Cutter's Law

"I'd like to start again."

A smile flirted with her lips. "I thought we did that earlier tonight."

"That was for the audience. This is different." He drew in a breath and let it out. "How long will you be here? I mean, are you leaving tomorrow or what?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well, it's Friday. Paige wants me to stay the weekend and go home after church on Sunday."

"Would you, that is, would you like to, I mean..."

"Go out with you tomorrow night?" She grinned up at him. "I'd love to."

Morgan's eyes widened as if he'd expected a different answer. "So that's a yes?"

"Absolutely. What time and what shall I wear? I only brought jeans with me, and the dress I wore from work. I planned to wear that on Sunday."

"Seven o'clock. Jeans will be fine. We're pretty casual around here. Not too fancy, you know." The last was said with a certain tightness to his voice.

"Casual's fine. I'll be ready."

He jingled his car keys, then as if wondering if he was doing the right thing, placed his hands on her shoulders, leaned down and touched his lips to hers. The heat the touch of their hands had generated was nothing compared to the bonfire this simple kiss provoked.

Allison leaned into him, grateful for his hands on her shoulders because her knees were so weak she wasn't sure they would hold her. He tasted like a heady elixir, one that should have "dangerous" written all over it.

Then he lifted his head, his breathing uneven, and his hands tightened once on her shoulders before he released her and stepped back.

"Tomorrow night. Seven sharp."

"Seven." She was surprised she could even talk. "Yes."

Then he was gone, leaving Allison standing in the turnaround with her blood racing through her veins at a galloping speed and her fingertips touching her lips.

Oh, Allie girl. What are you getting yourself into?