Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Miranda’s fingers stilled on the keys and she looked up - staring off into the air as she waited.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

“Declan.”

Looking over at the woman sitting at his desk, Declan Dunn was the picture of innocence which was belied only by the rubber ball in one hand. “What?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop bouncing that ball off the ceiling.” Her gaze landed on his face and, though only he could see it, softened - a sparkle entering her eyes. “It’s distracting.”

Pointing at the laptop, she reined in the smile at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Paper!”

Declan grinned impishly. “No, Miranda, *that* is a laptop.”

Rolling her eyes, she gestured at the laptop again. “Declan, I have a paper to finish, I’m almost done, I need quiet!”

“Then quiet you shall have!” He proclaimed, tossing the ball aside and cradling his head in his interlaced hands. “I’m not sayin’ another word until you say you’re done.”

“Thank you.” Miranda flashed a small smile and lowered her gaze to the laptop screen as she began to type once more.

Declan held to his word as best he could. Several moments passed where the only sounds in the office consisted of Miranda’s typing and their breathing then Declan shifted on the couch, sighing.

The slim woman sitting at the desk glanced up but the man before her appeared to be fast asleep.

Though suspicious, she shrugged it off and returned to her work. It was a subject that required fairly focused concentration and that was something Miranda was a master at. A few seconds was all it took for her to become completely absorbed in her work.

It was the moment Declan was waiting for. Knowing Miranda like he did, he’d been expecting it. He also knew she had plenty of time to finish that paper but, in typical Miranda-fashion, was intent on doing it *now*. And, in typical Declan-fashion, he was intent on teaching her to have a little fun.

It was how the dynamic of their relationship, the friendship and the romance, worked. Miranda was the one who kept him grounded and he was the one who taught her how to dream. Or as Miranda succinctly put it, she was the realist and he was the dreamer.

After easing himself slowly off the couch, Declan inched around behind her and, for a few moments, he just stood behind her: watching her work. He liked moments like these . . . when he got the chance to watch Miranda being Miranda. Her mind so focused on her work, he could almost see the ideas moving fluidly through that quicksilver mind of hers.

Sometimes, it amazed him to watch her in action. Others it scared him. The only thing Declan was sure of was that he’d definitely gotten on the Big Kahuna’s good side to deserve Miranda in his life.

Smiling, he reached out to lightly run his fingers down over her glossy dark hair.

Beautiful . . .

“Declan . . . ” Miranda lifted the aforementioned head at the touch. She’d been right. He was up to something. Carefully she hid a smile as she resigned herself to the fact the paper was going to have to wait - though she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. It was much too much fun to make him suffer.

“Yes . . . ” He replied in the same tone she’d used, deliberately drawing out the one word response.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching your hair.” A wicked glint appeared in his eyes.

“Why are you touching my hair?”

“Because I like it.” Reaching out, he stroked his fingertips over the silky strands again. “Feels nice, soft.”

“Thank you.” Her voice quiet, suffused with warmth brought from both the compliment and his proximity. “But . . . ”

“I know, I know.” With an amiable chuckle, the anthropologist turned to browse through his books while she returned to the computer.

Five minutes hadn’t passed before he was leaning over her shoulder, apparently interested in her paper.

Enjoying the little game, Miranda kept her gaze on the screen and the steady rhythm of her fingers didn’t slack. If he wanted to distract her, Declan was going to have to work at it.

Inhaling the faint scent of her perfume, he rested his chin against her shoulder. “It looks good.”

“Mmmhmmm . . . ”

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Uh uh.”

“Good.”

And so he remained, leaning over her shoulder, for a while until, to her amused surprise, Miranda felt a hand slide across the smooth material of her shirt, coming to stop on her midsection.

“Declan . . . ”

“Yes, Miranda?”

“What are you doing?”

“Watching you type.”

She looked meaningfully at the hand on her midsection then back at him. “Ok, then what is your hand doing?”

“It’s just there.” Declan replied with a grin.

“Uh huh.”

At her look, he put on an expression of pure innocence. “What? It is!”

“Behave, Declan.” She instructed with a ‘stern’ look.

“I’m behaving!” he protested, mischief lurking in his eyes.

“No,” A shake of her head accompanied her words. “You’re deliberately trying to distract me.” She smiled despite the accusation. “Admit it.”

“Maybe . . . ” He singsonged, rocking on his heels slightly, feeling decidedly mischievous.

She slanted a glance over her shoulder at him. “Yes.”

He grinned. “You need to relax Miranda; take a day off and have some fun. Just cut loose.”

“Declan,” She was the epitome of patience. “I need to finish my paper.”

The anthropologist shook his head and reached down to pull her to her feet. “No, you need to have *fun*, with me.” She didn’t resist as he tugged her closer, molding her slim curves against his more solid, stockier form. “We’ve been too busy lately . . . I miss you.” Putting on his best ‘pleading little boy’ face, he wheedled. “Please . . . ”

She was waving, he could see the indecision on her face, it wouldn’t take much more.

Leaning forward, he skimmed his lips along her cheek and felt her lashes brush against his as she closed her eyes, her breath quickening.

“Declan . . . ” Her voice was thick and he smiled in triumph. He had her.

“One day, Miranda, just cut loose for one day . . . ok?”

“Ok.” She echoed absently, resting her head against his, thoroughly befuddled by his actions.

“Good.” Taking her by the hand, he grabbed their jackets. “Let’s go . . . ”

Before she could react, he tugged her out the door.

 

Not mine. Not even close.

 

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