Page 30 of Tempting Heat

He tapped one impatient finger on the journal cover and shot her a long look. “I’m asking the questions, ma’am.”

Oooh, she loved that bossy tone, but she bit her lip against the smile that threatened and nodded for him to continue.

He tapped the tip of the pen against the page. “To begin, on a scale of one to ten, how satisfied are you with your current romantic relationship?”

“Hmm.” She tipped her head back and pretended to think. “Well, my boyfriend’s been pretty distracted with his dissertation, and last week I caught him microwaving coffee that had gotten cold instead of making a new pot.”

“Mmm-hmm, okay. So his kitchen skills could be improved.” Tom ran his finger down the page as if checking something off a list. “Does he have any other areas that need attention?”

Finn’s smile softened as she considered the delight this man brought to her life every day. “Let’s see… he makes me laugh and listens when I tell him about my day and plays with my hair and looks good in my fuzzy socks. I can’t think of a single thing I’d change.”

The corner of Tom’s mouth kicked up. “So on a satisfaction scale of one to ten…”

“Nine point nine,” she said firmly. “He loses point one for the coffee thing. I mean, we’re not animals.”

“Okay, good.” Tom pretended to jot that down and then paused a beat before asking, “And how likely are you to remain in this relationship for the foreseeable future?”

Her cheeks heated as Tom’s gaze remained on the page in front of him. Although they’d spent the bulk of their free time together since that most fortuitous blizzard, they rarely talked about the future. The closest they came was agreeing on a restaurant to try that weekend or daydreaming about chucking it all and moving somewhere tropical to escape the grueling Chicago winters.

“Scale of one to ten?” She was stalling, unsure if she was brave enough to give him the answer that slammed against her rib cage and begged to be let loose.

Tom looked up. “One to ten.” His voice was rough, his eyes burning into hers, and Finn realized that her answermattered.

She drew a deep breath, pushed the air out of her lungs, and said, “Ten.”

Tom’s eyes brightened even more at her response. “And how likely is that response to change if your boyfriend joins the new economic think tank that’s opening its doors in Chicago this summer?”

She gasped. “Really? You finally accepted one of your job offers?”

He looked at her sternly. “Do I need to remind you again who’s asking the questions?”

She looked down in mock meekness, although inside she was doing flips. “Very sorry, sir. A job at an ethical investing nonprofit gets an enthusiastic ten. And if it makes my boyfriend happy, then I’m happy.”

“Excellent.” Tom nodded, then visibly tensed as he stared hard at the open journal page in front of him. “Last question. On a scale of one to ten, with one being ‘I am in a medically induced coma’ and ten being ‘I am running through the wall in a panic like the Kool-Aid Man,’ how much would it freak you out if your boyfriend told you he loved you tonight?”

Finn’s throat closed up so tightly that she couldn’t push any words out, and her silence finally pulled Tom’s eyes from the page to meet hers. In them, she saw hope and heat and a touch of fear that she wanted to chase away for good.

“Tom, I…” She blinked rapidly as tears started to gather, and Tom gently pressed a thumb to the corner of her lashes.

“Scale of one to ten, Huck,” he said gruffly.

“Ten. I mean one.” Her voice sounded thick, and her brain stopped processing numbers. “Whichever one gets you to say it to me right now, that’s the number I am.”

Tom captured her hand with his and pressed a kiss to her palm, where his touch tingled as if this were the first time his skin had met hers.

“I love you, Finn,” he said with a twist of his lips that showed off those perfect dimples. “So much. On a scale of one to ten, it’s ten million. They haven’t invented a Bullet Journal with enough pages to capture all the love in my heart for you.”

Finn gave a little sob and moved her hand to his chest, seeking out the steady beat of his heart. “And I love you too, enough to fill ten million journals.”

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, thoroughly, leaving her warm and breathless and thrilled down to her toes. “Enough to endure ten million snowed-in weekends with me?”

She twined her arms around his neck. “Enough to eat ten million of your omelets and drink ten million cups of coffee with you and listen to you read me ten million books.”

He rolled to his back and carried her with him, stretching them out side by side on the mattress. “The luckiest day of my life was the day I overslept in a strange apartment.” He stroked a hand down her hair, and she wriggled even closer to him.

“The luckiest day ofmylife was when you let me grovel to win you back,” she said, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “And guess what? Our luck’s only going to get better from here.”

And then they both stopped talking so she could prove that she was right.

THE END

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