smiled gratefully as she watched her friend work the cork from the bottle with a twist of her wrist and a hushed thwunk. Had she been left to her own devices, Millie would have yanked and pulled at the corkscrew until she broke the cork. Then she would have poked it down into the bottle and drank it anyway, claiming that a little flotsam never hurt anyone.

“I’m not helpless, you know,” she said as Kate made room for the bottle among all the other offerings.

“We know.” Without missing a beat, Kate pulled a bottle of water from each pocket of her track pants and wedged them into the couch cushions. “One bottle for every glass of wine,” she instructed sternly.

“She’s the booze monitor,” Avery huffed as she came back into the room carrying the open case of bottled water. “I’m in charge of junk food. Anything you don’t see, you tell me. I know a guy at the market,” she added, waggling her eyebrows. “I get free delivery.”

Kate slid down to the floor with an audible groan, then pushed back until she was propped against the sofa beside Millie’s knees. “Avery, trading tit for taters isn’t exactly free.”

Their friend had the good grace to laugh at the crack as she fell into the tiny living room’s only other piece of furniture, an overstuffed armchair that Ty would have made look like it belonged in a kindergarten classroom. Millie smiled at the two women. How lucky was she to have friends like these? Reaching down, she gave Kate’s shoulder a pat. “Plenty of room up here.”

Kate shook her head and stretched her long legs out in front of her. “Nah, I’m more comfortable down here.” She reached for the remote, and seconds later, the television lit up with the logo of a movie-streaming website. “Are we going nostalgic with John Hughes, mildly bitter and blatantly satiric with Rob Reiner, or the comedic genius of Mel Brooks?”

“Or my personal favorite wallowing movie of all time: Fatal Attraction?” Avery chimed in.

“I told you, no bunny boilers,” Kate retorted in a tone that said she’d make Avery run laps if she could.

“Fine.” Avery pouted for a second, then brightened. “Thelma and Louise? Heathers? The Women?”

“Guys,” Millie said, interrupting their banter.

Kate blinked. “Hmm?”

Avery’s forehead puckered. She hated being interrupted midflow. “What?”

Millie inhaled through her nose, surveying the array of caloric comfort her friends had provided for the second time in her nonexistent menstrual cycle and gathering the courage to ask the question plaguing her since Ty walked out of her life. “Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Both women did excellent owl imitations, but neither offered up an opinion. Their silence made her nervous.

“I mean, not like a real mom, but more like a…” She trailed off, unable to finish the presumptuous thought.

“Stepmom?” Kate ventured, her voice tinged with equal parts caution and optimism.

“Yeah.” The second the confirmation was out of her mouth, Millie rushed to qualify the question. “Not that anyone has asked anyone to be one, but…in general.”

“Depends,” Avery said at last. “Are you worried you’ll be a Disney-caliber stepmother?” She wagged her head, and the riot of curls flew all around her elfin face. “No. Not even close.” She shrugged. “If you’re shooting for June Cleaver—”

“Or Donna Reed,” Kate chimed in.

Avery acknowledged the addition with a nod. “—or even Carol Brady, I’d say you’re lacking a certain, I don’t know, Stepford quality.”

“You could definitely pull off Peggy Bundy,” Kate assured her.

Avery snapped her fingers. “Marge Simpson.”

“No, wait! Lorelai Gilmore,” Kate crowed, sitting up straighter. “Smart, funny, the edgy-sarcasm thing, but totally hip and cool.”

Beaming her agreement, Avery reached for a relish tray filled with licorice whips, Skittles, Hot Tamales, and a neatly stacked pyramid of unwrapped Rolos and snagged a handful of rainbow-colored candies. “Yes, you can definitely do a Lorelai Gilmore thing. She was really good with that little mutant Christopher had with the flaky chick.”

Kate snorted. “And Luke’s DNA dork of a daughter.”

“Not to mention Rory. Duh.” Avery pulled a grimace, then cocked her head. “You know, I liked Luke’s daughter, April. I thought she was a nice kid. It’s not her fault she had a schizophrenic mother.”

“Schizophrenic mother?” Kate asked.

“Same actress played another part in an earlier season.”

Millie watched the two of them go back and forth. If they weren’t discussing her life with such blithe references to television characters, she would have been as enthralled as any spectator with center court seats for Wimbledon. But it was her life they were discussing. And she’d asked her two best friends what was possibly the most soul-bearing question she’d ever asked anyone.

“Hey!” Much to her gratification, both women jumped. Avery even had the good grace to choke on a Skittle. Millie waited until the younger woman was done pounding her chest and doing a self-Heimlich. When her coughs downshifted into excessive throat clearing, Millie nodded to the bottle of wine. “Wash it down.”

Not waiting to be asked twice, Avery grabbed the bottle and downed a healthy swig.

Millie counted to three as she fought for patience. “Can we leave fictional characters out of this discussion and try to stay somewhere in the vicinity of reality?”

Kate looked affronted, but only for a second. “You asked a question. We were trying to give a little context.”

“I asked if you thought I’d be a good mom.”

“And we said yes,” Avery asserted.

Millie searched her friends’ faces for confirmation. “That was a yes?”

“Well, yeah,” Kate said.

“Of course,” Avery concurred. “Remember? ‘Definitely not Disney’?”

“And definitely not a Nick at Nite mom,” Kate reminded her.

“But a real kind of mom.” Avery shrugged as if the conclusion was obvious. “One who does her best. Loves fiercely. Sometimes you might screw up, but I bet you’d do the job right most days.”

Without so much as a tingle of warning, an appalling rush of emotion engulfed Millie. Every doubt and worry she’d been wrestling with since Ty walked out of her house evaporated. Hot tears scalded her eyes and clogged her throat. The cold lump of ache lodged in her chest exploded, scattering fragments of raw need like shrapnel.

Her hand trembled as she clamped her fingers over her mouth, trying to hold in a sob. It was no good. A shudder racked her body, and the low, keening moan seeped out from between shaky fingers.

In a heartbeat, the bowls and bottles surrounding her were displaced. Kate wrapped her long, strong arms around her tight. Avery scooted in close and Millie sighed as she sank into their comforting embraces. At last, sandwiched between the two best friends ever to walk the earth, she let go.

“Oh God.” She gasped between bouts of hysterical, snotty sobbing.

“I know,” Kate crooned.

She stroked Millie’s hair clumsily, but with such tender affection Millie cried even harder. Kate squeezed tighter, and so did Avery. Millie might have protested on any other day, but today, she needed this. Wanted it. The second her harsh sobs subsided, Avery took advantage of her vulnerable state and pressed a hard, smacking kiss to her temple.

“This isn’t a tragedy, Mil.” Avery spoke the words with quiet conviction. As if this were a subject she knew she had to make clear for a final exam. “Tragedies don’t allow for disorder. Their path is set from the beginning, and the end is inescapable. No one is going to die from this.” She leaned her head against Millie’s, as though she might get her point across via mind meld. “If anything, this is a comedy. The plot is sloppy and chock-full of errors. You and Ty have both been trying so hard to stay disengaged, but everyone watching this farce of yours play out knows you’re not.”

Millie tensed, offended by her friend’s lighthearted choice of words. “Farce?”

But Avery didn’t back down. “Yes, a farce. Right now, it’s a little more Blake Edwards than Noël Coward, but you get what I mean.” She squeezed harder. “It’s not funny because it’s happening to you. I understand, but try to take a step back.”

Millie wanted to, but she couldn’t move so much as an inch, much less take any kind of step.

“You want him, he wants you, but he’s married to her. Then he’s not married to her anymore, but you’re all gun-shy because you can’t call the shots, so you try to hold him off by making up all sorts of ridiculous rules. He chases you around, and you let him catch you. Of course, the poor audience doesn’t get to see the frolicking and fucking taking place behind closed doors. Suckers should have paid for better seats.” She drew a dramatic breath before plunging ahead. “Mari pops up with a super surprise baby, and everyone scatters, doors slamming all over the place.” She chuckled. “Hell, we should try to get Neil Simon to write the script.”

“Avery,” Kate warned.

But Millie shook her head to stop her. Avery was right. This wasn’t a tragedy. Ty was going to have the kid he always wanted. Maybe it wasn’t happening in the way he’d imagined, but that didn’t mean his plan for his life couldn’t change. And so could hers. It would be different. Not simple. Definitely wackier. But maybe better.

“No, she’s right,” Millie whispered, lifting her head as the truth settled in. “This is a farce.”

The three of them clung to one another for a second longer, then Avery released them. Kate’s arms fell to her sides, but a deep furrow creased her brow. Out of habit, Millie reached over and smoothed the wrinkle away with her thumb. “Keep that up, and Aunt Millie will be filling your Christmas stocking with botulism shots.”

A faint smile curved Kate’s lips, but it vanished almost as fast as it came. “Since when is a farce a good thing?”

Avery waved the question away. “Common misconception. A farce is a form of comedy. Broad comedy played for laughs, so it gets a bad rap. But comedies usually have happy endings.” She smirked and fell back against the arm of the sofa, her gaze locked on Millie’s profile. “All we need to do is figure out how to get past all the door slamming and get you to your happily ever after.”

Millie resisted the urge to make a Drew Barrymore comment. One slip, and these two would be back to vomiting bits of pop culture. “Might be easier said than done.”

Kate pursed her lips, then dismissed the notion with a brisk shake of her head. “Nah. This is a man we’re dealing with. They are not complex creatures.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” Avery pushed into the armrest and practically catapulted herself from the sofa. “Come on. Might as well start with the big guns to show him we mean business.” She looked down at Millie, her hands planted on rounded hips. “Show us the naughty underwear you bought.”

“Naughty underwear?”

Kate nodded, approving Avery’s opening salvo. “It really is amazing how weak a scrap of lace can make someone. Pathetic, actually.” She rose and picked her way carefully through the elaborate array of junk food and adult beverages. “I try not to think about how weak men are when it comes to sex. I hate to admit I married such easy prey, you know?”

Avery followed her toward the short corridor leading to the bedrooms. “I understand. Anytime I find myself tethered to one of them for more than, say, an hour or so, I feel the IQ points eroding away.”

Kate paused in the doorway and looked back at Millie. “You coming, or do you want me to let Gloria Vanderbilt Steinem here be your fashion consultant?” She tipped her head in Avery’s direction and raised both eyebrows.

“If I get to choose, I’m burning all the bras… Do you have any macramé panties, by chance?” Avery asked on cue.

Fueled by fear, Millie launched herself from the nest she’d allowed them to build around her. “Oh no you don’t,” she warned. “Stay out of my underwear!”

Laughing, Avery plucked the open bottle of wine from the collection of goodies. “You’d better come supervise then.” She nodded toward the bedrooms and speared the air ahead of them with the neck of the bottle. “Let Operation Bag a Moron begin!”

* * *

She was nervous, and the realization was enough to spur her on. Millie Jensen didn’t get nervous. Not in front of cameras or under fire from dozens of rabid reporters. She had ice water in her veins. Even the coolest free throw shooters looked like basket cases next to her. She didn’t get het up over anything short of a semiannual shoe sale. Certainly not over a man.

Squaring her shoulders, she tipped her chin up and stepped cautiously around the corner of the house. The backyard was dark, but she knew from her previous sojourn that straying too far to the right would set off a series of motion-sensor lights. The last time she snuck up on him, the gate had been unlatched. Millie was praying she’d be lucky again. She picked her way across the flagstone patio toward the back of the house. Once again, the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall provided the only light on the ground floor. Like the last time, she could see the outline of his chair, but this time, she failed to spot the man himself.

Cupping her hands, she pressed her face to the glass and peered into the gloom. Then a voice came from behind her.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were casing the place.”

Millie jumped and whirled, slapping one hand over her mouth to muffle her yelp of surprise and the other to her hammering heart. Ty lay stretched out on one of the patio lounges behind her, hooded sweatshirt zipped to his throat and his hands buried deep in the pockets.

She squinted into the darkness, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the dim glow coming from the pool lights. She clutched her own jacket—a black wool peacoat Kate insisted was a must for any covert operation—tighter and started toward the man in the shadows. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

Ty snorted but made no move to stand and greet her. “You are a true Southerner. It’s over fifty degrees, Millie.”

She looked down at the long legs crossed at the ankles. He wore track pants and a pair of white, low-cut athletic socks. The outfit shouldn’t have been alluring, but to her, it was. This was Ty at home and relaxed. He wasn’t a snappy-suit or silk-tie guy, though he wore them well. He wasn’t even the jeans and tee type, even if he filled both out as if they were made expressly for him. No, he was a man who padded around in his socks and wore his T-shirts until the collars started to fray because he believed the breakdown made them feel softer. And she loved him more for his foibles.

And so much more.

More. A word she hadn’t allowed herself to entertain for a long time, but now, more seemed to be right…there. All she had to do was reach out and grab the chance. Exchange her safe life of order and control for one of chaos and adventure. But to have more, she’d have to risk it all. Her whole heart. Not only the part she so desperately wanted to give to Ty, but the others too. The corners she’d closed off so long ago, she’d almost forgotten they existed.

Her knees trembled and threatened to give way, so she beat them to the punch. Sinking to the side of his chaise, she looked Ty straight in the eye. “I never thought I’d be a very good mom.” She saw surprise register on his face but didn’t wait for a response. Talking almost more to herself than him, she forged ahead. “Which is ridiculous, really. My mom was great. So was her mom. I had tons of good role models.” She paused and drank in a deep draught of night air. “But my ex wasn’t really an…encouraging man.”

“He’s the one who made you doubt yourself,” Ty said, his voice gruff with anger he didn’t bother to hide.

Millie smiled at the knee-jerk assessment, then ducked her head. “For a little while, yeah. But then he became the guy who made me want to prove myself.” She wet her lips. “The more he belittled me, the more I wanted to show him what I really was.” Her smile faded into the barest curve of her mouth. “Did I tell you my daddy taught me to play poker?”

“No.”

Notching her chin up, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m good.”

“I have no doubt.”

“I waited. I let him deal hand after hand, but then I had a miscarriage, and he announced to God and the world we’d try again as soon as possible, and I knew I could not let that happen. If we had a baby, I’d never leave him. I’d never get out.” This time, she didn’t bother masking her true feelings with a smile. “I made an appointment at a nearby clinic as soon as I had recovered. I had an implant done. Then I told him Dr. Watkins said the miscarriage caused irreparable damage,” she enunciated the last two words with extra relish. “I was a dee-vor-say before Christmas. Best present I ever gave myself.”

His eyes widened, then narrowed. “He was an ass.”

Millie nodded. “Ancient history.” She brushed the subject of her brief stint as wife and possible mother away with an impatient flick of her fingers. “Karma kicked in not long after. I tried not to get pregnant, but instead, I got cancer. At least I beat it. I’m grateful for that.” She forced a quick smile, but it felt like a grimace. “I wish I could say I regret the choices I’ve made, but I don’t. Not really. Cancer or no, I can honestly say I don’t think I ever wanted to have a baby.”

“There’s no law saying you have to want kids.”

A bitter little laugh popped out. “Yeah right. Maybe not for men, but women…” She trailed off, her gaze fixed on the gently undulating water in the pool. “Anyhow. I like kids.” She flashed a wary smile. “I mean, I’m not an ogre.”

“Not at all green.”

Gathering her courage, she dragged her attention from the pool and met his gaze. “I may not have wanted to have a baby, but I do think I’d make a fairly decent stepmother.” He looked so taken aback by the assertion, she rushed into the breach. Unfortunately, the only words she could conjure were the debates still echoing in her head. “Not like Carol Brady good, but maybe like Julia Roberts in the movie with Susan Sarandon.”

“Stepmother?” He sat up so fast she would have toppled off the edge of the chair if he hadn’t grabbed her. Incredulity etched into every line in his handsome face, he searched her eyes. “Did you just propose to me?”

“Well, no,” she said, her mind reeling. “I mean, yes. Maybe.” Frustrated, she stopped searching for the right thing to say and let her thoughts run loose. “I’m not proposing we get married so much as you let me do this with you. Be with you.” He didn’t respond, which did nothing to stem the flow of babble. “That is, if you and Mari—”

“There will never be a ‘me and Mari’ again,” he said gruffly. Then he gave her a little shake as if testing to see if she was real. “I’m only interested in me and you. Haven’t I been telling you from the start?”

A tremulous smile quirked her lips, but she wasn’t exactly positive if they were running on the same track. “So you think we can still have a you and me?”

He huffed a laugh of disbelief. “Are you kidding? As long as you’re okay with you and me and baby making three, then yes. Hell yes.” He gave her one more shake, then hauled her against his chest like she were no more than a rag doll. “Yes. God yes,” he murmured as he rained kisses on her neck, jaw, and cheek.

“I don’t know how to do this parenthood thing, Millie. To tell the truth, I’d pretty much given up on it ever happening and made my peace.” He took a shaky breath, then pressed his cheek against hers so his lips were at her ear. “I sure as hell never wanted to do it this way, but if this way is the only way, then I want you with me. I need you.”

A shudder ran through her, but it wasn’t fear or dread. No, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins was laced with anticipation. “I need you too.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Millie,” he whispered in her ear. “But you’re going to have to buy me a big, fat ring.”

She laughed, all the worry and tension flowing out of her on a shiver once his lips found the pulse in her throat. “I really wasn’t proposing.”

“Then maybe I’ll have to do the honors.” She heard his deep inhale as he forced himself to pull away. “Millie, will you—”

She silenced him with a single finger pressed to his lips. “Always pushing,” she chided. “Let’s table the marriage talk for one day soon and figure out how we’re going to handle the other stuff first.”

A stubborn frown stole over his features. “Nuh-uh. Answer me now. We can set a date later.”

She pursed her lips as she took his measure and reviewed her options. Ty knew what she was doing and called her out.

“Oh, come on. All I’m asking for is a simple yes or no. Everything else we can negotiate, but you have to give me this much now.”

Tickled by the determinedly mulish set of his jaw, she leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the muscle ticking below his ear. “Yes,” she whispered. “Good press or bad. Babies or no babies, yes. But I get to choose my own pizza toppings.”

“Deal.” He kissed her hard and fast to seal the bargain.

“And you proposed, so I get the big, fat ring.”

He nodded once. “Done.”

Resting her head against his chest, Millie smiled as she listened to the steady thud of his heart. She loved the constancy of the beat. Strong. Unhesitating. If any man embodied the term wholehearted, it was Tyrell Ransom. And he loved her. That oh-so-dependable heart was hers. And it came wrapped up in the pretty package of one utterly delectable man.

She smiled at him. Every inch of her body was trembling with cold and excitement, but her grin never faltered. He was looking at her as if she’d swished the winning basket in a national championship. She needed to tell him she loved him. She wanted him to know how much having him in her life had changed her. More than anything, she ached to ask him to take her to bed.

But when she opened her mouth, none of those things came out.

“I’m scared shitless.”

He barked a laugh. The sound of it carried out into the night beyond the patio lights. “Me too.”

She made no move to pull away. For once in her life, she wasn’t trying to finagle a little space or planning an exit strategy. Staying put felt good. Damn good. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure out the angle and plan our attack on life.”

“Okay.”

Realization struck. Angling her head back, she peered up at him, squinting to make out his features in the dim light. “You know I love you, right?” The declaration came fast and breathy, but at least she got the words out. At last.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Took you a damn long time to figure it out.”

Unperturbed by his cockiness, she burrowed back into his embrace. “You love me too.”

“I guess we’re even.”

Reassured, she hugged him harder, hoping to steal some of his body heat. “I’m also cold.”

“Me too,” he whispered, brushing a kiss over the top of her head.

“I wonder if we can be clueless and scared but warm in your bed.”

“Maybe.”

Heaving a reluctant sigh, she peeled herself away and stood, offering her hand to him. His fingers were cool but still warmer than hers. She heard the pop in his knees and Ty’s quiet groan of pain as he rose from the low-slung chair and made a mental note to kiss those creaky knees once she had him at her mercy.

“Let’s get inside.” Ty allowed her to pull him toward the sliding doors but stopped short. When she slid him a questioning glance, he only ducked his head and shuffled his ginormous feet.

“What?”

“I locked myself out,” he confessed in a low voice.

Not sure she’d heard him right, she cocked an ear in his direction. “What?”

“The door. I must have accidentally hit the thumb lock when I came out here. Mike has a spare set of keys. I was going to call him to come let me in, but…” He let the rest trail off, then stepped forward to cup a hand to the glass. “My phone’s inside.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Millie moved to the door and peered through the treated glass into the darkened great room. The television flickered, casting its eerie, blue-white glow over the empty armchair. Sure enough, she picked out the rectangular shape of a cell phone perched on the arm.

“Why did you come out here?”

He shrugged. “Chambers was yammering on NSN. The house was empty. I’m having a kid with a woman I don’t love, and I couldn’t even call the woman I do love.” He pursed his lips as if deciding if he’d covered everything. “I guess I needed some air.”

She studied him. “Have you had enough?”

“Enough what?”

“Air? Sulking? Self-flagellation?”

“Can anyone ever get enough self-flagellation?”

His quick response made her grin. “Nope.”

“But I would like to go inside. With you,” he said, his expression earnest. “If you’ll let me borrow your phone, Mike isn’t too far from here.”

Millie snorted derisively. “We don’t need Mike.”

“We don’t?”

She gestured to her feet. “I have the perfect footwear geared to breaking and entering. Sturdy but stylish.” She pursed her lips and studied the house before heading toward the slope along the side. “You never close the bedroom window, but it’s too high for me to reach. I’m gonna need something, or someone, tall to climb, but I can get in.”

Ty chuckled as he followed her to the side of the house. Stopping under the partially open bedroom window, he stooped and made a cradle out of his hands. “Never thought I’d be helping someone break into my own house.”

“Yeah, well, I never thought I’d be so hard up as to seduce an innocent single dad, but here we are.” She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank God the alarm is disarmed. I’m in no mood to play spin doctor tonight.”

“How about plain old doctor?” he asked as she took a practice bounce on the ball of her foot.

“Okay, but I hope you’re up for a super-invasive examination. Possibly stirrups.”

He snickered but held steady. “Who said you get to be the doctor?”

“Because I’ll be the one controlling the locks.” She pressed a quick smacking kiss to his lips, then flexed her knee. “Ready? Here we go.”

Millie pinwheeled her arms as she flew into the air like a circus acrobat. Grabbing hold of the windowsill, she yanked at the screen one handed. “This looks so much easier on TV.”

Ty pivoted to position himself under her. Seconds later, she felt him pressing up on the soles of her boots. She glanced down as the pressure on her straining arm muscles eased. He had her. And together, they could handle anything. Even custom windows with screens that fit like a glove.

The corner of the window screen popped free from its frame. Millie wrested the remainder from the tracks with a growl of triumph. Ty’s voice floated up to her.

“This is turning me on. Is that wrong?”

“Not at all. I’m the hottest cat burglar in town.” With another grunt, she leveraged the window up as far as it would go. “Doing okay?”

He peered straight up her legs. “Best view ever.”

Millie chuckled as she adjusted her hold on the sill. “And I’m not even wearing a skirt.”

“In my mind, you are.”

“Get ready to push, big guy. I can see the bed, and I want in.”

“Tell me you love me, Millie.”

She scoffed. “Now is not the—”

“Tell me.”

“God, you play dirty,” she hissed down at him.

“I play for keeps. Now, tell me you love me, Millie, then crawl your fine ass through my bedroom window. I have sixteen fantasies playing out,” he said through gritted teeth. “They all start the same.”

Millie couldn’t help but smile. His stubborn streak was almost as wide as hers. They were going to have a damn good time together. “I love you, Ty.”

“And you’re in.”

He thrust her up and through his window with a growl that seemed to come straight from his soul. Her palms hit hardwood. She tucked her head and rolled, coming up into a neat little crouch worthy of a Hollywood stunt double. “Damn, I’m good at this,” she whispered to herself.

As if he could read her mind, Ty shouted up from the grass below. “Stop plotting your life of crime and let me in.”

Millie casually strolled through the main floor, then sauntered down the steps to the lower level. She could see his shadow looming beyond the wall of glass. He rapped impatiently on the slider, but she took her time, stalking toward him like a cat picking out her every step.

“Hurry up.”

“So impatient,” she murmured, then blew him a kiss through the smoked glass. “What’s the password?”

“Headline News,” he retorted.

“Nope.”

“TMX,” he said, giving the glass another sharp tap.

“Z,” she corrected. “It’s TMZ, and no. That’s not the password.”

Ty’s chest heaved as he let his curled hands fall helpless to his sides. “I love you?”

Millie unlatched the lock but slid the door open only enough to show her face. “Try again. This time like you mean it.”

“I love you,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering. “Now, if you don’t let me take you to bed, we’re going to give the world something really newsworthy.”

She smirked. “I like a man who thinks highly of himself.” He pushed through the door, slid it shut behind him, and flipped the lock. “Ooh! So forceful and commanding.”

Ty snickered as he dipped a shoulder and threw her over his back in a firefighter’s hold. “And I like a woman who knows when to be quiet.”

Millie laughed as he started for the stairs. “Well, maybe one day, you’ll meet a nice girl.”

“One can always hope. Until then, I guess I’m stuck with you.”

“You are.” Millie spread greedy hands over the ridged muscles in his back. “And I plan on holding you hostage for a while, my handsome Coach Ransom.”

For more Love Games
check out book one in the series

Love Game

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