Lost in Her by Sandra Owens Page A

sure how to handle the depth of emotions swirling around inside her, she laughed. “I’ve always heard the Irish were whimsical. Guess it’s true.” She stepped up to him and pressed against his chest, laying her cheek over his heart. “No one has ever invited me to a magical land before.”
    He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “Then I’m your man.”
    If only, but she couldn’t get the picture of Ryan and his wife out of her head. It just wasn’t possible for a man to love like that twice in his lifetime. What didn’t make any sense was his claim that she was pregnant and the baby wasn’t his. If he really were her man, Charlie would never look at anyone else.
    Trained to make quick decisions, she made one. It didn’t matter that he would never love her the way he had his wife because love wasn’t up for discussion for either of them. She would view him as a time in her life when she had caught the interest of an honest-to-God hot guy. She would just go with it and have fun. Then in a few days, or maybe a month, he would move on, and she would return to her comfortable existence.
    So close to him, she could smell the spice of his aftershave, she took a deep breath, memorizing his scent. “Take me to Ireland, Ryan.”
    “Aye, cherub, I’d love to.” He led her back to the table. “Sit here and prepare to enjoy my amazing culinary skills.” The plate of untouched cheese and crackers was taken away. “You up for the whole experience? If you ordered our meal in an Irish pub, you’d get laughed out of the place if you drank anything but a good Ireland-brewed beer. I have wine, though, if you’d prefer.”
    “Oh no, I’m not going to get laughed out of here before I get my dinner. Whatever it is, it smells divine.” And it did, so much so that her mouth watered. It seemed her choice of beer to drink pleased him because he grinned. Two frosted mugs were whisked from the freezer, and then the beer was expertly poured into them.
    “To my new girlfriend and magic nights,” he said, standing near her as he raised his mug.
    Charlie tapped her glass against his, while furtively squeezing her thighs together because of the way he looked at her, as if he wanted her for dinner. “I’m good with both of those,” she said, wishing she were cleverer with comebacks. Sometime later, probably around two when she was in her bed and unable to sleep, she would think of the perfect thing she should have said.
    “And I’m definitely good with your being good.” He set down his glass and put his hands on the table, then lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. “Actually, I’d be even better with us both being bad.” Not giving her a chance to answer, he covered her lips with his just as a buzzer went off. “Damn,” he muttered.
    She sat back and worked on catching her breath when he left her to turn off the timer. He put on oven mitts, then opened the oven door. “What is it?” she asked, when he set a baking dish between their plates, pleased that her voice was only a little shaky.
    “Shepherd’s pie. The real Irish kind.” After dishing a healthy amount onto her plate, he sat back and watched her expectantly.
    “Oh. My. God,” she said after swallowing a forkful. “This is amazing, Ryan.”
    He took a bite. “Mmm, not bad. Not bad at all.”
    “You can make this for me anytime you want.” The pleased smile he gave her sent little flutters through her. As they ate, the conversation centered around the rabbit and how he had showed up one day on Ryan’s doorstep.
    “I have to go out of town in a week, and I’m not sure what to do with him. Maybe I can find a vet I can board him with,” he said.
    “Oh, where you going?” And just like that his face blanked. Weird.
    “I can’t say.” He stood and gathered their empty plates, set them in the sink, and ran water over them. Turning, he leaned back against the counter. “I should have made something up, said I was going home to