Fudgeballs And Other Sweets by Lori Copeland

stopped her. “Where can I get Jake?”
    â€œThe island pound,” she answered, making her response deliberately curt. She sighed. “Take your checkbook. It’ll cost you.”
    â€œThat’s just great. ” He stepped into the kite shop and slammed the door.
    She blinked, staring at the closed door, wondering if it meant their date for tonight was off.
    â€œMen!” she scoffed.
    Princess snuggled closer. “Yip!” Ditto!
    Â 
    DAVE ARRIVED at Jenny’s at ten to seven lugging two sacks of groceries.
    â€œWhat’s all this?” she asked, surprised but delighted he’d decided to show up. “I thought you’d pick up a pizza or something.”
    â€œPizza!” Dave pretended to be repelled by the idea. “Springing a dog from the Big House makes a man hungry.”
    She laughed. “I’m glad you came, and relieved to see you still have a sense of humor.”
    â€œI fail to see anything funny about Jake being hauled off to the pound.”
    She followed him into the kitchen and he ceremoniously unpacked the bags and placed cans and spices on the counter.
    â€œYou’re not mad?”
    â€œI’m not mad. Moreover, you will think you’ve died and gone to heaven once you’ve tasted Spaghetti Kasada.”
    â€œHm, I will, will I?” She examined a couple of the spices. “You really have a thing for Italian food, don’t you?”
    He rescued the vials from her hand. “Don’t be nosing around for my secrets.” He smiled, his gaze resting on her soft features. “You look tired.”
    â€œAwful’s a better word.” She touched her hair. “I had a time getting Dory to sleep. She likes to play with my hair while I rock her.”
    Who wouldn’t, he thought, eyeing the thick blond mane pulled into a jaunty ponytail. “You don’t look awful, you look like a woman with a busy life. Actually, you look...nice.” She looked more than nice. She looked like someone he’d like to wake up next to every morning. Soft, warm... He shook the thought aside and turned his attention to his culinary efforts. “Got a big pot?”
    She pushed away from the counter and knelt to get the pan from a lower cabinet. He reached and stopped her. He was right. She was soft and warm. “I’ll get it.”
    When she straightened, her face was so close he could smell her perfume. When was the last time he wanted a woman, needed one? Ached for one? Hell, when was the last time he was this close to one alone?
    He stepped back. “Why don’t you relax in the living room and let your personal chef do his thing.”
    She smiled. “Thank you, kind sir. You’ll find everything you need in the top cabinet.”
    â€œThanks.” Back off, Dave , he thought. He was glad she left the room. There was no way he could concentrate on cooking when all he could do was admire the way she filled out a pair of jeans and the cleavage he saw in the V of her pink cotton knit top. “Stick to cooking,” he mumbled as he searched for a spoon.
    Twenty minutes later, the sauce simmering, he walked into the living room and found Jenny curled up on the couch sound asleep. Her head was squeezed between the armrest and a cushion, and she looked uncomfortable as hell. He put his hand under her head and tried to place a pillow there, but she roused and sat up.
    â€œI’m sure good company, huh?” she said, yawning.
    â€œHere.” He lowered himself to the couch and eased her back to him. “You look like you could use a little down time.” His thumbs gently kneaded the knots in her shoulders. “Relax.”
    Sounds emanated from her throat like tiny mews. “Mmm, that feels good.”
    Yes, it certainly did, he decided, pulling her closer while the heels of his palms pressed circles on her upper arms. He took a deep breath and savored her delicate scent. It wasn’t