Andrea reached for a glass of water, trying to quiet the riot in her chest. Michael had pulled away, but his laugh still lingered in the air, filling the kitchen with something dangerous, something she shouldn’t crave.
“Alright,” Andrea said, squaring her shoulders. “If you’re going to hover around here all night, we need rules.”
Michael arched an eyebrow. “Rules?”
“Yes.” She took a sip, then set the glass down with deliberate calm. “House rules. Otherwise, I’ll never get anything done.”
He leaned against the island, arms folded. “And what exactly are these rules?”
Andrea tapped her finger against her chin, eyes narrowing theatrically. “Hmm. First rule: no more smug staring.”
Michael smirked. “Impossible. That’s half my personality.”
“Fine.” She waved a hand. “Then you’ll owe me a f
