Journal Jots – Blog

“Besides, Mrs. McClare,” he said softly,

“I can be stimulating too.” The rogue in him took over as his gaze flitted to her lips

and back, his voice a husky whisper. “Or don’t you remember?”

—Love at any Cost by Julie Lessman

WHOO-EE, crazy week!! I’m heading up to Revell in Grand Rapids, Michigan Thursday and Friday for a meeting and a book signing, so I’m posting my Journal Jot early AND taking the  easy way out with one of my favorite scenes from the 1^st book in the Heart of San Francisco series, Love at an Cost.

But first, if you live in Grand Rapids or close, I would LOVE to see you, so consider checking out my Q&A/Book signing at the Baker Book House Thursday night, March 15, from 7:00 – 8:30 PM. Bring your books for me to sign or just come say hello if you are in the area, okay?

Now on to what is one of my favorite scenes in Love at any Cost. There is no kissing in this scene, but there is such a strong attraction and longing, that I really like it—especially the paragraph where Logan talks about being “familiar” with Cait. To set you up, this particular scene involves the matriach of the family Caitlyn McClare and her rogue brother-in-law Logan McClare, to whom she was once engaged 26 years ago before he cheated on her. She then married his older brother instead, but now has been a widow for two years. Logan has never stopped loving her and fully intends to make her his, which is the last thing Cait wants even though she’s attracted to him. Here’s a scene at the famous and historical Palace Hotel in San Francisco where the two are dancing at a family dinner for Logan’s birthday. Happy reading!

“So … two questions, Cait,” Logan said. “One—why did you finally agree to dance with me after declining all night and two—why did you agree to Napa?” He spun her in his arms, the orchestra’s rendition of Jere Mahoney’s For Old Time’s Sake haunting him as much as he hoped it haunted her. His heart thudded as he studied her in the soft glow of the chandeliers overhead. The flawless porcelain skin, the eyes the color of jade and that lustrous auburn hair piled high with just enough loose strays to tease an alabaster neck, leaving no doubt whatsoever that his attraction to her had never waned. Oh, he’d buried it deep when she had married his brother, certainly, allowing him to survive the loss of her in his heart and in his bed, but somehow it had surfaced with a vengeance in the last year, and that alone told him that the timing was right.

She’d been chattering nonstop while they danced, so out of character for a woman as content with silence as she was conversing with family and friends, and he couldn’t help the faint smile that shadowed his lips. She was obviously nervous—the song, the dancing, the memories—all too close to home for them both, and her unease reminded him of the girl he’d proposed to almost twenty-seven years ago in this very ballroom. Only seventeen, she’d been shy and sweet and oh, so tempting, but innocent to a fault. A ‘fault’ that had resulted in utter shock and heartbreak when he’d dallied with another. He exhaled slowly, his regret hidden behind an easy smile. Come on, Cait, give me another chance. For old time’s sake?

She stared at him now on the heels of his questions, the chatter suddenly nowhere in sight, and he was fascinated by the slight flare of her pupils, the shift of her throat, those full lips so ripe for tasting now parted in shallow breaths. He awaited her response while heavily fringed eyelids flickered in thought, and he realized her pull on him was stronger now than the night he’d slipped the ring on her finger. He hadn’t been just smitten with her then, no, he’d been besotted, but a man whose desire for her, regrettably, was far outweighed by youthful lust.

“Why did I finally agree to dance with you?” she repeated, her voice as wispy as the gauzy pale-yellow bodice that rose and fell with every breath she took. Her chin lifted enough for him to know she was steeling herself for battle, promptly broadening the smile on his lips. A good sign—at least she was battling something. Her feelings for him, perhaps? Or his for her?

“Yes, why now?” he said, with a shuttered smile. He slowed his steps as the music ended, but held firm lest she bolt away. “After cruelly turning me away all night.”

Color toasted her cheeks, and the chin rose higher. “I danced with you, Logan McClare, because you asked, and I didn’t prior to because I was engaged in stimulating conversations.” She stepped back a fraction of an inch despite his lock on her waist.

The strains of Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder filtered through the ballroom, and Logan found himself hoping against hope that the song was prophetic for Cait. Heaven knows it was for him. He grinned. “Come on, Cait, you’re not a woman prone to untruths. Why don’t you just admit the only reason you said yes is because it’s my birthday and you felt guilty?”

A pretty shade of rose burnished her cheeks and he laughed, enjoying that she was so easy to read … and rile. He swept her in a wide arc, savoring the way wisps of scarlet fluttered in the breeze. “Besides, Mrs. McClare,” he said softly, “I can be stimulating too.” The rogue in him took over as his gaze flitted to her lips and back, his voice a husky whisper. “Or don’t you remember?”

Color swamped her throat and cheeks, nearly swallowing her whole, and he laughed out loud, firming his grip when he felt her attempt to pull away. “Come on, Cait, I’m sorry, but you’re just so easy to bait.” His smile ebbed into a tender look. “You always were, as I recall.”

Shooting a nervous glance at their table, she fixed him with a stern gaze, gold flecks of fire in those startling green eyes. “Please keep your voice down.” Her nostrils flared slightly as she drew in a calming breath, chin engaged once again. “And I’d appreciate it if you would not refer to our past to anyone, including me.” Her tone softened. “We are friends, Logan, please keep that in mind. I am not one of your many women to be toyed with, I am your sister-in-law. I ask that you treat me with the respect due your brother’s wife.”

He gave her a veiled look. “You mean my brother’s widow,” he said quietly.

Her jaw set. “Either way, you are my brother-in-law, and it’s uncomfortable when your comments or actions are overly familiar.”

Grip firm, his eyes and voice softened. “You forget, Cait,” he whispered, his humor no longer a mask for his feelings, “I am overly familiar with you, whether you like it or not. I know your habits, your expressions, every nuance of your face. I know you take Earl Gray with sugar in the morning and Chamomile without at night. I know you have a habit of jutting your chin when backed into corner and that wine makes you tipsy after the first couple of sips. You pick at your nails when you’re nervous and you twirl you hair when in thought, and despite your love for the classics,” he said in a rush, exhaling slowly, “you have a secret fondness for dime novels.” His voice trailed to a whisper. “Especially on rainy days.”

She stared, lips parted, as if poised for her lungs to start breathing again.

Her hand felt small and warm in his and with a shift of his throat, he gently circled her palm with his thumb. “We have history, Cait,” he said softly.

Tears glimmered as she carefully slipped her hand from his, the grief in her face a mirror reflection of his own. “Yes, we do. But that’s no basis for a future.” Slowly, gently, she cupped a palm to his cheek. “I need a friend, Logan, nothing more.” The bridge of her nose puckered as she studied him intently. “Can you be that for me—please?” The orchestra began to play, and she took his hand. “Can we celebrate your birthday as family members who respect and support each other?” She peered up, a gentle woman with a gentle request. “And friends—good friends?”

He paused, unable to breathe for the ache in his chest. Bracing his palm to her shoulder, he lifted her hand to begin the dance, a dance of will and heart that he was determined to win. He smiled, his manner as kind as hers. “Sure, Cait, friends.” With casual grace, he whirled her to the music, her body suddenly relaxed and fluid and calm.

For now.

Happy Weekend!!

Hugs,

Julie

 

 

Delight yourself in the Lord,

and He will give you the desires of your heart.

—Psalm 37:4

Okay, it’s confession time. Whenever I see someone who is Mother-Teresa spiritual and SO focused on God 24 hours a day and actually talks about heaven as someplace they cannot wait to be, I feel like a dog because to be honest, I’m just not like that.  

Oh sure, I’m one of those crazy Christians who will literally pray with someone at the drop of a hat—in a hallway at work, in a bathroom at Denny’s, with a stranger at Wal-Mart—it doesn’t matter. The minute I hear someone’s problems, I simply lose sight of everything around me and how stupid I might look and I say, “Excuse me, but do you mind if we pray about this?” And I don’t even give the poor schmo a chance to say no, I just forge right on right there, wherever, eyes open and talking to God like I’m chatting about the weather. Usually the person blinks at me like a deer caught in headlights and then most of the time they simply close their eyes and bow their heads, which isn’t really necessary because then people reallllly stare, but neither way bothers me too much. I just think it’s just WAY more important to nail something with prayer right then and there because let’s face it, the chances of you remembering later are slim to nil, right?

And, of course, when I see another author whose books are leaving mine in the dust, giving root to a nasty seed of jealousy, it goes without saying that I ask God to forgive me and immediately pray that He will bless that author all the more, even to the point of packing their sweet, little carcass off to the bestseller list. I mean, come on—I did this for my dear friend, Julie Klassen (a you-won’t-believe-it story I blogged about in my Seeker Blog, “Oh, For the Love of God … Part 2” at http://seekerville.blogspot.com/2008/11/oh-for-love-of-god-part-2.html), and geez Louise, look where she is now!! Two time Christy winner who, yes, is now on the CBD Bestseller List!! Okay, okay, maybe she is talented enough to get there on her own, but even so … uh, Julie, can you please kick up a few prayers for this poor slob???

Don’t get me wrong—God IS the most important thing in my life, but let’s be honest. Does He drive my wants and desires? I mean if I had a choice between writing a love scene in my book or reading the Bible, am I gonna sit here and tell you that I would rather spend time with Job, Jeremiah or John over Collin, Mitch or Luke? Regrettably, no because alas, I may not be Mother Teresa material, but God knows I am HONEST to a fault.

So naturally when I read today’s Scripture quote a few days ago, telling me that God will give us the desires of our hearts if we delight in Him, my “desire” list usually reads along the lines of things like getting married, having a baby, getting published, winning a Christy, yadda, yadda, yadda. I mean come on, these things are nice, but they’re not real spiritual, you know? Which is okay because when we delight in God, he DOES give us these types of desires of her heart, truly He does.

For instance, about six months before I got published, I was praying outside on my deck in this cool swing we have, staring out at the woods with tears in my eyes because after countless rejections, I was just certain I would never get published. All of a sudden, this thought comes in my brain that says, “Julie, did I not say I would give you the desires of your heart if you delighted in Me?”

Okay let’s pause here to clear something up right now. Lest you think I’m one of those super spiritual people who actually “hears” an audible voice, no siree. I’m definitely the “B” list variety who hears God in a still, small Voice that is more like a whisper of a thought.

Anyway, this “Voice” (Whom I believe is God), proceeds to say, “Have I ever failed to give you a desire of your heart?” I pause, giving this some serious thought. “Well, let’s see,” I say out loud (because yes I DO talk to the Voice all the time on my deck, which I’m sure has the neighbors a wee bit worried, but no matter), “the four desires of my heart have always been: A.) To get married to a man who would cherish me—CHECK. B.) Have a baby who would cherish me—CHECK, CHECK. C.) Be able to work as a writer even though I did not have a degree—CHECK. And D.) Get published STILL UNCHECKED AT THIS TIME, IF YOU RECALL.

“Well then, Julie,” the Voice says, “if I gave you the first three desires of your heart, why do you think I won’t give the last as well?” I distinctly remember blinking several times before the tears began to well, suddenly realizing that He was right. Because surprise, surprise—giving us the desires of our hearts just happens to be the desire of His—this amazing God we serve.

But you know what? Something strange happened along the way. Yes, those “desires” were wonderful blessings, to be sure, but ironically it was those very desires that have shown me that only one “desire” can ever truly make me happy, truly give me peace and truly satisfy. And that’s the desire to desire HIM more than anything else in this world. To desire His will over mine and to come to a place where my highest pleasure is giving Him pleasure—with my obedience, my worship, and my passion. Sweet mother of Job, it’s only taken me sixty-one years to fully comprehend this, but the light is finally dawning. What can I say? I’m a slow learner. I’m quite sure sweet Mother Teresa is shaking her head with Job, Jeremiah and John, but the wonderful thing is—God is not. He knows we are but flesh—heck, He made us that way! And He’s given us a “Get out of jail free” card where yes, we can ask for the desires of our heart, but He also makes sure each and every one brings us right back to Him. And then, voila! He gives us prayer as a means to accomplish that even more.

My point? PRAY for God to give you passion and fervor for him every day of your life. PRAY that His will becomes more important to you than yours. PRAY that His desire for you becomes greater than your desire for yourself. Because He WILL do it, and you will get a rare glimpse into the joy, peace and hope that Mother Teresa, no doubt, enjoyed on a regular basis.

Do it. Put a smile both on God’s face and Mother Terry’s. I know I am.

RARE BOOK SIGNING!! I don’t do a lot a book signings, but for any of you out there who live close to Grand Rapids, Michigan, I would LOVE to meet you and sign your books at the Baker Book House store. Hope to see you there—here are the details:

WHEN: THURSDAY, MARCH 15, 7:00-8:30 PM

WHERE: BAKER BOOK HOUSE, 2768 E. PARIS S.E., GRAND RAPIDS, MI 49546

SEEKER BLOG GIVEAWAY!! Join me for my Seeker blog this Wednesday, March 14, “A Chip Off the Old (Writer’s) Block,” and have a chance to win a signed copy of Steven’s story, A Love Surrendered, or any of my books PLUS a top CBA book from my personal library. Hope to see you there—here’s the link:

http://www.seekerville.blogspot.com/

FINALLY … do you know somebody who hasn’t read my books yet but you’d like them to?? Then, hop on over to Writing for Christ blog where one of my dearest blogger friends, Casey Herringshaw (also the winner of my “Have a Character Named After You” contest last year), absolutely blessed the socks off me with a blog that made me cry (yeah, yeah, I know, what’s new?). She is giving away a copy of A Passion Most Pure, so stop on by to win it for someone who hasn’t read my books but you’d like them to OR tell them about it, okay? Here’s the link:

http://enjoyingthewritingcraft.blogspot.com/2012/03/special-giveaway-not-your-usual-fare.html

And that’s it for this week—HAVE A GREAT ONE!!

Hugs,

Julie

But this had caught him off-guard,

something evil and sinister he’d never seen coming,

an invitation in a smile, drawing his lips to hers like a lamb to the slaughter.

A blood sacrifice of his marriage vow on the altar of lust. 

—A Love Surrendered by Julie Lessman

HAPPY FRIDAY!!!  First off, I’d like to give a great big THANK YOU to each and every one of you who took the time to vote in the Family Fiction Magazine Readers’ Choice Awards! Whether you voted for me or not, it’s important to support both the Christian authors you love and Family Fiction Magazine, one of the premiere online magazines that promotes Christian fiction in the market today. You might want to sign up for this excellent free online magazine because you will not regret it!

Now, as many of you already know, I sponsored a contest for anyone that voted in the Family Fiction Magazine Readers’ Choice Awards, which entered them in a random drawing to receive a $25 gift card and a signed copy of A Love Surrendered. We had a stellar turnout, and OH, how I wish I could send each and every one of you a gift card and a signed copy of A Love Surrendered! But, alas, if I did, my husband would shoot me and Marcy and Patrick’s prequel would never be finished, so it’s really better this way! J

That said, I am happy to announce that the winner of this contest is …

 Johanna Young

Super congrats to Johanna, and I will be contacting you about your gift card and then sending you a signed copy of A Love Surrendered when it releases October 1^st. Yes, you read correctly—October 1^st rather than my usual release date of September 1^st. I have to admit, when I found this out, I was a wee bit surprised, but my publisher assures me that October will be a much better release date for me than September. Sigh … what’s a month between friends, right?

So … to get you in the mood for A Love Surrendered, I have already given newsletter recipients a sneak peek at a Steven and Annie excerpt in my February 2012 newsletter, so those of you who don’t get my newsletter may want to sign up for it on the newsletter tab of this website at http://www.julielessman.com/sign-up-for-newsletter/. And if you are signed up and didn’t receive the newsletter, PLEASE let me know that as well.

Then to celebrate the one-year blogaversary of a good friend of mine, Megan from Hardcover Feedback blog, I am offering another fun Steven/Annie excerpt along with a book giveaway of a signed copy of any of my books including A Love Surrendered, but the giveaway ends TOMORROW, Saturday, March 3, so you may want to hightail it over to leave a comment. In addition, there are also fourteen giveaways from other authors as well, all ending tomorrow, including MaryLu Tyndall, Sarah Sundin, Lorna Seilstad, Camy Tang, Marta Perry, Cheryl St. John and Kathleen Y’Barbo, to mention just a few, so you may want to check it out. Here’s the link:

 http://hardcoverfeedback.blogspot.com/search/label/1st%20Blogoversary

And now, as promised, here’s a scene from A Love Surrendered that involves Katie and Luke. Our quote today comes from their sub plot where Luke is upset when he finds out Katie is being tutored by her old fiancé Jack. He forbids her to continue, telling her, “It’s just not smart, Katie, for a married woman to spend time alone with a man unless he’s the dean, a blood relative or a priest.” But when Katie discovers that the late hours he’s been keeping at work include a pretty, young intern, she blows her top, ending in a huge fight followed by two weeks of silence. This scene picks up where Luke apologizes to Katie at the end of the two weeks, and as you will see, our Mr. McGee has to choke down a hefty piece of humble pie.

I hope you enjoy it! Have a great weekend!

Hugs,

Julie

The clock in the parlor chimed nine as he slipped into his pajama bottoms and spiked fingers through his hair. Wiping down the sink, he tossed his towel over the rack and his clothes in the hamper, peeking in on Kit on his way to the kitchen. Chugging a glass of milk, he heard the front door open and close, and instantly the milk pooled in his mouth. He set the empty glass in the sink and sucked in a deep swallow of air, ambling down the hall as if it were a walk in the park.

She was bent over the coffee table with a stack of books in her hands, and his eyes automatically roved from shapely legs to the gentle curve of her hips, imparting a heated awareness of just how much he’d missed his wife. Swallowing the knot of pride in his throat, he folded his arms and slacked a hip to the wall. “You hungry, ‘cause I can fix you a sandwich?”

Emitting a tiny squeak, she whirled around so fast half the books spilled on the floor. She slapped a hand to her chest, voice hoarse. “Good night, McGee, why don’t you just hide behind the door and jump out—you scared the living daylights out of me!”

Tamping down a smile, he strolled in and retrieved her books. “Sorry, Sass, but I do live here you know, as unappealing as that may be at the moment.”

He leaned over to kiss her, but she quickly turned away. “How’s Kit?” she asked over her shoulder on the way to their room. “Did she go to bed without a fuss?”

“Yeah, if you don’t count three glasses of water and six stories a ‘fuss.’” He followed her down the hall, eyeing her from the door as she unbuttoned her blouse. “How’d your orals go?”

“Fine.” She glanced up, color staining her cheeks as he watched her take off her blouse. Shifting her hip, she clasped the blouse close with a tight purse of her lips. “Do you mind?”

No way he could stop the lazy grin that slid over his face. “Not at all, Sass, you go right ahead.”

Blouse bunched, she angled a brow. “Well then, do you mind turning around?”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, the slightest bit of edge to his tone. “Actually I do. You’re my wife, Katie Rose, and I can look all I want.”

Emitting a noisy breath, she snatched her nightgown and started for the bathroom.

He blocked her way with palms flat to the door, softening his tone. “Come on, Sass, can’t we talk this out, please? I have something I need to say.”

She parked her hands on her hips, blouse dangling at her side. “Well, unless it’s an apology, McGee, you’ll be talking to yourself.” She paused, tilting her head to the right. “Or as your wife, is listening something else I’m expected to do?”

He exhaled, feeling the heat of his pride creeping up the back of his neck. “It is,” he said quietly, “an apology, that is, not something you’re expected to do.” His smile was contrite.

That took the wind out of her sails. Her chin inched up. “All right … I’m listening.”

He pried a hand from her hip and led her to the sofa, easing her down before sitting beside her. Replenishing his air, he took both of her hands in his. “Katie,” he whispered, forcing the words from his throat. “I …” He swallowed hard, cleared his throat and tried again. “Katie, I … well, I owe you an apology,” he said in a rush. There. It was out, and he wasn’t even annoyed by the drop of her chin. Thumbs grazing her palms, he forged on. “I was wrong to yell at you in the office, and I apologize.” He released a reedy breath. Okay, that wasn’t so bad.

She arched a brow. “And?”

Without realizing it, he began to grind his jaw. “And …” he said, dragging the word out as long as he could, “I want you to know I respect your opinion regarding the situation with Lauren, and I won’t be working with her again.”

“Why?”

He blinked, a muscle spasm adding to the grind of his jaw. “Because … she’s gone, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Gone?” she said, the question as flat as the press of her lips.

“Yes, gone.”

“Why?”

“Because she just is.”

She leaned forward, eyes laying him bare. “Gone to lunch, gone across town, gone on vacation—I want facts, McGee, not single syllables.”

He blasted out a sigh. “For pity’s sake, Katie, I fired her, okay?”

She nodded her head. “I see. And why exactly would you do that?”

He gulped, nearly choking on the words caught in his throat. “Because …  you were right …” His eyelids flickered briefly as he pushed the rest of the sentence off the tip of his tongue.  “And … I was … wrong.”

Her smile could have blinded him, which given the superior gloat in her eyes, might be a good thing. “Ahhhhh … words I never thought I’d hear from the lips of Luke McGee.” She sat back with a fold of her arms, the smile suddenly nowhere in sight. Her voice was clipped. “And when exactly did this revelation occur?”

It felt like fire ants were swarming his neck, which, based on the dangerous look on Katie’s face, would have been his first option. His voice was a croak. “Uh … recently.”

She cocked her head, brows lifting to new heights. “Really. How recently, would you say? Last week, this week, yesterday, today?

His voice cracked. “Today.”

She leaned forward, and he was pretty sure her eyes burned more than the ants. “Why?” she whispered, her voice akin to the calm before the storm.

Avoiding her gaze, he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He swallowed hard, tried again. Still nothing.

Lunging forward with wildfire in her eyes, she jerked his chin up, index finger and thumb pinching his skin. “So help me, Luke McGee, you better spit it out right now what you or that woman did to get her fired or I will launch on you like a bad of case of measles scratched raw.”

Teeth clenched, muscle spasms in his face had a field day as he slowly removed her hand from his jaw, biting the words out. “She-made-a-pass-at-me, okay? Are you satisfied?”

“Deliriously. What happened?” she snapped.

He shot to his feet and started to pace, practically gouging his hair by the roots. “Nothing, I swear. She was on a stool pulling a box from a shelf and needed help.” He reinforced his lungs with more air, then dove right back in as he mauled the back of his neck. “The next thing I know, I’m helping her down and she … she …”

Katie’s eyes narrowed, stretching two syllables into four. “She-e wha-t?

He stopped, suddenly too exhausted to worry anymore. Venting with a sigh, he plopped on the couch and put his head in his hands. “She slid down the front of me and put her hands to my waist. Said my body was like a rock.”

Nothing. He waited, not sure he wanted to see her expression. A giggle floated in the air, and he glanced up, a pinch of hurt between his brows. “You think this is funny?”

Lips pursed to ward off a smile, she shook her head in a series of tiny, little shakes before her eyes widened with a grate of her lip. “Are you sure she wasn’t talking about your head?”

His eyes narrowed into a squint. “This isn’t funny, Katie Rose, and I think you’re being awfully cavalier about another woman flirting with your husband.”

She sobered quickly, a tender slant to her brows. “No, darling, I don’t think this is funny. I’m just venting with humor so I don’t scratch your eyes out.”

“Oh,” he said, discreetly scooting a few inches away. 

“Did you kiss her?”

He jerked up as if he’d been shot. “Kiss her??” he rasped, nearly dislocating his jaw. “For the love of all that’s decent, Katie, are you crazy? No, I didn’t kiss her, I pushed her away.”

Her lips twitched. “And she didn’t kiss you?”

He shook his head hard. “Of course not! I wasn’t about to let it get that far.”

“And you fired her?”

“Absolutely, right on the spot.”

She took his hand in hers, ducking to peek up at him. “Then what’s the problem, Luke? You admitted I was right and you were wrong, you apologized, you resisted temptation and you sent the hussy packing. All in all, I’d say that’s a pretty good day.”

He shot her a sideways glance, mouth sagging that she was taking it so well. His lips clamped as a sliver of hurt prickled. Too well. “Aren’t you even a little jealous?”

She shimmied close to tuck an arm to his waist. “Not really, because unlike someone I know,” she said with teasing emphasis, “I trust you, which …” She poked his shoulder. “is not carte blanche for a married man or woman to spend time alone with the opposite sex unless they are the boss, a blood relative or clergy.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “But that said, I’ve watched women ogle you since my first day at the BCAS, Luke McGee, and heaven knows I’ve done my fair share. So it’s no great surprise to me that women find you to be a dangerously handsome man. But I also know you love me, you love God and you love your family with a vengeance, and in every single situation I’ve ever seen you in with a woman—me included—you’ve proven yourself to be one of the most honorable and decent man I’ve ever known.”

A slow grin traveled his lips. He slipped an arm to her waist, pulling her close. “Really?”

“Really.” She scrunched her nose. “Of course your thick head and caveman mentality does cancel a lot of that out, you know.”

His grin faded to soft as he caressed her cheek, weaving his hand into her hair. “I love you, Katie Rose,” he whispered, a prick of wetness in his eyes. “Thank you for loving me.”

“You’re welcome, Luke,” she said softly, grazing his jaw with the tips of her fingers. The barest hint of a twinkle lit in her eye. “It’s not too hard, you know—most of the time.”

He zeroed in on her lips, and his mouth went dry. “Dangerously handsome? Caveman mentality?” Prodding her back on the couch, he gave her a grin that had trouble written all over it. “You’re putting ideas into my head, Sass,” he whispered, taking his time to suckle her ear.

“Wouldn’t take much, McGee,” she said, voice breathless. “You tend to have a one-track mind when it comes to your wife.”

The grin ramped up to perilous. “Glad you noticed. I’d be in a sorry state if you hadn’t.” In one seamless move, he eased her legs up on the couch and stretched out beside her, playfully tugging her lip before delving into a kiss that made them both groan. “I wonder,” he whispered, her skin warm against his mouth, “should I utilize my caveman skills and carry you to bed over my shoulder or …” He nuzzled his way down the curve of her throat. “Just make love to you right here?” His ragged breathing matched hers to a heartbeat as he placed wispy kisses along the delicate line of her collarbone. His hungry hand swept the length of her, pausing to play with the button of her skirt. He looked up with a half-lidded smile. “Any suggestions?”

“Just one,” she said, voice hoarse and breathing even worse. She lassoed his neck and pulled him down hard. “Shut up and kiss me.”