“I’d be happy to,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “If you tell me a little bit about your space, we can find something you’re comfortable with.”
Alarm bells sounded in the back of Aidan’s mind, warning him that he would have to choose his words carefully unless he wanted to explain why he had the corner office on the top floor of the Celtic Goddess and a high-end condo in a gated community. He shrugged, offering her a boyish smile. “Hey, I’m a guy. Green and hard to kill works for me.”
She laughed, thank goodness, and Aidan felt lighter inside. “Green and easy. I think I can handle that.”
All too soon their walk came to an end. “Well, this is me,” she said, stopping in front of a pretty Cape Cod. Aidan was sure he’d driven along this street – it was too close to O’Leary’s not to – but he never would have recognized it as Mary’s house.
It looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. A white house with decorative trim and dark green shutters. On the left, a big bay window jutted out, showcasing a Christmas tree saturated with lights. At the base, a miniature village consisting of lighted Dickens houses glowed softly atop puffs of snowy white down, creating an idyllic winter wonderland scene. In every other window, single electric candles burned in quiet welcome beneath softly ruffled white curtains.
The front lawn was small but well-landscaped and neat. Everything was frosted in the latest several inches of heavy, wet snow, making Aidan think of a gingerbread house. Old-fashioned carriage style lamps lined the curved stone walkway and hung beside the door.
Aidan could definitely see Mary living here. Like her, it was very understated, but warm and welcoming.
“I know I should take the decorations down,” she said apologetically. “Everyone else does right after New Year’s, but I put if off every year. Putting them up is fun, but taking them down is just kind of depressing, you know?” She blew out a breath. “But I promised myself I’d bite the bullet and do it this weekend.”
Standing there, outside looking in, the silvery gray wisps of clouds amongst an otherwise clear winter night, Aidan felt... something. Mary’s eyes twinkled with the reflection of the lights, her breath creating steamy little puffs of air. And he realized, that in that moment, he’d never wanted to kiss a woman quite so fiercely.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured quietly, forcing his eyes back to the house. “I can understand why you want to keep them up as long as you can.”
It was nice, standing there beside her, looking at the lights. He didn’t feel the cold, and even more importantly, he didn’t feel that nagging ache that had been growing steadily over the past few years. He was more than aware, however, of the woman herself.
She did things to him, things that he didn’t quite understand. Yes, he was physically attracted to her. Despite the fact that she wasn’t striking enough upon first glance to do a double take, she was very beautiful, he realized.
Soft and curvy, feminine in a very natural, basic way, without all of the add-ons. She wore little to no makeup, her hair looked healthy and natural, and her clothes were simple but functional. If it had been anyone else, Aidan was quite sure they’d already be inside, hot and sweaty and naked by now.
But Mary was different. She stoked something more than his desire. He’d been unable to stop thinking about her for an entire week, and that intrigued him more than anything else. He didn’t want to screw it up by overstaying his welcome or pushing too hard. Mary was not one of the sycophants who would let him get away with crap because of his money or power. As far as she knew, he was just a regular guy. He wanted to keep it that way for a little longer.
“Well, I guess I should be going,” he said, though it was the very last thing he wanted to do. He had accomplished what he’d set out to – he had found Mary, even knew where she worked now, which was definitely a bonus. He would be able to recognize her house again, but to be sure, he made a point of glancing at the mailbox and committing the silvery numbers – 227 – to memory.
“Would... would you like to come in for a bit?” she asked hesitantly.
Aidan’s entire train of thought came to a sudden and grinding halt. The smile he gave her was genuine. “I would like that very much, as long as I’m not keeping you from anything.”
“No,” she said with a smile, reaching into her pocket for her keys. “Max and I have a clear schedule tonight.”
He stepped up behind her, not enough to crowd but close enough to block the gusts of wind while she opened the door. Her delicate scent was like ambrosia mixed with the crisp winter air.
Her fingers trembled as she attempted to fit the key into the lock. Was it from the cold, he wondered, or might he hope that she, too, was experiencing the same tingling rush of anticipation as he was?