Quinn was as eager to get the feeding done as Kendra, especially after the way she’d kissed him when the kids had left the barn. He didn’t make conversation while they worked and neither did she. Hay flakes were delivered with brisk efficiency and the job was finished in record time.

“You know, we don’t have to make the pina coladas first,” he said as they walked quickly back to the house.

“Yes, we do. I’m so touched by the trouble you took to set up our evening.”

“I promise you’ll be touched if we go straight to bed.”

“We’re not going straight to bed. We’re going to make our umbrella drinks, fix some munchies and take them into the bedroom. I want that music back on and—”

“Our clothes off?”

“That’s a given.”

He smiled. “How far you’ve come in less than twenty-four hours, Kendra McGavin.”

“I can’t help it if you’ve got such a great body that I want to ogle you as much as possible.”

“Backatcha, lady. Just so you know, while we were tossing hay flakes into the feeders, I was picturing the fun it would be to get naked and have an actual roll in the hay.”

“It would be very, very prickly.”

“I didn’t mean literally rolling in it. I’d put a blanket down.”

“Are you suggesting that we might have sex in the barn in the future, Mr. Sawyer?”

“I’m saying it’s on the list. We’ll take this one adventure at a time. Assuming we can wrangle the necessary privacy.”

“No kidding. I could have kicked myself for mentioning to Cody that his bear’s likely in the attic.”

“You recovered nicely.”

“Faith helped. Cody’s oblivious.”

“Yeah, well, that’s natural. He’d rather not think about us doing stuff.”

“I know.” She grinned at him. “But I like thinking about it.”

“You and me, both.” One saucy comment and he was ready to grab her and try out a few Kama Sutra moves. He restrained himself. They had all night, after all. But his jeans pinched his privates as he climbed the porch steps and opened the door for her.

She went inside and headed straight for the kitchen. “Lock the door, please,” she called over her shoulder.

“Lock it? I thought you never—”

“I don’t, but Cody was ready to come in and sort through his things in the attic. Any one of my boys could take a similar notion and barrel into the house without thinking, especially if they’ve blocked out the possibility that we’re doing anything in here.”

He twisted the deadlock and followed her into the kitchen. “Don’t they have keys?”

“Yes, but locking the door would be enough of a signal that they’d hesitate to use the key. That’s the moment they might remember that tonight isn’t the greatest time to come in unannounced.” She lifted her blender out of a cupboard and set it on the counter.

“They’re used to doing that?” He opened the fridge and took out the containers of food.

“Sure.” She plugged in the blender and pulled a cutting board out of another cupboard. “I’ll bet your kids are, too.”

“I suppose they are, now that you mention it.” He was seriously distracted. The door was locked and they were alone. Why weren’t they kissing yet? Oh, right. She wanted to organize the food and drinks first. “We’ll need to heat the food.”

“What’d you get?” She came over to investigate and her arm brushed his.

She was in kissing range, but he restrained himself. “Some things on skewers, some dumpling-type deals and egg rolls. Shouldn’t take long to warm up. Oh, and I got sweet and sour dipping sauce.” He popped the top on the take-out boxes.

“Looks perfect.” She walked away, rummaged in another cupboard, and came back with a cookie sheet and a pair of tongs. “Here you go. I’ll start on the pineapple.”

“Thanks.” He transferred everything to the cookie sheet, put it in the oven and set the timer on his phone. Then he brought up the pina colada recipe and held the screen so she could see it, too. “Didn’t know if you have a recipe.”

“Somewhere, but since you have one handy, let’s use that.”

“Measuring cup?”

“Cupboard above the sink.” She sliced the pineapple lengthwise, cutting through the top and laying out the two halves. “Then you don’t lock your door, either?”

“Nope.” Watching her create the pineapple boat was addictive. He forced himself to concentrate on his part of the operation and opened the rum. “There’d really be no reason to lock up, unless...” Unless she came to visit. He’d nixed that, though, hadn’t he? Was that for her sake? Or for his, so he wouldn’t have to deal with potential awkwardness with his sons?

Maybe a little of both, but mostly the decision would benefit him. He measured the rum and dumped it into the blender. “I just realized the setup we agreed to is unfair to you.”

She stopped slicing and looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“If I come down here all the time, you’re the one who takes the heat.”

“It’s not that bad. The boys are getting used to the idea.”

“Except I’m doing what I’ve always done, conducting my private life out of sight of my kids. Whereas you have to explain yourself to your sons and worry that one of them might stumble upon us making love.”

She smiled. “You’re worth it.”

“Thank you for that, but—”

“Quinn, neither of us planned for this to happen. It turns out we’re dealing with my family, not yours, but you didn’t set it up that way on purpose. If anything, I’m the instigator. I invited you out here.”

“But I’m the one who arbitrarily decided that I’d be visiting you and not the other way around.”

“Which is logical. Roxanne’s here, too.”

“Would you like to come to Spokane?”

“Of course I would if we had only ourselves to consider. Seeing your ranch would be fun. Getting a peek at your studio would be exciting.”

“Then you should come. I want you to. I’m proud of my ranch, and you could meet—”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“I’ve told my boys nothing’s going to change. If I go up there and meet your family, it’ll look like a next step, an escalation.”

Who cares? But he didn’t say it out loud because he knew the answer. She cared.

She’d laid the ground rules before they’d made love. No husband and no live-in boyfriend. Their relationship must not be allowed to disturb the status quo. Any sign that it might would signal the end.

He certainly didn’t want that. “I see your point. I don’t like the idea that you can’t just come up there, but I get it.”

“Good.” She glanced at the blender. “How’re the pina coladas coming along?”

“Your bartender got sidetracked, but he’s on the job, now.” He added cream of coconut, coconut milk and pineapple juice to the rum. “Some ice and some of that fresh pineapple and we’re ready to create this sucker.”

“How many servings does it make?”

“Four.”

“That sounds about right.” She’d scooped out both halves and mounded the pineapple chunks into one half.

“The pineapple looks festive.”

“Does it make you think of Tahiti?”

“Absolutely.”

“Me, too.” She spooned several chunks into the blender. “Think the food’s warm enough?”

Time to get this party started. “Depends on how hot you want it.”

She picked up her cue. “I want it hot.” Plucking a chunk of pineapple from the mound in front of her, she turned, her eyes heavy-lidded as she sashayed over to him. “Want some of this?” She slowly brushed the pineapple back and forth over his mouth.

“Uh-huh.” He bracketed her hips, snugged her up against his crotch and held her gaze while she fed him the pineapple. His bad boy rose to the occasion.

“Oh, my goodness, my fingers are so sticky.”

“Allow me.” Grasping her hand, he took his time licking pineapple juice from her fingers.

Her breathing changed. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Want more?”

“Depends on what we’re talking about.” He circled her palm with the tip of his tongue.

Her eyes darkened. “What are you talking about, cowboy?”

“Not pineapple.” As he lowered his head, aiming for her saucy mouth, his phone let out the annoying beep he’d set for his timer.

Her laughter was low and seductive as she wiggled out of his embrace. “I want it hot, but I don’t want it burned.”

“Picky, picky, picky.”

“You’ve got that right.” Snatching up a couple of potholders, she took the cookie sheet out of the oven. “These all look great. Might as well start the blender.”

“I need to fetch the glasses from the bedroom. Be right back.” He took his phone, called up the Polynesian music he’d found, and left it on the nightstand. He grabbed a couple of the leis, put one on and looped the other one over his arm before lifting the tray with the glasses on it and going back to the kitchen.

She’d finished transferring the food to a platter. “Done.” She turned around. “Now we—Quinn! You’ve been lei-ed.”

“In one sense, but I’m holding out hope for the other kind.” He crossed to her and slipped the second lei over her head. “Now so have you.” He captured her face in both hands and gave her an open-mouthed kiss. He couldn’t seem to stop, either. She tasted too much like heaven.

Evidently she had more brain cells working than he did, because she drew back and gulped in air. “The food’s getting cold.”

He knew that. He just hadn’t been able to make himself care about anything but her tempting mouth. “Here’s an idea. Take the food into the bedroom. Then I might manage to fix the drinks without needing to kiss you some more.”

“I’ll do that.” She backed away from him, removed the glasses from the tray and put the platter of food on it. Then she grabbed napkins from a holder and took off.

After adding ice to the concoction in the blender, he had his finger on the switch when something, likely his guardian angel, made him glance at the counter. The lid was lying there. He shoved it on and flicked the switch. What an unholy mess that would have made.

Had he ever been this bonkers over a woman? Well, yes, more than thirty years ago, when the solution for such powerful feelings had been simple. Marry the girl. It sure as hell wasn’t simple this time.