He wasn’t outwardly spiritual or woo woo in any way, but he did believe, quite strongly, in fate. He knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Taking the first step in what he hoped would be many into a relationship with Ella.

He knew exactly what he wanted, and it was right on the other side of the door.

He heard music, her scratchy, cartoon-voiced humming and her steps as she moved around. He smiled as he knocked.

When she opened the door, her gaze slid up his body and to his face, her lips curved into a smile he knew was just for him as she caught sight of the armful of flowers he carried. All as he stood there stunned. Her hair was tousled, like she’d just woken up and rolled from bed. Her eyes, normally gorgeous and often doe-wide, looked mysterious and smoky. The sweater molded to her br**sts and down her waist to well-worn jeans.

She looked good enough to taste. He’d developed some sort of physical addiction to her, to touching her now that he could after so many years of yearning.

“Hello, Andrew. You look very handsome.” She managed to be sweet and come-hither all at once as he handed her the flowers.

“Honey, whatever I am, it pales next to you.” He reached up, caressing the side of her neck, up the smooth silk of her skin into her hair. Many men had a thing for long hair, but he loved the sight of a woman’s neck, and hers was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

“You look beautiful. Sexy.” He moved closer to her; she held her ground, looking up into his face. Without breaking his gaze away, he closed the door at his back. They stood alone in the quiet, small entry. She wore perfume, earthy and spicy. Interesting, he hadn’t noticed any perfume before. How could he have missed it?

“I’ve never experienced anyone like you before,” she whispered.

“How so, Red?” He kissed the tip of her nose because he could and because those freckles called to him.

“No one has ...” She licked her lips. “You look at me, and I feel like I’ve had a glass of champagne or something. You make me drunk with, gah, I don’t know, your sexuality maybe, your presence. Whatever it is, you have it on at ten, and I can’t seem to get enough.”

Her skin, so pale, sprinkled with ginger freckles; the curve of her cheeks, the lush pillow of her bottom lip, that red hair he was so in love with, that and her voice, the voice no one else on earth had, everything about Ella Tipton called to him. No one was like her. He wanted to laugh, but she’d just exposed herself in some sense, and he didn’t want her to hesitate to do so again.

“I think that may have been the best compliment I’ve ever been given.” He dipped his head and kissed those lips, the wrapping on the flowers she held crinkled, their heady scent mixing with whatever perfume she wore and the heat rising from her skin.

He groaned, the flowers stopping him from hauling her against his body. Frustrated by the reality that they would be expected at the pub by their friends. When all he wanted was to take her to her bed, undress her slowly and kiss every single inch of her body.

She sucked his tongue, bringing his hips forward into the softness of her body. The fingers of her right hand dug into his left biceps, holding him in place as he plundered her mouth. Damn it, she tasted so good he never wanted to stop kissing her.

Still, he did bring her the flowers, and he hadn’t gotten three steps into her place before he started smooching on her. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to get his breath—and his control—back.

“I missed you yesterday. I tried to stop by the café, but my schedule was crazy all day long.” He followed her into the tiny kitchen, where she put the flowers, none the worse for wear, into a vase.

“Well, I did see you today.”

He liked the amusement in her voice.

“Well sure. But not yesterday.”

“As much as I like seeing you, I figured you were busy. Ben came in to give Erin a ride home, and he said you were taking your mom to a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon. Is she well?”

“She’s fine, normal, pretty healthy. But the stress of this rift over Ben is hard on her. She’s having trouble sleeping and all that sort of thing.”

Her smile softened, and she reached out slowly to cup his cheek. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”

She was helping, and she had no idea. Just the way she listened, the way she calmed him down and made him warm and happy was helping.

“I really wish I could have you all to myself tonight.” He hadn’t been prone to blurting in a very long time, probably since he was a teenage boy.

She grinned, ducking her head, the delicate pink of her blush rising up her neck and making his mouth water with the desire to kiss her just there, at the base of her hairline where he was sure she’d be very sensitive.

He sighed. “But we have a date. They’re going to be in our business enough as it is. Imagine if we were late.”

“Enough for what?”

He exhaled slow, looking for his self-control. “Long enough to make it count.”

The moments between them thickened, the energy between them heating. It felt good to be with her, good to have this back-and-forth, and the sexual tension made him as antsy as he’d been at sixteen. Just bursts of desire as he thought about her all day long. When they finally landed in bed—and he knew without a doubt they would—it would be something major.

He held his arm out. “Come on, before I decide to take that invitation in your eyes.” They walked to his car, his arm around her shoulders.