“Daddy’s home!” Harper called out the next day as she and Mari sat in front of the coffee table playing a game of Candy Land. Harper leapt to her feet and ran to Hank, throwing her arms around his legs before he picked her up.

Mari stood, her heart pounding, and when he looked her way, the memory of the kiss they’d shared the night before threaded through her, filling her with pure joy that was quickly followed by the depths of despair.

“Looks like you’re playing Candy Land,” he said to Harper as he set her down.

“Yes.” She slid her hand into his. “Come play with us.”

* * *

Harper tugged Hank forward, and as he walked into the family room, his gaze was on Mari. Throughout his workout that morning his mind had continually gone to her, wondering how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, if she’d been able to put aside her feelings. Because he hadn’t. The more he tried, the more he wanted her. Maybe it had something to do with her being out of reach, but he didn’t think so. He found her alluring, lovely, sweet, talented…wonderful.

Why did things have to be so complicated?

As he approached her, she kept her eyes on him, never once looking away, almost like she was challenging him—or maybe herself—to hold herself steady despite all that had happened, all that had changed, since the day before.

He was the first to break their stare, looking at the game board on the coffee table. “Looks like you’re in the middle of a game.”

“We can start over,” Mari said, and Hank looked at her sharply. Was there a double meaning there?

No. That didn’t make sense. They’d already agreed to start over, to just be friends. Even after their heated kiss.

“Okay,” he said.

“You sit there, Daddy,” Harper directed, pointing to the floor in front of the end of the coffee table. Harper and Mari sat across from each other, Harper to his left and Mari to his right. He would have preferred to sit beside Mari, but after he’d told her they had to put aside their feelings, he couldn’t contradict that so soon.

“I’ll be the red guy,” Harper said as Mari shuffled the cards.

They began the game, Hank acutely aware of Mari and everything about her—her smile when Harper said something cute, the bit of paint under one of her fingernails, the strands of hair that he wanted to tuck behind her ear. But what captured his attention the most was the fullness of her lips, how smooth they were, how kissable. Knowing firsthand how those lips felt when they were pressed against his, Hank had trouble tearing his gaze away, trouble restraining himself from reaching over and dragging her against him.

“It’s your turn, Hank,” Mari said, her voice soft.

He lifted his gaze from her mouth, and when their eyes met, he could see that she was remembering their kiss too. And he knew she had enjoyed it every bit as much as he had.

* * *

This was torture. How was she supposed to live like this? How could she sit there so calmly, mere inches away from him, the memory of being held in his arms still so fresh, and be expected to act like he meant nothing to her?

It was impossible.

Especially when she could see her feelings reflected in his eyes.

Not even trying to force her desires away, instead, as she watched him draw his card and move his game piece, she let her wanting of him soak into her bones and fill her up. Why fight it? It was no use anyway. She was falling for him and falling hard. Fighting it only made her more miserable. Instead, she would embrace it.

It wouldn’t change anything between them—she’d agreed they couldn’t act on their feelings and she would stick by that—but at the same time, she wouldn’t suppress her feelings, her desires. She would just let them be.

“I win,” Harper called out a few minutes later.

“Yes, you did,” Hank said. “Good job.”

“Lunch is ready,” Mrs. Stillman said as she entered the room.

“Thank you,” Hank said, then he stood and held out his hand to Mari.

Mari looked at his hand, her pulse fluttering, then she met his gaze. It was intense, focused solely on her.

Hesitating for only a moment, she placed her hand in his. The instant they touched, fire ignited inside her, racing up her arm, burning her deep inside. Still, she didn’t pull away, didn’t break their touch. Instead, she gripped his hand as he helped her stand.

Harper scampered after Mrs. Stillman, headed toward the outside dining area. They were alone. At least for the moment.

Inches of space separated them, but the chasm between what they wanted and what was possible was as difficult to bridge as the Grand Canyon.

“Marigold,” Hank murmured, his hand still holding hers.

The scratchiness in his voice left no doubt that he was struggling with this as much as she was.

She met his gaze as she stood in front of him, her heart pounding with a yearning for what she couldn’t have. He stared down at her and it was as if her whole body was reaching for him, begging him to draw her into his arms, to kiss her again.

But he didn’t.

He blinked once, slowly, then he released her hand.

Sighing audibly, he lifted his gaze toward the French doors, then he looked at her.

Waiting for him to say something—anything—Mari nearly held her breath.

“Lunch is ready,” he said, then with a tight smile he turned and walked away.

Mari stared after him, her heart collapsing in on itself.

He was going to stick with this. He really was.

Why did that surprise her? To get where he was, he’d achieved a level of discipline that very few could equal. Keeping their relationship platonic had to be much easier than what he’d surely had to deny himself throughout his life to become the world-class athlete that he was.

Mari only hoped she could do the same.

* * *

Hank was struggling. Throughout his life he’d had to forego many things to reach the achievement of being one of the best running backs in the NFL. But having to walk away from Mari when he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms and kiss her like it was the last time he’d see her…

He opened the French door, his ears attuned to her footsteps behind him, and when he heard her coming, he paused and held the door for her. She passed him, her floral scent following in her wake, wrapping around him.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, then he opened his eyes, exhaled, and strode to the dining area where Harper was already in her seat. Mari sat beside Harper, and he sat at the head of the table, near Harper.

As they ate—shredded chicken wraps and a salad—Hank asked Harper what she was going to do after lunch.

“Swimming!” Grinning, she looked at Mari.

Following Harper’s gaze, he saw Mari smile at Harper, then reach out and tuck a loose strand of Harper’s long blonde hair behind her ear. Though he continued watching Mari, she refused to look at him, so he turned his attention to Harper. “That sounds like fun.”

“I can swim, Daddy, but I still wear my floaties.”

“That’s because they keep you safe.”

“I know.” Her voice was serious as she speared a piece of chicken. “When I’m bigger I won’t have to wear floaties. Mari doesn’t have to wear floaties.”

Hank laughed. “That’s right. And you’re growing so fast, I can hardly believe it. Pretty soon you’ll be as big as Mari.” When he looked her way, she lifted her eyes to him, but immediately turned her attention back to Harper.

“You can practice your kicks,” she said.

“I can hold my breath for fifteen,” Harper said with a nod.

“Fifteen seconds?” Hank asked.

She nodded.

“Wow! That’s amazing.”

They finished eating, and when Hank stood to leave, he realized he and Mari hadn’t exchanged a single word.