Page 66 of A Tempting Seduction

By nine-thirty, both kids were showing signs of exhaustion. Suzy had been rubbing her eyes for the past twenty minutes, and JR's energy was starting to flag despite his best efforts to stay awake.

“Time for bed, little ones,” I announced, beginning the process of gathering scattered toys and blankets.

Ford scooped up Suzy, who didn't protest being carried to the bedroom where the playpen waited. I followed them and watched as he settled her gently into the portable crib. She was asleep before her head hit the small pillow, her tiny fist curled around the stuffed animal she'd brought from home.

JR required more negotiation. He wanted to brush his teeth, use the bathroom, have a drink of water, and hear three bedtime stories. By the time he was finally settled on my bed with his favorite blanket, it was past ten o'clock.

“Will you check on us if we have bad dreams?” he asked sleepily.

“Of course,” I promised, tucking the blanket around his small body.

“Will Uncle Ford check on us too?”

“I’ll be right here, until your mom comes and gets you.”

This assurance seemed to satisfy him. Within minutes, his breathing had evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep.

Ford and I crept out of the bedroom like parents protecting naptime, carefully closing the door behind us.

“They're incredible kids,” I said, settling onto the couch that had been restored to its normal configuration.

“They adore you.” Ford sat beside me, close enough that I could smell his soap mixed with the lingering scent of pizza and children's shampoo. “You're so natural with them.”

“I love kids. I always have.”

“Do you want children of your own someday?”

The question was casual, but I could hear the weight behind it. We were entering territory that felt significant, conversations that mattered for the future rather than just the present.

“I used to think so,” I said carefully. “When I was engaged before, we talked about having children. It seemed like the natural progression.”

“And now?”

I looked into Ford's warm brown eyes, saw genuine interest rather than judgment.

“Now I think I'd want children with the right person. Someone who'd be a true partner in raising them. Someone who'd love them as much as I would.”

“Someone who'd build blanket forts and teach them to slide down couch cushions?”

“Someone exactly like that.”

Ford's hand found mine again, and this time there were no small voices to interrupt the moment. His thumb resumed its gentle tracing pattern, sending warmth up my arm and settling in my chest.

“Ruby,” he said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Come here.”

I shifted closer on the couch, close enough that our thighs touched, close enough to see the warmth in his brown eyes.

Ford's free hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing across my lower lip with devastating gentleness.

“I've been thinking about kissing you all evening.”

“Just thinking about it?”

“Trying to be good. Hard to concentrate on anything else when you're wearing that sweater.”