Christmas at Thornton Hall. Lynn Marie Hulsman

      Why do you care what Jasper thinks? I asked myself. I didn’t like the question. Shut up, Juliet.

      “What I’m trying to say,” I stammered out loud, “is that there must be rules against…you know, fraternization or whatever.” I waited for a response and got none. “It’s just that we have to think professionally, right?” No answer. “Can I use your bathroom?” I called.

      “Go right through. You don’t have to ask any more,” he answered.

      By the time I got back from the bathroom, he had a steaming cup of foamy coffee sitting next to a gorgeous plate of chocolatey pancakes.

      “Sweets for the sweet,” he said, leaning over and nuzzling my cheek.

      What was I doing? I had just been preaching to Posy about sticking to the plan, and as of yesterday, hot sex with my co-worker under my boss’s nose, and a ten-thousand calorie breakfast had definitely not been part of it.

      “Edward, listen…”

      “Shh,” he said, putting his finger to my lips. “Not this time, Wordy Girl. This time let’s just enjoy our day, and not talk it to death.” He looked at me long and hard, with something like appreciation in his green-gray eyes. “All I know is this – I just made earth-moving, mind-twisting, bone-dissolving love with a woman who really means something to me. That’s a good thing. Now eat your pancakes. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”