Birthright

around him, he lowered his mouth to hers again and took the fall.
    D oug?” Lana let his hair sift through her fingers, and looked out the window. From where she lay she could see the glow of the streetlights as they came on.
    “Um. Yeah.”
    “I have one thing to say about this.” She gave a long sigh, stretched as best she could with his weight pinning her to the mattress. “Mmmmm.”
    His lips curved against her throat. “That pretty much covers it.”
    “Now I guess I owe you dinner.”
    “I guess you do. Does that mean you’re going to put the pinstripes back on and get me hot again?”
    “Actually, I was going to ask if you had a shirt I could borrow while I see what I can do with whatever you’ve got in the kitchen.”
    “I’ve got a shirt, but I’m warning you, there isn’t much in the kitchen.”
    “I can do a lot with very little. Oh, and I have one more thing to say.”
    This time he lifted his head and looked down at her. “What?”
    “I’ve got the baby-sitter until midnight. So I hope you’ve got some protein in the kitchen, because I’m not done with you yet.”
    He grinned down at her—delighted, flattered, aroused. “How’d I manage to miss you whenever I came back to town?”
    “I guess it wasn’t time yet. Now you’re going to miss me whenever you leave town.”
    Because that rang true, entirely too true, he rolled away and got up. “There’s a library I need to assess,” he said as he walked to the closet. “In Memphis.”
    “Oh.” She sat up, kept her tone very casual. “When are you leaving?”
    “A couple of days.” He pulled out a shirt. “I’m coming back right after I’m done.” He turned now, walked back and handed her the shirt. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be away for an extended period with all that’s going on.”
    She nodded, scooted off the bed to slip into the shirt. “I have to agree. Your family needs you.”
    “Yeah. And there’s another thing.”
    She glanced over her shoulder as she did up the buttons. “Yes?”
    “It doesn’t look like I’m finished with you yet either.”
    “Good.” She stepped to him, rose on her toes and brushed her lips to his. “That’s good.”
    Leaving it at that, she walked out to the kitchen.
    He dragged a hand through his hair and followed her. “Lana, I don’t know what you’re looking for.”
    She opened the fridge and with his shirt skimming her thighs peered inside. “Neither do I, until I find it.”
    “I wasn’t talking about food.”
    “I know what you were talking about.” She looked back at him. “You can relax, Doug. I’m really good at living in the moment, dealing with a day at a time.” She looked back in the fridge and shook her head. “As, obviously, you are, judging by the fact that you have half a six-pack of beer, a quart of milk, two lonely eggs and an unopened jar of mayo.”
    “You forgot the deli ham in the drawer there.”
    “Hmm. Well, I love a challenge.” She started opening cupboards and found a set of four mismatched plates, three water glasses, one wineglass and a box of Cap’n Crunch, which had her sending Doug a pitying glance.
    “It’s a childhood weakness,” he offered. “Like the Pop-Tarts.”
    “Uh-huh. You also have potato chips, a jar of pickles, a half a loaf of squishy white bread and a half-eaten bag of cookies.”
    Uncomfortable, and afraid she’d poke in his freezer and find the half gallon of ice cream and the frozen pizza, he stepped in to block the fridge with his body.
    “I told you there wasn’t much. We can still go out or we can get some carryout.”
    “If you think I can’t make a meal out of this, you’re very much mistaken. I need a pot so I can hard-boil these eggs. You do have a pot, don’t you?”
    “I’ve got a pot. You want one of those beers?”
    “No, thanks.”
    He got out the pot, handed it over. “Be right back.”
    Lana rolled up her sleeves and got to work.
    The eggs were starting to boil when he returned, just a little out of breath and carrying a bottle of wine. “Ran across to the liquor store,” he told her.
    “That was very sweet, and yes, I’d like a glass of wine.”
    “What’re you making?”
    “Ham and egg salad sandwiches. We’ll have them with the chips and consider it a picnic.”
    “Works for me.” He opened the wine, poured some for her in his lonely wineglass.
    “How does your mother feel about the fact that you don’t cook?”
    “We try not to discuss it, as