Scotty hurried up the stairs as quickly as he dared, not wanting to make it painfully obvious that he was fleeing the scene, even though he knew there was no way in hell Kat wouldn’t figure out that that was exactly what he was doing. Bella hadn’t made a sound, he knew that, and Kat knew it; he knew she’d see right through it, knew she’d see it for the pathetic, lame-ass lie it was, but, dammit, that was the best thing he could come up with while his body was shrieking at him to just kiss her, for the love of God, and his brain was screaming, equally loudly, for him to back the hell off and get out of there.

It seemed like it took years for him to reach Bella’s room, and once he was safely within the cocoon of its lavender walls, he closed the door as quietly as he possibly could, then leaned against the back of it, softly thumping his head against the door a few times before finally letting it rest there, the outward stillness belying the fact that, on the inside, every fiber of his being was spinning and churning with thoughts and feelings and hormones and God alone knew what else. For a few seconds, Scotty just stood there, forcing himself to focus for the moment on simply catching his breath and slowing his frantically pounding heart. He desperately wanted to think all that was just from his sprint up the stairs, but he knew better. His body was making that abundantly clear.

The raging flood of desire had come upon him suddenly, without even a hint of warning. One minute, he was quietly reminiscing with the mother of his child about the most magical day of his entire life, and the next thing he knew, his arms were wrapped around her, his lips were a hair’s width away from hers, his eyes were falling closed, every nerve, every inch, every cell of his body was tingling in anticipation…and he knew down to the marrow of his bones that if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn’t be hiding out in Bella’s room like the coward he’d suddenly become. No, he’d still be down there, absolutely devouring her, gently lowering her to the sofa, slipping his hand beneath her shirt…

And that was why he’d fled. Because he wanted to kiss her so badly he couldn’t see straight, and it had caught him so off-guard that he didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that way toward her, of course…but that time, he’d had alcohol to blame for both the desire and the lack of inhibitions. They both had. But this night, they hadn’t had so much as a drop to drink. Just a damn pint of Chunky Monkey. So, to his chagrin, Scotty realized that he couldn’t blame his sudden overwhelming urge to kiss Kat, and do a whole lot more, on booze. Not tonight. Not this time.

Oh, for God’s sake, Valens, his brain reminded him, that was the last time you got laid. Hell, that was three years ago. Three very, very long years. You’re wastin’ the prime of your life, here. You gotta get back in the saddle.

Yes. That was it. That had to be it. Biology was conspiring against him. His libido had been very patient with him, really, waiting three years for him to get being a responsible dad out of his system, but now, now that Bella wasn’t a baby anymore, now that there really wasn’t any compelling reason for him to spend every single evening at home watching Dora videos with a toddler, it was gently…well, okay, not so gently, he amended…reminding him that it was high time he did something about it. He needed to get out there. Get back in the game. Get laid, for God’s sake.

A stolen glance at the silver-framed clock above his daughter’s bed told Scotty that it was barely ten-thirty, plenty of time for him to shower, change, and get the hell out of there, to go to some bar, some club, somewhere, dammit, and just grab a woman. Any woman. Didn’t matter who. He’d never been much for random, indiscriminate sex; not once had he strayed from Elisa’s bed in the decade and a half they were together, and even after that, for the most part, anyway, he’d at least been acquainted with the women he slept with. But now, he was desperate. Desperate to just get some, and, even more importantly, desperate to prove that he wasn’t into his roommate. Because that idea…the idea that he might be…that scared him most of all.

His hand was on the doorknob, the voice of his libido urging him onward…but he suddenly couldn’t move a muscle, so he just stood there, frozen to the spot, the cold metal cooling his burning skin and jolting him back to reality. Random sex with someone he didn’t even know might take the edge off his physical needs, he conceded…but whoever she was, no matter how leggy and busty and stunningly gorgeous she was…she wouldn’t have those soulful coffee-colored eyes. She wouldn’t have that rich, creamy skin that reminded him of a really good cup of hot chocolate. She wouldn’t have that gorgeous smile, that musical laugh, that way of making him feel so ridiculously content and happy and at peace with the world. She wouldn’t know him inside and out, wouldn’t know how to call him on his bullshit, wouldn’t be the mother of his child.

She wouldn’t be Kat Miller.

Son of a bitch.

Eyes suddenly wide with panic, Scotty yanked his hand off the doorknob as though it was on fire, turned back around, thumped his head against the door a couple more times, and then slid down it until he was sitting on the floor, the conclusion he’d just reached terrifying him beyond anything he’d previously imagined. As intensely as his body wanted him to kiss her, Scotty realized……his heart wanted it even more.

Alcohol wasn’t to blame this time, nor did he have the exhausted euphoria of a new baby to use as an excuse. He also realized, to his complete horror, that he hadn’t been reeled in by her vulnerability, either. Hadn’t been lassoed by wide, trusting eyes practically begging him to stay. Nope. Not this time. Kat wasn’t asking him for anything. She didn’t need him for anything. There was no crisis, no drama…there was just him, just her, just them. All she was doing was looking at him, but the expression in her deep brown eyes had taken his breath away. There wasn’t anything reflected in their infinite depths except…her. No pleading vulnerability or practiced bravado, just her. Her purest, truest self, that raw, intimate part of her that she didn’t let anyone else see…and that was why he’d wanted to kiss her so badly. Not because he was sex-deprived or drunk or being the hero…he was just him, and she was just her…

…and, goddammit, Lilly was right, he realized, with another soft thunk of his head against the door. There was something going on.

And that sent a panic like he’d never known shooting through his veins.

This, this thing with Kat, was the most perfect thing he’d ever been a part of. It certainly wasn’t always easy…often, far from it. Kat Miller was stubborn and closed-off and pig-headed…but she let him into places in her soul he suspected nobody else even knew about. He knew her, inside and out, knew things about her no one else did…and she knew him just as well. She called him on his crap, tore away his own self-protective layers, exposed him for who he really was…and yet, somehow, made him completely comfortable with it. The long conversations he and Kat had, the nights he spent on the couch with her and Veronica and Bella watching Disney movies or Dora videos, the times he spent tickling Bella until she shrieked and laughed like a miniature version of her mother, those all-too-rare nights they sat down to dinner as a family…that was what he’d been searching for. That was what he’d wanted with Elisa, that was what they’d dreamed of together. That was what he’d mourned after her death almost as much as he’d mourned her. He’d lost Elisa, his best friend, his soul mate, the love of his life, and he missed her desperately…but he also mourned the death of the dreams they’d had. Their dreams of marriage and kids and a family.

Scotty remembered how furious he’d been with himself the day Kat told him she was pregnant, how he’d driven to the bridge where Elisa had ended her life and stared into the brackish water that had claimed her, fighting the truth with everything he had, and being engulfed in helpless agony that it hadn’t turned out the way it had been supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to be getting drunk and sleeping with his co-worker, he wasn’t supposed to be using her to fill the gaping hole that Elisa had left in his life…

…and yet that was exactly what Kat had done, he realized. Slowly. Gradually. Unintentionally. That was why he’d been so happy, so fulfilled. His dreams had come true. Not with the person he thought they would, and they didn’t look anything like he’d imagined…but here he was. He had a family. A family with someone he loved. Not the irreplaceable Elisa, but someone he loved nonetheless. Granted, he wasn’t entirely sure what form that love was taking, and he was beginning to suspect it had more layers to it than he ever thought possible…but he had a family with someone he loved.

Well, no wonder he’d been so content without having so much as coffee with another woman. No wonder it hadn’t even occurred to him to flirt with anyone else for over three years. Because he was satisfied, on almost every level, in a way he’d never been before in his entire life.

Which was why this was scaring the hell out of him. Lilly was right. There was something going on: the most beautiful something he could possibly imagine. And, Scotty realized cynically, knowing him, he’d inevitably screw it up. He’d take this beautiful something and crush it underfoot until it was barely recognizable. If he made a move, if he did anything, if he rocked the boat even slightly…it would hurt not one, not two, but three people he cared about. Not to mention himself, but he didn’t care about that nearly as much. He’d dealt with pain before, and he could deal with it again. If Kat didn’t want anything more than what they had, then, yeah, it’d hurt for a while, but there was no way in hell he’d let that change anything. He wouldn’t move out. He wouldn’t abandon Kat, or Bella, or even V, just for what he was sure was a momentary crush.

Oh, get real, Valens, his brain scolded him, shattering the tentative conclusion he’d just reached. No way was this a crush…at least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. Oh, he wished that was all it was. Crushes he could deal with. They came, they went, and two weeks from now, he might not be willing to give anything, anything at all, for another take on that couch, another chance to relive that memory, another chance to kiss her like he’d never kissed anyone in his life, to wind his tongue around hers and stroke the back of her neck and make her moan with pleasure and dig her fingers into his shoulders like she had that night, to make her---Stop it, for God’s sake! his brain ordered explosively. Are you out of your mind?

He had to be. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You sure about that, Valens? his brain prodded him, and he was even more disturbed by the fact that, for the moment, anyway, it seemed to be using Lilly’s voice than he was by what it was suggesting. But, as he calmed down enough to think logically, he realized that, no, he wasn’t out of his mind. Not entirely. Not in suddenly realizing how attached he’d become to the mother of his child. But it wasn’t just because of that. No, Scotty discovered, he’d be attached to Kat whether they had that bond or not. Bella certainly didn’t hurt anything, of course, she’d been the one who brought them together…but he wondered if maybe, eventually, it might have happened anyway. It was pointless to speculate, though, because things had happened the way they had.

And what…exactly…was happening? Did Kat feel the same way about him…however it was that he felt? Had she wanted to kiss him as badly as he’d wanted to kiss her? Was it for the same reasons? Was she somewhere right now, every bit as terrified and desperate and confused as he was?

They had to talk about this, he concluded. They’d been happily going about their business for years, happily sleeping in the same bed, spending almost every evening together with the kids, raising Bella…had they been deluding themselves? What, exactly, was this? Was it love? Was it friendship? Was it a curious mixture of both? What the hell was going on? Even more powerful than Scotty’s desire to not rock the boat, he realized with chagrin, was his desire…no…his need…to figure out what exactly was going on with Kat. And if the boat rocked…so be it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Scotty was creeping silently out of Bella’s room and back down the stairs, back to the scene of the crime, back to the couch where he’d come close to doing the very thing that they’d done to start this …whatever this was. Just the sight of the couch, he realized, that same damned overstuffed brown couch where they’d ravaged each other that drunken night over three years ago, made him feel that long-denied tingle of desire…but he knew in a heartbeat, before he even got a clear view, that Kat wasn’t there. Not that he could blame her. After he’d run up the stairs like the living room was on fire, where the hell did he expect her to be? Still sitting on the couch, her eyes closed, frozen in time, waiting for him to come back down there and finish what they’d almost started? No. Of course not.

And she wasn’t. The lights were off, the pint of Chunky Monkey they’d been sharing, along with the spoons, were nowhere to be seen, the off-white blanket they’d been snuggled under had been neatly folded and placed on the back of the sofa, the photo album was back in its customary place on the shelf…yes, Kat was long gone.

So where was she? Had she fled the premises completely? Frankly, he wouldn’t blame her. Scotty knew that if he’d been in her shoes, if he’d been jumped by his roommate after an innocent day of reminiscing, he’d already be at the airport, passport in hand, hopping on the first flight he could get on that would take him somewhere, anywhere, and the further away, the better. If another planet were possible, he’d be choosing that option. Because as terrified as he was of screwing things up, Scotty realized, she had to be even more so. No way in hell she wasn’t. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t impulsive. She didn’t throw caution to the wind. She didn’t let her whims dictate what she did. Oh, he didn’t either, not as much, not since Bella…he couldn’t. He had someone else to think about. But she had a decade more experience with parenting than he did, with being responsible, with realizing that she had a hell of a lot more to think about than just herself.

Which was why he was so damn terrified, and why he was sure she must be, too. That kiss…well, okay, almost-kiss…it could have dire consequences. And yet, the fact that it had happened, the fact that they weren’t drunk or flying high on the euphoria of bringing a child into the world or needing anything in the world other than that brief moment of contact…that moment that might not have been so brief, if Scotty had given in to what every atom of his body was screaming for him to do…that warranted a conversation, at least.

After searching the downstairs and finding no trace of her, Scotty paused at the window, glancing out to the moonlit street, the bricks still shining from the rain that had fallen earlier, and was relieved to see that her dark blue Jeep was still in its customary parking spot right outside the front door. But that didn’t mean she was still there, he realized, with a sinking heart. She could’ve taken the train, he supposed, or she could’ve left on foot…

Well, wherever Kat was, she was making it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him. Not tonight anyway. And he couldn’t blame her. Not at all.

Reluctantly, he switched off the lights and trudged up the stairs, stopping to peek in on Veronica and Bella to make sure they were both sleeping peacefully, which they were, thank God. At least the girls were oblivious to the drama that was unfolding under their roof.

With a sigh, he approached the bedroom he’d shared with Kat since Bella was born, turned on the light…

…and, with a whispered curse, hastily switched it back off when he realized that Kat was already in bed. She didn’t even stir, thank God, and Scotty breathed a shaky sigh of relief. If she was still home, and asleep, it meant that, perhaps, she wasn’t as freaked out by what had happened…well, almost happened…as he was. She was sleeping quite contentedly, it seemed, and he frankly envied her.

Forcing his still-seething emotions to calm down, he disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for bed, then stepped back out to the bedroom and started to turn back the covers on his side. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t sleep a wink, but he supposed he should at least try. However, as he pulled back the blankets, his eyes fell on Kat’s sleeping form, and he simply couldn’t tear them away. Illuminated by the pale light of the moon, her hair was fanned out over the pillow, her breathing was deep and even, her long lashes fluttered against her silken cheek, the blankets accentuated the gentle sweep of her hips…good God, she was beautiful. How had he never noticed this before? Well, okay, he had, he realized, three years ago…but he’d been drunk at the time. Now, however…now, he was stone-cold sober, and she was asleep…and she was beautiful. So beautiful he felt tears stinging his eyes.

Scotty slid into bed slowly, gingerly, not wanting to disturb Kat in the slightest. That talk they had to have could wait until tomorrow. He didn’t have a clue what he wanted to say, anyway. While brushing his teeth, he’d briefly entertained the irrational hope that perhaps seeing her again, being in the same room with her, getting some distance between himself and that moment earlier, would chase away the thoughts he’d had, the things he wanted to do to her, the things he’d felt on that damn couch…but he was wrong. Dead wrong. So dead wrong, in fact, that, despite his brain shrieking at him that this was the worst idea in the history of the world, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning over and kissing her cheek. Softly. Innocently. Just a friendly little kiss. Surely he could allow himself that much. Maybe just that tiny bit of contact would dispel everything, would make him realize that he was imagining things, that it was just a fleeting crush, that he was making a mountain out of a molehill…

…or not, he amended, as he had to fight with every fiber of his being to keep the kiss innocent and friendly. He had to tear his lips away from her smooth mocha skin, or else they would have been eagerly exploring the rest of her face, her neck, the little bit of her shoulder that peeked out from that oversized blue T-shirt she always slept in…

Scotty finally realized, as he managed to stop kissing Kat, that he couldn’t trust himself in bed with her. Not tonight. Not when the mere idea of being that close to her sent the molten heat of desire spiraling throughout his entire body. He cast one long, lingering look at her, then, before his libido could make yet another stupid decision for him, he grabbed a pillow and hurried out, creeping down the stairs to spend the night on the futon in the den.

Lilly was right. There was definitely something going on. And they had to have that talk.