“The man had greeted her cheerfully when she padded into the kitchen, her clothes cautiously chosen, hair carefully brushed. A cardamom coffee cake rested on the center island, fragrant as it cooled to eating temperature. “I hope that you slept well,” James said, gesturing for her to pull up one of the nearby bar stools. Sloane settled onto the comfortable chair and forced herself to take a soothing sip of tea. She wished she could have a healthy dose of caffeine, something to help her wake up a...fter her long night of tossing and turning. She made some noncommittal noise, though. There was no reason to tell James about her strange dreams. No reason to mention Ethan’s late-night visit. Before she could weave a polite lie, though, Ethan’s unexpected voice sliced across the kitchen. “I want that oak tree down by nightfall, James.” Sloane’s gaze shot up from her stoneware mug. Her stomach flipped at the sight of Ethan, framed in the doorway to the kitchen. She’d seen him in a tuxedo, of course.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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