A Cosmic Kind of Love(50)

“Out jogging.”

I looked back at her. “Seriously?”

Richelle chuckled. “Seriously. He runs on the beach every morning whenever he’s here.”

“He’s big into his fitness, huh?” Damn, I was so not into working out.

“It’s a part of him. He’s had to be physically fit for his career most of his life. Hard habit to break. I don’t know where he gets the motivation. I like long walks, but that’s about as energetic as it gets for me. Plus, I like my hearty breakfasts, and I’ve been blessed with a good metabolism. Chris has a treat now and then, but he had a green smoothie before he went for his run.” She made a face.

My expression fell. “I’m so not a green smoothie, working-out kinda gal.” I bet Darcy was.

Richelle shrugged. “We’re all made different, I guess. That makes life beautiful.”

We chatted a little as she made French toast, and I dove on the food like a wolf, even though the thought crossed my mind that maybe I should try harder to eat more healthy. The French toast just tasted so good.

Richelle chuckled and took the seat opposite me. “Hungover?”

I swallowed, giving her a sheepish smile. “Not really. I’m just always so hungry the morning after drinking alcohol. Thank you for hosting me.”

“You don’t have to thank me again. I’ve loved having you here. I like the way my nephew is around you.” Her gaze was penetrating.

I felt the blood heat under my cheeks. “I hope I can plan a party he’ll like. He doesn’t really seem that into the idea.”

“I may have talked him into it. But I’m sure whatever you do, he’ll love.”

I gave her a grateful nod, and we talked a little about the painting she was working on as I ate. Someone had commissioned her to paint a portrait, which wasn’t her usual style, as she loved working on landscapes, but the client was a big fan. I could see why. Richelle used a palette knife to paint, so her work had texture and a vivid sense of movement that was truly appealing.

It seemed there was an unending well of smarts and talents in the family.

We heard a door open and shut, and a few seconds later Chris walked into the kitchen via the laundry room. His hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed, and his shirt stuck to him with perspiration.

My belly flipped low and deep.

Oh boy.

Bandit dove at him first, and Chris showered him with attention before striding over to us. “Morning.” He grinned at me. “You sleep okay?”

I struggled to find my voice for a second. “I . . . I uh, I slept great.”

His gaze dipped to my chest before flicking back to my face. “You got the T-shirt.”

“Yes.” My cheeks blazed, or at least felt like they did. “Thanks for that. It was really thoughtful of you.”

“Not a problem.” He glanced at his aunt and then back at me. “I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be down soon.”

I nodded, his hotness rendering me nonverbal.

I’d never been such a sucker for good looks before. It was Chris. It was everything about him.

Richelle cleared her throat, and I realized I’d been staring after him.

Whoops.

I gave her a strained smile, and she returned it with an embarrassingly knowing one.

“Maybe I can look at your ideas so far?” Richelle asked. “While we wait on Chris.”

“Oh. Sure. Um . . . let me just . . .” I pushed back from the table, grateful for the distraction. “My tablet is upstairs in my purse. I’ll be a second.”

I hurried from the room and her too-knowing gaze, shaking my head at my obviousness.

As I approached the guest room, the sound of Chris humming “Hooked on a Feeling” by Blue Swede slowed my steps. He’d put me in the bedroom opposite his. I think I stopped breathing when I realized his door was open.

I definitely stopped breathing when he came into view. His attention was on his cell, not on the voyeur out in the hall, gawking at him in his boxer briefs.

Chris was almost naked.

My throat went dry as I drank in the sight of his muscular body. He had abs. Like actual definition.

And those shoulders. So broad and strong. He looked taller half-naked.

Then he turned, giving me his back, and threw the cell on his bed. Before I could talk myself into doing the decent thing and moving away, he curled his fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs and suddenly they were around his ankles and he was kicking them off.

His ass.

Oh my.

It was a gift from the gods.

I flushed from head to toe as the muscles in his ass flexed as he strolled across the room to open a drawer in a dresser.

Reality returned, and I realized if his bedroom was set up like the room I’d slept in, he would see me as he walked past the door to get to the bathroom. I could not get caught ogling a client.

I shouldn’t be ogling a client, period!

Hurriedly tiptoeing backward down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest, I was about to release a sigh of relief when my calves hit something big and warm. Suddenly the floor moved beneath my feet, and I let out a yelp of surprise as a bark echoed it.

And I was falling.

I put my hand out to catch myself and felt the pain lash up my wrist from taking the brunt of my impact with the floor. Bandit’s face was suddenly in mine, and I groaned as I tried to avoid his kisses.