Everything but a Husband. Karen Templeton

stepped closer, smelling of cold air and aftershave and some indefinable unique scent that made her want to smell more. That made her want to run away. She shut her eyes, reminding herself it was a trap, making men smell good. Nature’s way of derailing a woman, making her believe in things that weren’t real. Of making her miss the point. Not to mention the boat.

      “Which one’s yours?” he asked, looming over the table, his hands braced on his hips. “And please don’t tell me it’s the Jell-O mold.”

      Her own laugh surprised her. She’d really have to watch that. Letting him make her laugh. Because then, see, she might discover she really liked him. And even that was too great a risk. “No. It’s the one over there, by the cranberry sauce. Oh! What are you doing?”

      Del had made an exaggerated show of peering over his shoulder before snitching one of the individually sliced rolls, holding it over the palm of his other hand as he munched. “Sampling,” he said around the bite, then groaned.

      Galen shrugged, trying not to take it personally. “It’s not to everyone’s liking, I know—”

      “Are you kidding?” Del stuffed another bite into his mouth, promptly speared another piece with a plastic fork. “You made this from scratch?”

      She nodded, feeling a blush of pride sweep up her cheeks.

      “God, I haven’t had anything this good since I was a kid at my grandmother’s house.” Then he gave her a smile, all goofy and wonderful and warm.

      With a little cry, she ran from the room.