Excerpt of Stirring Up Trouble by Kimberly Kincaid

A question poked at Gavin's conscience, getting
increasingly louder until he finally gave it a voice.
“Look…don’t take this the wrong way, but this is over
three weeks’ worth of work. I’ve got to ask, how much
help did you give Bree, exactly?”
Sloane made a less-than-dainty sound and rolled her eyes.
“I already passed eighth-grade English, and I’m not
exactly eager to do any of the writing on my own again.
Bree busted her butt, I assure you.” She started to wad
up the discarded pages at her feet, muttering a low oath
as the ball got big enough to exceed her hand.

Okay, so that had come out more accusatory than he’d
intended. He knelt to help her collect the crumpled
pages. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you did it for
her.”

“Sure you did. But like I said, you don’t have to worry.
I helped her, but only as much as she’d let me. Once we
got started, she really did most of it without even
talking to me.”

Now there was something he could relate to. “Yeah, that
sounds like her.” The ache in his bones migrated to
include everything beneath his sternum, and Gavin let out
a tired exhale. He reached for the last scrap of paper at
the exact moment Sloane did. Unable to change his course
of movement without making contact, his fingertips
brushed against the top of her hand as she closed a fist
over the page, and the sheer heat of her skin under his
hand registered in a jolt.

“Whoops, sorry.” He withdrew his hand and looked up, only
to discover his face about six inches from a pair of
heart-shaped lips, parted in a look of surprise. “I
didn’t mean to…” A quick gesture to her hand completed
the sentence. Her skin was so soft, like a stretch of
perfectly golden caramel, warm and sweet and utterly
decadent.

For a hot, impulsive moment, he wondered if she tasted
the way she looked.

“No biggie,” she murmured, not moving her eyes from his.

Up close in the soft lamp light, they looked even
prettier, kind of a cross between a summer sky and
gathering storm clouds, and the juxtaposition caught him
square in the chest. His left knee pressed against her
right thigh from when they’d both knelt down on the
floorboards, and even through the wool and denim, heat
coursed from her body in waves.

He meant to lean back, to correct the mistake of
accidentally invading her space and just let her go.
Gavin commanded himself to move, to say good night, and
give her enough room to walk out the door.

But instead, he kissed her."