“Then I shall do my best to rekindle it.” His expression relaxed into a grin. “If you’ll permit me?”
“I suppose…” I tilted my head and studied him, letting my eyes roam, appreciating his masculine beauty in the candlelight. “I might be persuaded.”
“Shall I continue courting you?” He smiled, and rising from his chair, he stepped towards me.
“Oh, I don’t know, that might be getting tedious. I got quite a lot of poetic texts this week—nearly enough to publish a chapbook. I’m thinking of calling it Sexts from the Professor.” I turned in my seat, facing him, and slid one high-heeled foot up the back of his calf.
“Minx.” He laughed. “I haven’t begun to court you.”
“Please, no more poetry. I can’t take any more.” I laid the back of my hand over my forehead and feigned exhaustion.
“Let’s see,” he said, capturing my hand and holding it in both of his. “I’ve done flowers, and gifts. I’ve bought you dinner twice now, and—”
“Poetry, don’t forget the poetry.”
“And poetry, we’ve covered that rather thoroughly as you’ve pointed out.” He patted my hand. “That leaves, chocolate and dancing, I believe.”
“Chocolate and dancing?” I sat up in my chair. “I like both of those.”
“Then come with me.” He pulled on my hand and I stood up, my body brushing up the hard column of his torso as I rose.
His arms circled my waist and he pulled me to him roughly, his lips slanted over mine, kissing me deeply, desperately.
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes searching mine.
“For what?” I whispered.
“For being you.” He smiled. “Now, come with me, for I know where there is chocolate.”
* * *
We raced down the hallway together, bare feet slapping and high heels clicking as we skidded around the bend into the kitchen.
“Holy crap!” I said.
“Indeed.”
“Nothing should surprise me about this house at this point, but Jesus, it’s just like, one epically stunning room after another, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he agreed. His voice was muffled and I looked over to see his body half buried in the huge refrigerator. He emerged, a white ceramic dish in his hands.
“Will you get the oven door?” he said, nodding at a bank of four doors to the right of me.
“Sure.” I pulled open the door of the only oven that was lit and obviously prepped for some purpose. “What’s that?”
“This,” he said, setting the dish on the oven shelf gingerly, “is Chef’s chocolate soufflé.”
“Oh, wow.” I peered in the oven window after he shut the door. “Neat. I’ve never watched a soufflé’ baking before.”
“And you won’t be now,” he said, laughing. “I promised dancing.”
We raced down the hallway again, stopping halfway on our way back to the dining room for Thomas to lift me, and carry me the rest of the way, since my high heels made it hard for me to keep pace. We were breathless and giggling when we arrived. Thomas sat me down and turned to a control unit on the wall to press a few buttons.
“What’s your fancy?” he asked. “Classical? Jazz? Latin? Easy Guitar? Whatever that means.”
“Easy Guitar.”
“Got it,” he said as music began playing. He walked to the French doors and threw them open, connecting our rainarium to the larger dining room. I followed him, watching as he knelt on the benches and vigorously turned handles attached to the windowpanes. They canted at his efforts, opening to the night air, a cool wet mist wafting in from the rainstorm.
He moved to the table, cleared it of our wine glasses, and set the candles on the sideboard, then folded the table itself and tucked it to the side of the room. He held out his hand to me and smiled.
I took it and he pulled me to him, tucking my hand in his, just under his chin, as his other arm circled my waist, strong and warm.
“Dancing,” he said, arching a brow playfully. He stepped into me, and I stepped back, just as slow and sexy guitar music began playing on the speakers.
His hips pressed into mine as he led us around the room, his feet never missing a step.
“You can dance!” I said, delighted.
“I can.” He unfurled our bodies, twirled me, then snapped me back to his arms. “Pricey English educations include dancing instruction.”
“I’m impressed,” I said as we glided. “Are you secretly James Bond or something?”