If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(31)

He forced himself to stop thinking about Mia and focus on Ashlyn. That was the most important relationship in his life.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Ashlyn. I made pancakes for breakfast."

She didn't turn around. He walked closer to the window and saw Mia puttering around the patio. She wore shorts and a tank top, showing off her beautiful curves, and his stomach tightened into knots.

Yeah, it wasn't just her kind heart and warm smile he was attracted to; her killer body had a lot to do with it, too.

Despite his very recent resolution to put some distance between them, he heard himself say, "Should we see if Mia wants pancakes?"

He'd barely finished the question when Ashlyn bolted from the room, her long hair flying out behind her. When he got to the hall, he saw the sliding door off the kitchen was open. He grabbed the plate of pancakes he'd covered in foil, the bottle of syrup and headed next door.

When he came through the gate, he saw Mia giving Ashlyn a quizzical smile.

"What do you need, honey?" Mia asked.

His daughter pointed to their house.

"You have to say the words, so I can understand," Mia said.

"Pancakes," Ashlyn bit out, then pointed again to the house.

As Mia followed his daughter's fingers, her gaze caught with his, and a jolt ran through his body. God, she was pretty with her golden hair and incredible blue eyes. She didn't have on a speck of makeup, but her skin was flawless and warmly kissed by the morning sun. He'd like to kiss that face, too, every sweet inch of it.

"Good morning," she said.

"Breakfast," he replied shortly, having as much trouble now as Ashlyn had had to get out a comprehensible word. He lifted the plate in his hands. "I figured you're busy, so I brought the pancakes to you."

"They smell delicious."

"Did you already eat?" he asked, moving forward.

"I just had coffee."

"Can I tempt you?"

She hesitated. "Probably too much, Jeremy."

He had a feeling she was talking about more than pancakes, and he swallowed hard at that provocative answer.

Mia's cheeks turned red. "I can't believe I just said that. I'm going to get some plates and silverware."

"Do you want to eat inside?"

"Out here is good. Just clear a space on the table."

As she practically ran back into the house, he looked at the table laden with what he might call crap, but what he suspected she would call art, and he wasn't sure how to start clearing a space. "What do you think, Ash? What can we move?"

Ashlyn set down her doll and then started putting a collection of teacups into a nearby box. Soon, there was space for him to set down the pancakes and syrup and even a little room for the plates when Mia returned.

"Are those blueberry pancakes?" Mia asked.

"Yes and the blueberries are organic, picked at the local farm."

"By you?"

"No. By the person who runs the shack on the side of the road."

"Close enough," she said with a smile. "I love breakfast, and yet I almost never make it; I'm often running late in the mornings. I can't remember the last time I had pancakes. What a treat!" She glanced over at Ashlyn, who was actually eating with enthusiasm. "You love pancakes, too, don't you, Ashlyn?"

The little girl nodded her head, chewing away.

Mia turned back to Jeremy. "Thanks for sharing your meal with me. It's very thoughtful."

"You're more than welcome," he said, thinking he could look into her eyes for a really long time and have no desire to look away.

"Jeremy," she said softly.

He could see the conflict in her eyes, desire warring with reason. There was an undeniable attraction between them, but what to do about it was a big question and one he couldn't answer right now. "Eat your pancakes before they get cold, Mia. I'm sure whatever you have to say can wait."

"You're right. It can wait." She picked up her fork, took a bite, then sighed with delight. "Wow."

He laughed, feeling ridiculously proud. "Really? That good? The mix came out of a box."

"The blueberries didn't, and you put it all together. I'm impressed."

He wanted to impress her in a lot of other ways, but as Ashlyn reached for another pancake, he was reminded that he had a chaperone. "So how are things going around here? Did you get a lot done last night?"

"I filled about six trash bags, half to go to charity and the other half to the trash. But to be honest, I feel like I'm chipping away at an iceberg with a bobby pin."

"There is a lot of stuff."

"What you see is about ten percent of it. The problem is that I keep coming up with a plan of attack and then decide to change it. First, I was going to do the studio. Then I decided I should do the house, so I could be more comfortable in the room I'm staying in."

"That makes sense."

"Then a woman showed up in the studio yesterday afternoon and told me she wanted her painting back. She said she didn't want it to be in whatever exhibition I was planning, and she was kind of rude about it. So then I started thinking maybe I should go back to the studio and focus my efforts there."

"What was the woman's name?" he asked curiously.