Kate woke up loose-limbed and happy.

At first she thought the warmth in her chest was because of the sun dawning pink behind the city skyline, filling her room with soft light.

Then she remembered.

Oh, Kate, how could you? her inner critic scolded.

But she wasn’t really sorry.

She eased herself over slowly only to find that Kirk wasn’t in bed with her anymore.

But his side of the bed was still warm and sounds carried into the room from the hallway. She must have awoken when he shut the door.

She slipped out of bed like a ninja, freshened up in the attached powder room, slipped on a robe and went to find him.

She didn’t have to go far. The sound of singing came from the kitchen.

Kate padded down the hallway and turned the corner to see a surprisingly domestic sight.

Kirk, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, was dancing around the kitchen, singing along to the radio. He held a frying pan in one hand and a kitchen towel in the other. His muscular torso was lightly dusted with what she hoped was flour.

The song on the radio was early Cyndi Lauper. The station must have been doing an eighties throw-back weekend. Kirk had a surprising command of the lyrics.

His dance moves weren’t exactly slick, but his body was hot enough to make up for it.

She watched, agog, as the pajama bottoms slid a little lower on his hips.

“Kate,” he exclaimed. “I am making pancakes.”

“I can see that,” she said, though she also saw that the ingredients that were mostly spilled on the countertop. “Can I help?”

“That would be wonderful,” he said, with feeling. “I have learned about pancakes from watching the movie Uncle Buck, but you do not have a snow shovel, so I am only making small pancakes.”

“I like to make small pancakes too,” Kate said, trying to hide her smile. “Let’s see if we can get everything organized.”

They worked together for a few minutes. Though they had been intensely physical last night, Kate found herself feeling self-conscious all over again about the spark that passed between them every time their fingers brushed.

At last the batter was ready and the pan was hot.

Kate poured a perfect circle of batter into the center of the pan and handed Kirk the spatula.

“When you see bubbles all the way to the middle, then it’s time to flip it over,” she told him.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said.

“Thank you for making breakfast for me,” she said. “That was very nice of you.”

“I want to learn to do all things done on Earth,” Kirk said dreamily.

“Like what?” Kate asked, wondering what he thought Earth people did all day.

“I want to prepare delicious food, of course,” he said. “I want to learn to drive a car - and to wash and maintain it too. I want to travel and explore this planet, read books, listen to music, and learn everything about my new culture.”

An idea began to take root in Kate’s imagination. It was a picture of this simple, quiet private life that Kirk wanted, a life that bore great resemblance to the life she herself wanted to live.

“Have I said something offensive?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“No, not at all,” Kate said. “I was just thinking.”

“Ah,” he said. “The bubbles are in the middle.”

“Slide the spatula under it and flip it over,” Kate said. “It’s time.”

Kirk slid the spatula under the pancake smoothly. He flicked his wrist enthusiastically.

The pancake flew two feet into the air and landed miraculously back on the pan with a slap.

Drips of batter splattered out onto Kate.

She squealed.

“Oh no,” Kirk said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping batter from her cheek. “You’ve got a strong flipping hand.”

Kirk smiled and leaned in to help her clean up. He wiped his thumb across her forehead, then her other cheek.

Kate felt her body melt at his nearness.

“Oh, there’s some on your lip,” he murmured.

But instead of thumbing it away, he leaned down and licked her lower lip.

Kate held her breath.

He licked her lip again, slowly, before pressing his mouth to hers.

Kate forgot the mess, the pancakes, the whole world around her. There was nothing but Kirk’s arms around her, the taste of his lips, the pulse of her need for him.

He pressed her against the counter, his kisses a demand.

Kate moaned and slid her hands up his bare chest.

“I think something’s burning in here,” Cecily’s voice said from the hallway. “Oh.”

Kate managed to pull away from Kirk’s kiss.

Both her roommates and his brothers peeked in the doorway to the kitchen, various expressions of amusement and surprise on their faces.

“I am learning to make pancakes,” Kirk told them, his arms still around Kate.

“I don’t think that’s how you do it,” Beatrix quipped.

Cecily gave her a gentle shove in the ribs.

“Beatrix is right,” Solo said from the doorway. “You don’t even have a snow shovel.”