with a whisper-soft naivete that matched her little-girl dress.
It shouldn’t have mattered to him that she was skittish and trembling. He shouldn’t have felt so pleased she was turned on. After all, he’d come for himself, not her. As always. And, as always, he’d remembered to bring something because women liked presents. “Here,” he said, mounting the stairs, holding out his hand.
He came to rest beside her a moment later, and she saw a small cabochon emerald suspended from a slender braided gold chain lying on his open palm.
“Sorry, it’s not something better.” He shrugged. “There aren’t any shops open this time of night except 7-Eleven. I used these in a promotion once.”
Nice promotion , she thought, recognizing Bulgari. “You didn’t have to—but thanks.” She lifted the necklace from his palm. “I’ll think of you when I wear it.”
A small silence fell, the sounds of crickets and frogs suddenly shrill in the night.
Fuck it, he thought. This wasn’t business as usual; he might as well be honest. “I tried to stay away,” he said. “And yet . . .”
She nodded. “I know. I couldn’t sleep because of you.”
His smile suddenly flashed white in the moonlight. “Glad to hear it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I like feeling this way.”
His smile this time was sexy and sweet; they were both on the same crazy wavelength. “Maybe I could make you feel better,” he said soft and low.
She gazed up at him from under her lashes. “No doubt.”
He grinned. “I’ll have you know I broke all the speed limits getting here.”
“So I should stop equivocating.”
He held her gaze. “I didn’t know you were.”
“But then you don’t know much about me.”
“How about I’m willing to learn.”
“You’re way too smooth.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve never raced to see a woman in the middle of the night.”
“So I’m not the only one losing it.”
“Hell, no. I’ve been trying not to call you since I woke up”—he glanced at his watch—“five hours ago. Unsuccessfully, as you can see.”
She smiled for the first time since his arrival. “We have to be quiet with Janie and Matt in the house.”
He grinned. “I’m not the one who screams when they come.”
“Very funny.”
“Look—they won’t even know I’m here.” He took her hand in his. “Show me your bedroom.”
“I thought you might have been calling to talk to Janie,” she noted as he held the door open for her.
“I told you I wasn’t interested in Janie.”
“I know.”
“I meant it.”
“I’m glad.”
Then she put her finger to her lips as they approached the stairs, and they didn’t speak again until she shut her bedroom door behind them.
“Nice,” he said, indicating her room with a wave of his hand. “Everything in one place.”
She had a small office in one corner: desk, computer, file cabinet, bulletin board with wine brochures and catalogues tacked up. Under the farmhouse eaves, she’d had bookshelves built, crowded now with to-read possibilities. A row of blooming white gloxinia lined the top of the shelves. Embroidered white-on-white linen curtains were open, the windows raised high to let in the warm night air.
And then there was her bed.
She’d found it in an antique store shortly after she’d bought her place. She hadn’t been looking for a bed. She’d already bought a serviceable one that would do just fine. In fact, the only reason she’d gone into the store along the highway in Wisconsin was because the sign outside had heralded Lavazza espresso. Now, she wasn’t into psychic events, but seeing that bed smack-dab in the middle of the store when she walked in qualified as a bona fide mystical experience. She’d immediately fallen in love with it. The enormous size and flamboyant scrollwork of twined branches and delicate leaves reminded her of some whimsical fantasy.
She’d asked the price
It shouldn’t have mattered to him that she was skittish and trembling. He shouldn’t have felt so pleased she was turned on. After all, he’d come for himself, not her. As always. And, as always, he’d remembered to bring something because women liked presents. “Here,” he said, mounting the stairs, holding out his hand.
He came to rest beside her a moment later, and she saw a small cabochon emerald suspended from a slender braided gold chain lying on his open palm.
“Sorry, it’s not something better.” He shrugged. “There aren’t any shops open this time of night except 7-Eleven. I used these in a promotion once.”
Nice promotion , she thought, recognizing Bulgari. “You didn’t have to—but thanks.” She lifted the necklace from his palm. “I’ll think of you when I wear it.”
A small silence fell, the sounds of crickets and frogs suddenly shrill in the night.
Fuck it, he thought. This wasn’t business as usual; he might as well be honest. “I tried to stay away,” he said. “And yet . . .”
She nodded. “I know. I couldn’t sleep because of you.”
His smile suddenly flashed white in the moonlight. “Glad to hear it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I like feeling this way.”
His smile this time was sexy and sweet; they were both on the same crazy wavelength. “Maybe I could make you feel better,” he said soft and low.
She gazed up at him from under her lashes. “No doubt.”
He grinned. “I’ll have you know I broke all the speed limits getting here.”
“So I should stop equivocating.”
He held her gaze. “I didn’t know you were.”
“But then you don’t know much about me.”
“How about I’m willing to learn.”
“You’re way too smooth.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve never raced to see a woman in the middle of the night.”
“So I’m not the only one losing it.”
“Hell, no. I’ve been trying not to call you since I woke up”—he glanced at his watch—“five hours ago. Unsuccessfully, as you can see.”
She smiled for the first time since his arrival. “We have to be quiet with Janie and Matt in the house.”
He grinned. “I’m not the one who screams when they come.”
“Very funny.”
“Look—they won’t even know I’m here.” He took her hand in his. “Show me your bedroom.”
“I thought you might have been calling to talk to Janie,” she noted as he held the door open for her.
“I told you I wasn’t interested in Janie.”
“I know.”
“I meant it.”
“I’m glad.”
Then she put her finger to her lips as they approached the stairs, and they didn’t speak again until she shut her bedroom door behind them.
“Nice,” he said, indicating her room with a wave of his hand. “Everything in one place.”
She had a small office in one corner: desk, computer, file cabinet, bulletin board with wine brochures and catalogues tacked up. Under the farmhouse eaves, she’d had bookshelves built, crowded now with to-read possibilities. A row of blooming white gloxinia lined the top of the shelves. Embroidered white-on-white linen curtains were open, the windows raised high to let in the warm night air.
And then there was her bed.
She’d found it in an antique store shortly after she’d bought her place. She hadn’t been looking for a bed. She’d already bought a serviceable one that would do just fine. In fact, the only reason she’d gone into the store along the highway in Wisconsin was because the sign outside had heralded Lavazza espresso. Now, she wasn’t into psychic events, but seeing that bed smack-dab in the middle of the store when she walked in qualified as a bona fide mystical experience. She’d immediately fallen in love with it. The enormous size and flamboyant scrollwork of twined branches and delicate leaves reminded her of some whimsical fantasy.
She’d asked the price
Similar Books
