Kiss Me Hello by L. K. Rigel

loved it that he knew about food and wine and cooking. He was so sexy standing at the stove, shirtless, in red pajama pants covered with panda bears. She hugged him from behind and rested her head against his back and smelled his skin.
    “Mm, good morning,” she murmured. She was ready to go back to bed.
    On the counter beside the stove two plates were loaded with fried potatoes and onions. She couldn’t believe what she saw plugged in under a cabinet.
    “Bram, my hero!” The Keurig from home sat there, plugged in and ready to go.
    “I knew she wouldn’t have a decent coffee maker. Nobody over fifty does.”
    “Ageist.” She teasingly slapped his butt.
    “Knock wood.” He rapped his knuckles against the cabinet drawer. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
    “Especially when the house might be haunted,” Sara said—then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to feed Bram’s interest in Joss Montague. “And K-cups too,” she added. “You think of everything.”
    “Yes, I do.” Bram nodded toward a satchel on the floor near the archway. “I also brought your blow dryer and shampoo and stuff, and some more clothes.”
    That was Bram’s version of bringing a girl flowers and candy: remembering her toiletries and fresh underwear. Sara popped a pod in the coffee maker. “Last night—”
    “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that. In my defense, I was exhausted.”
    “Well, not completely.”
    “A little drunk then? That Gracien makes a killer pinot.”
    “But…” She just stared. Last night was so amazing. Extraordinary. Bram’s last words, I didn’t know it could be like this. And now he shook the omelet pan so nonchalantly, like it had been nothing special. Like he didn’t even remember.
    “By the way, babe, where did this come from?” He held up the iron knife she’d left on the nook table. “These things are so cool.”
    She felt sick. “It was in the barn.” He didn’t remember. Or didn’t want to. She was so confused.
    “It’s called a spike knife,” he said. “They make these out of railroad spikes. This looks like an old one. I’ll bet Bonnie knows something about it. She’s totally into the history of Pelican Chase.”
    “Bonnie.” Sara opened the refrigerator and looked for the half and half. As she added the cream to her cup while the coffee brewed, Bram came up behind her and put his hands on her sides. She ached with frustration. One minute he was aloof and withholding, and the next he was all flirty and suggestive. She couldn’t stand it.
    “Don’t be hating on Bonnie. Yeah, she’s tall and gorgeous and ambitious, but I’m married to an heiress. Feels pretty good!” He pulled her hair to the side and tucked it behind her ear. Maybe she should let her hair grow. She knew he liked it better long, but this way it took less time to dry in the morning.
    “Not helping, Bram.” She laughed because he did mean to be funny, but she couldn’t help feeling stung. Bonnie was tall, gorgeous, and ambitious. Was he saying she was short, not gorgeous, a loser—but acceptable now because she might have money? And since when was short a bad thing?
    She was being an idiot. She’d read too much into last night. That journal had messed with her head. And no way was she jealous. Bram wanted to work things out, and so did she. She tilted her head for him to kiss her neck.
    His breath was warm as he nibbled at her earlobe. “This would make a great murder weapon.” The spike knife was at her throat. “You think?” He pressed it against her skin.
    “What the hell!” Her heart pounded and she twisted away, spilling hot coffee all over the counter.
    “Oh, babe.” Bram burst out laughing like a maniac. “Don’t take it personal.” He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her, still laughing. “I’m planning the murder in the next Hot book.”
    “Jeez, Bram. You scared the shit out of me.”
    “Good. Then it works. Now come over here and sit down.” He steered her to