Why Not Tonight. Susan Mallery
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workmanship was precise, the lines perfect. There was something compelling about the tiny creature. He finished his email, then put the paper dragon on his bookshelf before heading to the kitchen to brew coffee.
As he waited for the machine to work its magic, he prowled the family room, spotting a tiny paper mouse on an end table. There was a turtle in the dining room and a classic crane in the foyer.
Once the coffee was done, he picked up the turtle and carried it with him to his studio. As he passed through the long hallway, he felt the force of the storm outside. According to the weather reports, it would blow itself out by the end of the day and then the cleanup would begin.
He put the turtle on his desk and began to sketch. He wasn’t sure it was possible for glass to capture the sharp edges of origami. He couldn’t use a sheet of glass and fold it—that would be too thick. So he would have to create the illusion of folds and lines.
Hours later he stared at the molten mess he’d made. It was a green blob that was more failed science experiment than turtle, but he’d learned from his mistakes and was eager to try again. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since dinner, so he went back into the house.
He found Natalie sitting at the island, a mug in front of her. She was back in her dress, with her hair all curly and her eyes slightly sleepy. She looked soft and rumpled and sexy as hell.
For a second, he allowed himself to simply look. To take in the perfect line of her cheek and the way her glasses added an impish air.
Something stirred inside of him. Not the need to re-create her in glass—no, the sensation was more base. Desire, he thought with some surprise. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked, and how her scent would surround him when he got close to her. He wanted to kiss her and taste coffee on her lips. He wanted to know what she was like in bed. Was she as feisty as she was in the rest of her life, or did she yield with a sigh designed to drive a man to madness?
She looked up and smiled. “Morning.”
He mentally turned his back on his imaginings and glanced at the clock. “Barely,” he said, his voice teasing.
“I know, I know. I indulged my inner night owl and worked until sunrise. It was glorious.”
“The work or the sunrise?”
“Both. The storm was going hot and heavy, but I could still see the light on the horizon. Nature is miraculous. What have you been doing in your studio?”
“Playing, mostly. You?”
“I painted.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s total crap, but that’s okay. From crap comes inspiration. I seem to often start with a horrible painting. I guess it’s because my mom was a painter, only she was brilliant.”
“Have you eaten?”
She shook her head. “I was trying to figure out what I wanted, although it would probably make more sense to see what you have and then decide on something.”
“Breakfast or lunch?”
“I’m open.”
“Let’s make it brunch. Omelets okay?”
“Sure.”
He headed to the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients. He stacked eggs, cheese, a red pepper and mushrooms on the counter, then pulled a box from the freezer and handed it to her. Based on her reaction to the hot chocolate, he had a feeling she would be all in.
She read the label and groaned. “Cinnamon buns? What are you doing to me?”
“You don’t want one?”
“I want all of them, but one will do.”
He turned on the oven and got out a baking sheet, then washed his hands and began chopping up the pepper.
“How do you know how to do all this?” she asked. “You’re very handy in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have expected it.”
“Mathias and I moved out when we were maybe twenty-two. Neither of us was crazy about takeout every night, so we took a couple of cooking classes. It was fun and we learned the basics.”
“And it was yet another weapon in your attracting-women arsenal.”
“Asking or telling?”
She grinned. “Oh, I’m telling.”
He was surprised. While he used to be very successful with women, in the past few years he’d stopped trying. He preferred to be alone. So how would Natalie know whether he had an arsenal or not?
He finished prepping the vegetables about the time the oven chimed that it had reached the right temperature. He slid the cinnamon rolls into the oven and set the timer, then poured more coffee and joined Natalie at the island.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.
“About five hours. I’ll take a nap later and then stay up tonight.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “You have great coverage up here.”
“There’s a tower on the edge of the property. It’s close to the hiking trails. I think the state put it in for search and rescue teams.”
“Makes sense.” She pushed a couple of buttons. “Would you say you have a moral compass?”
The question surprised him. “Don’t most people? Yes, and I try to follow it.”
“Me, too. I hate to lie. I feel icky and then I can never remember. Better to just be honest.” She paused. “Do you think people are basically good, but sometimes misguided, or do you believe there are actually evil people?”
He hesitated. Most people were basically good but there were others who seemed to be following a separate set of rules, like his father. Ceallach Mitchell wasn’t evil, but he rarely showed compassion and thought kindness was for suckers. At the same time, he expected those around him to rotate in the orbit of his greatness and be grateful for the opportunity. No, his father wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t good, either. Ronan wasn’t sure if—
He grabbed her phone and stared at the screen. The app logo made him shudder. “You said we weren’t going to play this game anymore. I’m not going to be your sperm donor.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought the questions were interesting.” She smiled. “I hadn’t realized you were so emotionally delicate.”
“I’m a typical guy who doesn’t want unexpected children wandering around.”
Her smile turned impish. “That would be your moral compass at work.”
“Good to know it’s working.” He glanced at the timer, then got up and began cracking eggs into a bowl. “Are you serious about having a baby on your own?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m playing with the idea. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fall in love.”
“You don’t really believe you’re unlucky in love, do you? You can’t base all your decisions on the actions of a single jerk.”
She hesitated just long enough for him to know there was more to the story. Something she wasn’t telling him.
“He was a jerk who said he wanted to marry me and then changed his mind.”
“That’s on him, not you.”
He got out a twelve-inch pan, figuring he’d make one big omelet, then cut it in half. He tossed the vegetables into the pan to begin to sauté.
“It was one guy, Natalie.”
“My high school romance ended badly. He cheated.”
“That was high school, and if you want to use those two men to plot a course for the rest of your romantic life, have you considered the problem might be your choices rather than a cosmically determined fate?”
She