Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON 199
When John eventually returned, his brows were
drawn together and impatience made his stride quick.
His color was heightened from the cold, which accompanied
him with a gust. When he saw her, he checked.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”
“That’s okay.” She smiled at him. “I made myself at
home.”
“So I see.” His face relaxed.
“Good cookies,” the guest remarked.
“Glad you think so.”
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
John stole one longing look from Fiona to the bedroom
door. Then, with resignation, he said, “Spaghetti.”
Fiona hid her smile. She had probably sampled his
entire repertoire. Let’s see. Spaghetti today means stirfry
tomorrow. Or was she misjudging him?
The reader nodded with apparent satisfaction and
went back to his book, oblivious to John’s frustration.
“I suppose I should get dinner started,” he said finally.
Fiona swallowed the last of her tea. “I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to. If you’d rather read, go for a
walk, take a bath…”
She almost wavered at mention of the bath. He had
one of those sinfully deep claw-foot tubs in his bathroom,
too. But there would be time. Right now, she
wanted to be with him.
“Never turn down help,” she told him cheerfully.
A flash of humor had that amazingly softening effect
on his face. “Even when they break dishes?”
“Not even then.” She stood. “Shall I chop?”
It felt like old times, except that it was other kids—