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“I need you to kiss me.” Several heartbeats passed before he said, “Excuse me?” “The guy I was talking to a minute ago, thinks 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 taking me home. I need you to help me convince him I’m involved with someone.” Mac frowned down at her. “Tell him no.” “He’s in town until Tuesday and comes back on business all the time. He’ll keep bugging me.” Mac’s frown turned to a scowl. “Keep telling him no.” “This is easier,” she insisted. “If he thinks I’m involved, especially with a big, mean-looking guy like you, he’ll drop it.” “Mean-looking?” “When you frown like that.” She moved closer. “Come on. Just a little favor. One kiss.” He’d kissed her cheek, her forehead, the top of her head and her hand before. And once on the lips. New Year’s Eve. Two years ago. Which was when the lust had started. She’d never felt like that with even the most passionate kisses from other men and this had been only a New Year’s Eve kiss. It hadn’t been a peck, but neither had it been carnal by any stretch—it had been full, lips slightly open, up against the full length of his body, lingering for a good minute. All she’d been able to think after was 𝘸𝘰𝘸 and 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳. “Tell him you’re with me,” he said with a growl turning back to his chair at the head table. He grabbed her hand just as she thought he was walking away and pulled her along with him. “Stay with me and you won’t have to tell him anything at all.” Sara let herself enjoy Mac’s hand, big, warm and strong, for a moment before making herself keep up the argument—even though he was right. She wanted that kiss. “Someone already told him I’m single. He’ll think we’re just friends sitting together. Even if he doesn’t approach me again tonight, he’ll probably call tomorrow.” Mac settled down into his chair and pushed the chair next to him out for her. “Want me to stay over and answer the phone until Tuesday?” She swiveled on her chair seat to look at him, gauging the motivation behind the offer. He’d slept on her couch before. “Yes,” she said simply. “I will,” he told her lifting his glass. “But you have to buy Twinkies.” Mac’s favorite food. Normally, she would roll her eyes and joke about his propensity for junk food. But she was in a mood tonight. She leaned over and put her hand on his hard, flat stomach. “How do you keep these so tight with all those Twinkies?” She rubbed her hand back and forth over the warm, white linen of his shirt. Mac seemed to freeze. And stop breathing. His eyes were locked on hers and she felt a current zing between them. “Sara?” His voice was definitely hoarse. “Mac.” “Move your hand.” She slid it downward and Mac shot back, tipping his chair onto its back legs and throwing him off-balance enough that he stumbled to his feet, knocking the chair over. “Damn, Sara!” he swore. Straightening to his full height and glaring down at her he demanded, “What the hell was that?” She blinked at him, trying for innocence. “You said…” “I didn’t mean 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵!” he snapped. “Well, why not?” “Enough. You’re obviously drunk.” Instead of looking up and arguing his statement, Sara’s eyes found the object of conversation almost right in front of her. And it looked interested in what she was proposing. Mac had an er-ction. Right there. Front and center. Unmistakable. “You sure you’re not interested?” He quickly righted the chair, sat and dropped his napkin in his lap. “Knock it off.” “What? You’re telling me you’ve never thought of it? Ever?” “Of having your hand down my pants at your brother’s wedding? No, I can honestly say I haven’t.” He wouldn’t look at her. “So when have you thought about having my hand down your pants?” He opened his mouth, shut it, shifted in his chair, frowned. “Stop it.” She scooted her chair closer. “Mac, honestly. Have you ever thought of us together?” “We’re together all the time at Sam’s, at the center and the hospital.” He still wasn’t making eye contact. Sara touched his knee and he nearly jumped out of his chair again. She smiled. “I’m talking about naked, you and me.” “Of course not,” he answered quickly. Too quickly. He was scowling again. “You’re a kid, like a sister to me.” He was lying. He had to be lying. Before she could think it out any further and potentially chicken out, Sara slid from her chair to Mac’s lap, cupped the back of his head in both hands and kissed him with all she had. 📚𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝘼 𝙂𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥, 𝘣𝘺 𝘌𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴! “𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨.” -⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐Kim, Amazon