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Lazily rolling out of bed, Chloe caught the first of the morning light from the open blinds as it danced against her closed eyes. When she sat up she could hear activity in the kitchen and guessed Brady was already up. He always was an early riser. The fight the night before forgotten and the tentative truce between them, she headed for the stairs.

The sun blazed a thick blanket of heat into her room and she was thankful for the lightweight nightgown she'd found amongst the stack of clothes in her room.

At the top of the stairs her breath hitched as she watched a shirtless Brady flipping pancakes on an old iron griddle. His gray sweat pants were riding low on his hips, showing off his muscled torso and the roll of muscles in his back as he moved. Her mouth watered. She found herself wondering what it would feel like to have him in her bed again. To feel his strong arms around her when they made love. Tread lightly, she thought. The agreement between them was less than nine hours old and the last thing she needed was to break it because her hormones were on overdrive.

She stood poised on the stairs watching him. From the corner of his eye, he could make out her smooth, shapely legs. What he wouldn't give to run his fingers over her silky thighs and bury them deep into her body while she rocked against him, drawing a powerful orgasm that would shatter their already shaky friendship. He tore his eyes from her before he did something he knew would cross the line.

The simmer that had begun the night she came to him, he knew, would soon boil over and they would be forced to confront the anger and wounded pride, along with the feelings of lust and love. But right now it was the former that ruled. Love? He didn't even want to think about it. Yes, he wanted her. Probably more now than he ever had when they were younger. Forbidden fruit is always sweeter, right? His blood was boiling just beneath the surface; he could feel the painful rise in his pants and willed it to stop. Jesus, Hades was probably cooler than his crotch right now.

He wanted her all those years ago when they were still practically kids. Dammit, he wanted her now. Even though she'd broken his heart and even though the wound still ached sometimes...all the time.

"Are the clothes okay?" Early in the morning, Brady's voice was a raspy grate and it tickled Chloe's ears.

She smiled reassuringly. "They're fine. The right size and everything." Twirling, Brady marvelled at how the soft silk nightgown moulded to every curve of her body. She was trying to torture him, he knew it.

"You slept well?" As he set the plate of steaming pancakes on the table, he finally looked in her direction and then sat down.

"I haven't slept like that," she wanted to say since she left him for a lesser man, but she couldn't; wouldn't do that to him again. "It's been a long time since I slept like that." Talking to him was like walking a tightrope precariously swaying above a crowd of onlookers waiting for her to fall. It never used to be this way. There was a time she could tell him everything. There was a time when she wasn't so afraid of her feelings. Screw it! "I felt safer than I have in a long time, so I guess I should thank you."

Taking the morning paper in his hands, Brady thumbed through the pages looking for the sports section. "Don't thank me, thank your husband. He's the reason we're here."

"But he isn't the reason I felt safe." Looking up for a brief moment, Chloe wasn't sure what emotion she saw swirling in his eyes.

"Do you want the comics? I remember from before, when we... I remembered that you liked to read them."

"Yeah, thank you. I see you made pancakes."

"Help yourself."

With a stab of butter and lots of syrup, Chloe stacked her plate high. This was much to Brady's amusement as he hide behind the thin sheet of newspaper, discreetly watching her. Digging her fork into the fluffy golden circles, she took and enormous bite; didn't care that she let some syrup drizzle from plate to table to her mouth, creating a sticky trail. Letting out an exaggerated mumble of approval, Chloe snapped the paper away from Brady's face where he had been hiding his smirk. When she removed the sports section though, his face was stone and he pretended not to be interested in anything she had been doing. "Mmm Brady, these are from scratch, when did you find the time to learn how to make them?"

"I don't need a lot of sleep." His great shoulders shrugged, tightening all those blessed muscles in his chest. "Some people watch infomercial's, I cook." Ruffling the paper, he pulled it in front of him again. "By the way Chloe, there's this new thing it's called chewing, swallowing then talking, maybe you ought to try it sometime."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." She laughed and was surprised when she thought she heard him stifle his own laughter.

"It feels nice to hear you laugh," he admitted and then instantly regretted it. He'd let down his guard.

"It felt good."

"Do you ever smile anymore?" He sneered, wondering how long she'd been unhappy. Had they, in fact, shared the same distaste for life all these years?

"Do you?" She countered, lifting her perfectly shaped brow in question.

He sighed loudly, returning his eyes to the paper. "I have no reason to."

Clearing her throat, she caught his attention. "Maybe if you weren't so uptight," she teased, trying to break the tension.

"Maybe," he said sarcastically and went back to reading the paper while she ate.

When she'd finished eating, she took her plate to the sink and filled it with water. She started washing the mugs and cups, humming to herself like it was a typical day. Brady watched her from the corner of his eye. Smiled slightly when her hips swayed to a beat in her head. Though they had been apart for years, she seemed the same. Maybe a little more cynical and a lot less happy, but still good natured and the most beautiful and amazing woman he'd ever seen.

"You missed one," he said, coming behind her and placing his coffee mug into the soapy water accidentally brushing her emerged hand. She stood straight, bumping into his chest and he put his hands on her arms to steady her. "Whoa. Relax," he soothed, slowly brushing his fingers down her arms and slightly skimming her hipbone.

She closed her eyes. She couldn't help it. The smell of him, clean and woodsy and the feel of him, strong and powerful, shot through her. She leaned back into his body without thinking.

At first he didn't pull away. He took a generous breath and exhaled slowly, sending tiny, exciting chills down her neck along with his warm, coffee scented breath.

She had to swallow and concentrate on breathing or she would have passed out. "Brady..." she said and it came out as a moan.

His hand locked on her hip and spread over her stomach. "Don't!" All at once, her guard went up and she pushed against him to get away. Winded, she leaned against the counter to brace herself.

"I didn't mean to," he said. There was a long minute of silence before he spoke again. "Or maybe I did." With that, he stormed away, slamming the door behind him.