His Heir, Her Honor by Catherine Mann Page A

streaking into her hairline. He thumbed the splotch and she jerked away.
    He wished life’s messes were as easily cleared. “Sleep on it. If in the morning when you’re dry-eyed and rested you’re still interested, then believe me, I’ll have you on the nearest flat surface before the crepes cool.”
    The anger in her face eased a hint to reservation. “You can cook crepes?”
    â€œIs that such a surprise?” He wanted to coax a smile to her face, end this day on a lighter note, anything to keep tears from her eyes. “I would have made them for you that morning if you’d stayed around.”
    She studied him with a narrowed, discerning gaze. “Is that what the cold shoulder has been about these past months? Because I left before breakfast? I remember things differently.”
    â€œTell me what you recall.” He could only think of how much he’d gone through the motions that morning, his insides shredded by the memories of his mother’s assassination. He’d been intent on not letting Lilah get too close, maintaining the distance that protected him from a past he didn’t stand a chance of reconciling.
    â€œI remember the scent of bacon in the air along with the gruff tone in your voice and the way you hauled on your clothes for work.” Hurt leaked into her voice, filling him with regret. “Can you deny that breakfast together would have been decidedly awkward?”
    The last thing he wanted was to revisit the past in any form, especially given how poorly he’d handled it all in the ensuing months. He mentally kicked himself for bringing up that night in the first place. “Why don’t we focus on now, rather than then? Meet me for crepes in about—” he glanced at his watch “—nine hours.”
    Steeling himself from taking things further tonight, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and tasted the salty remnants of her tears. He stood quickly before she could pull away or get angry again, and gestured the way toward her room. As she walked ahead silently, he realized that while her crying had stopped, he couldstill see the tension rippling through her spine. He’d accomplished nothing to help her.
    God, he hated being mystified when it came to this woman. He always, always could reason his way through anything. But the way he felt about Lilah had wreaked havoc on his self-control.
    With the scent of her still on his skin bringing back memories of their night together, it was all he could do to keep from charging after her and taking her up on her enticing offer….
    Â 
    He watched Lilah across the ballroom. Their kiss on the rooftop garden had spiraled out of control until they were seconds from having sex right there. Only the prospect of frostbite had convinced them to relocate. To his office. ASAP.
    Anticipation ramped his heart rate as he tracked her making her way through the throng toward the exit, doing her best to disengage herself from the other partiers attempting to snag her attention. Jim—the head of pediatrics—was especially persistent, but then the guy wanted a substantial chunk of some grant money that had just come through.
    Vaguely, Carlos registered his own name being called. He half glanced to find the new radiologist—Nancy Something—waving to snag his attention. He nodded politely then surged ahead before he could become entangled in a conversation. His full focus was on Lilah and their assignation.
    His office was distant and private since Lilah had relocated his space after the Medina exposé hit the news and brought reporters rushing into his life. And speaking of the press, he checked his back to make sure no one followed him down the back hall.
    He slid his key into the office lock just as a hand fell to rest on his shoulder. Lilah. Turning, he looped an arm around her and sealed his mouth to hers again, reaching behind to open the door.
    Her fists tightened in his tux, her