“I would so love that,” she whispered and her pretty face said this was very true.

“Excellent,” I returned. “However, I’ll tell you now that offer has a caveat and that is that you continue to speak distinctly, no muttering, and you utilize these products as Jean-Michel suggests, not fall back to your flair for the dramatic.”

I had considered getting into her attire with this offer and that was to say requesting that she cease dressing like a budding rather inexpensive escort but I didn’t want to push too hard too soon.

Alas, at my words, her face turned guarded and she asked, “Are you bribing me with makeup?”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed.

She stared at me and did this for some time.

I waited patiently, holding her stare.

Suddenly, she burst out laughing.

I relaxed but did so noting that laughing, she was even prettier.

Her eyes moved to her father and she declared, “You know, Dad, I’d probably be less of a pain in your ass if you bribed me with expensive kickass makeup.”

I looked to Jake, who had a warm expression on his face and his eyes on his daughter.

His lips were turned up when he said, “Noted.”

Although I very much liked the warm look on Jake’s face, I still took that moment to lament that I hadn’t included curtailing the use of swear words in my bribe.

“So, can I go shopping with Josie?” Amber asked her father.

Jake moved our way. “After you’re done being grounded, knock yourselves out.”

I smiled delightedly.

Jake turned his warm look to me.

I kept my smile pinned to my face even as I fought another shiver.

Jake moved and stopped close to me, very close, a familiar, intimate close I liked very much, before he stated, “Need the keys to the Buick, Slick.”

“On the counter by the phone,” I told him.

He didn’t move there. He stayed close, held my gaze and at the look in his eyes, the look I’d seen the first time I had dinner with his family, I fought yet another shiver.

“Got ‘em, Dad,” Conner called.

“Right,” Jake murmured, not tearing his eyes from me.

I began to struggle with my breathing.

This struggle intensified when he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You’re the shit, Slick.”

These words meant nothing to me except for the way he said them, which I found in that moment meant everything.

“I’m assuming that’s good?” I asked and he pulled back but in a way that his face stayed close.

“You’d assume right.”

At his closeness and what it was doing to my breathing pattern, I had to force my smile, but I managed it.

He smiled back but, alas, he turned and moved away.

“Let’s go,” he said to Conner.

“Can we make the sauce now, Josie?” Ethan asked me. “I’m freaking starved.”

“Of course,” I replied, looked to Amber to see her attention back to the sketches, turning the pages (there were many, Jean-Michel had been very generous with his time and talent), studying them intently. “As you can see,” I started quietly and she turned her eyes to me. “You are very pretty, Amber. Very.” I stressed and that marvel again suffused her face as I carried on in a whisper. “Don’t hide that, lovely girl. Give us a treat and show it to the world.”

Her lips parted and I reached out a hand to touch the back of hers before I decided to leave her be and move to Ethan.

* * * * *

“Stop right there!” I demanded.

It was after dinner and we’d retired to the family room to watch TV.

At dinner, Conner had attempted to eat his asparagus but it was evident by the look on his face whenever he took a bite that he did this to be polite (which I thought was quite nice and said good things about him). However, as he wasn’t enjoying it, I informed him he didn’t have to force it down at the same time making a mental note to try broccoli on him when they were again dining at Lavender House.

Now, Ethan was on the floor at the coffee table doing homework. Amber was sitting in an armchair, having told us (what I thought was suspiciously) that her homework was already done. And Conner was somewhere else in the house having taken a call from one of his “babes” (this, strangely, got him a pointed look from his father to which Conner mouthed, “I know,” before disappearing from the room).

I was sitting next to Jake on the couch, a place he had put me by seating himself and grabbing my hips when I got close in order to use them to plant me beside him.

Although I obviously preferred to select my own seat, there was something about his actions (not to mention my location) that I liked more.

A great deal more.

Amber was in control of the remote and she’d just happened upon a show I much liked.

At my command, she paused it at the same exact time Jake rumbled, “Babe, we are not watchin’ Project Runway.”

“No way!” Ethan put in his vote.

But I’d turned my head to Jake. “But we must. This show is excellent. I’ve seen it several times before and it’s marvelous.”

Jake held my eyes as he replied, “Josie, no reality show is marvelous.”

I felt my brows draw together as I informed him with authority, “It’s not reality. It’s fashion.”

“I so am seeing how Josie being around is gonna be way cool,” Amber stated at this juncture and I looked to her. “Another chick in the mix means reruns of Project Runway and no Monday Night Football.”

Amber’s comment pleased me greatly thus I turned my head back to Jake and smiled, whereupon he declared, “We were gonna miss the beginning so we’re tapin’ the game at home. My boys and me can watch it later. But now, we should watch something we all wanna watch.”

“Yeah,” Ethan agreed.

I had a feeling that the divide between what Amber and I would wish to watch and what Jake and Ethan (and Conner, when he returned from his discourse with his “babe”) would want to watch was such that it would be impossible to traverse.

But, I wasn’t dwelling on this.

I simply wanted to watch Project Runway.

To make this happen, I leaned into Jake and spoke cajolingly.

“Jake, you don’t understand. What they do on this show is remarkable. An artist is inspired by many things but they’re normally free to be inspired by whatever moves them. On this show, they’re given the inspiration they must utilize and it’s most difficult to create under those kinds of conditions. And they have an impossibly short time to come up with a vision and the period in which they have to create the actual garments is, well…nearly criminal.”

Jakes brows lifted as his full lips quirked and he asked, “Criminal?”

“Indeed,” I answered with the utmost seriousness. “And Tim Gunn is exceptionally talented. He has an eye the likes I’ve never seen and I’ve worked in fashion for twenty-three years. Not to mention, his manner is most appealing and his ability to communicate with emotion, candor and diplomacy is a marvel. He in and of himself is worth watching that show. However, the judges are quite savvy as well and their commentary is most illuminating.”

Jake was losing the fight with his smile and I was hoping losing the will to deprive Amber and me of our program so I leaned closer to him to continue beseeching.

But as I did so, Amber spoke.

“Oh my God,” she breathed and I looked to her. “It just hit me. Do you know Heidi or Zac?”

My head tipped to the side in confusion. “Zac?”

“Zac Posen,” she replied. “He took over for Michael Kors.”

“My goodness,” I whispered with delight. “Zac Posen is on the show now?”

“Yeah. And he rocks,” Amber told me.

This I just had to see.

Therefore, I whipped my head around to Jake and shared, “Zac Posen is immensely talented. This is most intriguing. The loss of Michael Kors is a blow but I’m very interested to see what Posen contributes to the show.”

And in order to fully communicate my point, I leaned in on my “very” and added putting my hand to his chest in entreaty.

When I was done speaking, I saw his eyes had warmed and I sensed I was going to get my way so I felt a variety of places warm on me, including my heart.

He proved me right when he murmured, “We’ll watch your show, baby.”

I smiled big.

Jake’s eyes dropped to my mouth.

Ethan exclaimed in outrage, “Dad!”

Jake looked to his son. “It’s an hour, Eath. You’ll live.”

“It’s an hour and a half,” Amber contradicted.

“Jesus,” Jake muttered, the dread in that one word unmasked and I curiously found this most amusing.

Thus, I smiled at him again.

His eyes dropped to my mouth again, another area of my body warmed and it wasn’t my heart.

“Right on!” Amber cried. I forced my eyes from Jake and looked to her. “So,” she pressed. “Do you know Zac or Heidi?”

“Alas, no,” I replied and her face fell. “Henry has, of course, taken photos of Heidi so I have spoken to her people but he did the shoot while I was at another location, preparing for him to film a video. Though, I was once at a party with Nina Garcia. But I got a headache and had to leave before I was able to meet her.”

“Bummer,” Amber mumbled.

It was. I’d quite looked forward to meeting Ms. Garcia.

I let Amber’s mumble go and settled in, turning my gaze to the TV, ordering, “Let’s begin, Amber.”

“Cool,” she said and hit the button on the remote.

I was watching carefully as they were showing scenes from the episode before since I wanted to catch up as best I could. That said, it was far from lost on me that Jake’s arm went along the couch behind me and directly curled around my shoulders so he could pull me into his side.

He was warm, the position was comfortable and in order to make it warmer and more comfortable, I leaned into him and lifted my legs to the couch at my side to curl even closer.

At this point, Conner joined us and when he did, he murmured, “What the hell? Seriously? Project Runway?”

“Shush!” Amber hissed (before I could).

I lifted my eyes to Conner to see he was not looking at the TV in disgust but at his father and I curled on the couch together and he was again doing this with speculation. His eyes moved to Amber but I was missing the show so I moved my gaze back to the TV.

Jake slouched into the couch, lifting his booted feet to the coffee table and pulling me closer.

I settled in, placing my cheek to his chest with a sigh.

And I watched Project Runway with Jake’s family, liberally conversing with Amber through it, doing this to share our opinions and commentary and surprisingly (and gratifyingly) always agreeing.

In the end, when the designer we wanted to win won, and the one who (alas) produced an unusual outfit that didn’t quite hit the mark that Amber and I both agreed should be dismissed was dismissed, she and I shared a harmonious smile.

And that warmed me too.

* * * * *

“Give us a second,” Jake ordered, grabbing my hand and moving us away from the car salesman.

It was afternoon the next day and I’d decided on a car.

A car, I could tell as I studied his profile while he was moving us away from the salesman, that Jake didn’t agree on.

He stopped us out of hearing distance and kept hold of my hand as he turned his body to face me.

“Babe, you’re not buyin’ that car.”

I blinked up at him. “But Jake, it’s a nice color.”

He stared down at me and if I was reading him correctly, it was with disbelief.

“And it’s inexpensive,” I continued, even though the cost was not really a concern.

This I’d shared with Jake earlier, which meant we’d already been to the Porsche, Lexus and Cadillac dealerships before we stopped by this used dealership on my whim. That whim being me seeing the car we just test drove in the lot and crying out, “Let’s stop here!”

Jake, being Jake, had swung into the lot.

“It’s cheap because it’s a year old and has sixty thousand miles on it,” he stated.

“Is that a lot?”

He stared at me another moment before he shook his head, looked at his boots then looked back at me. “Yeah. It’s a lot,” he told me. “That kind of mileage means its first owner drove the fuck outta it. Which, before you ask, is not good.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

“Since you can afford it, you’re gettin’ the Cayenne,” he declared.