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the countertop, and pretending not to notice when she blew her nose indelicately into it.

“You really do have everything a woman could ask for,” she told him with a shaky smile as she brushed the napkin under her nose a final time.

He grinned back. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

She winced a little at the remark, even though he hadn’t meant anything by it. He really was glad she’d finally noticed. “Will you ever forgive me for being a jerk?” she asked.

“No forgiveness necessary,” he said gently. “You were never a jerk.”

She made a face that told him she knew better, but he wasn’t going to argue about it. Whatever was in the past was in the past. He wanted to focus on the future now. Especially since it looked like he’d be spending it with the only woman he’d ever loved. Handy, that. Having Bree in his life was, really, all he would ever need.

She tossed the napkin into the trash and turned to lean back against the counter, crossing her arms in a way that wasn’t so much defensive as it was protective. “I was wrong about a lot of things, Rufus,” she said softly. “But mostly about one thing. You’re not a good guy.”

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. How many times had he hated hearing her say that? And now that she was taking it back, why did it bother him so much?

She grinned. “You’re the best guy.” She strode across the kitchen and circled her arms around his waist. “Better than that,” she said as she leaned her head against his chest. “You’re my guy. And I love you. And no matter what happens between now and forever, that will keep me going.”

Rufus wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his head atop hers. “That’s all I want and can ask for, Bree,” he told her. “That’s all.”

Nineteen

IT TOOK COLE A FEW DRIVE -BYS BEFORE HE FINALLY saw the numbers of the address Lulu had given him as her studio’s, stenciled above the door of a narrow limestone-fronted building on Main Street. She’d told him if he came at four, she’d be ready for him, which was why he had arrived at quarter to three. He didn’t want Lulu to be ready for him. Lulu was much more herself when she was unprepared.

He had replayed the episode in the car the night before a dozen times after he’d gotten home, and he still wasn’t able to figure out exactly what had happened. He really hadn’t intended for things to go as far as they had—at least not in the park. He’d thought they could neck like teenagers for a while, and then, if things went well enough, they could go back to Lulu’s house and spend the night together. If things didn’t go well enough, then at least they could have enjoyed some great necking.

But almost immediately into that first kiss, something had taken hold of both of them. Kissing Lulu wasn’t like kissing other women. He didn’t know why that was, only that it was true. It took awhile for him to warm up with other women. Not that he didn’t enjoy physical closeness with the opposite sex, but at any given moment, he generally had a lot on his mind, and it took him awhile to be able to focus, even on something like physical closeness with the opposite sex.

That wasn’t the case with Lulu. The minute he’d laid eyes on her at Bree’s apartment, he’d stopped thinking about everything except her. And being physically close to her. The closer, the better. Hell, the more physical, the better. And the minute their mouths touched, everything else in the world ceased to exist. There had just been sensation, desire, and passion. There had been Lulu. And getting closer to Lulu. And touching Lulu. And once he’d started touching Lulu…

He nearly tripped over his own feet at the memory and had to grab the bannister of the cramped stairwell as he made his way to the fourth, and uppermost, floor. Never had he been with such a spontaneous, uninhibited woman. He didn’t know why he’d been so surprised by the quickness and intensity of her response to him. After some of the things she’d written in her journal, he knew she was a deeply passionate, profoundly sensuous woman. But she didn’t come across that way in person. At least, she hadn’t until last night. What had happened in the car had been completely unplanned and totally unexpected.

Which was why he had come to her studio before she planned for or expected him to be there.

When he finally crested the top stair, two doors greeted him, each identified by a different letter. B, he knew, was Lulu’s studio, but there were no windows for him to look through, and nothing that indicated the space belonged to her. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard the downbeat and backbeat of hard rock, but not much else. With music that loud, there was no way she would hear him knocking. So he tried the knob and, finding it unlocked, turned it and pushed the door open.

The music was overwhelmingly loud now, so he ducked inside and closed the door behind himself before it escaped to space A across the way, potentially invading someone else’s studio and harassing someone else’s muse. Or whatever the hell those things were that artsy people were allegedly inspired by. The studio itself was small, no more than fifteen feet by fifteen, and there were no windows to speak of, save a row of long skinny ones near where the wall joined the ceiling on the far side of the room all propped wide open. In spite of that, the space was crowded with more color and light than Cole had ever seen in one place before.

Lulu had more than made up for the lack of sunlight by hanging

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