“He is exactly that.” He poured the last of the wine into our glasses and handed me mine. “I’m concerned about Savannah’s friendship with him.”
“I am, too.” I took a sip. “Still can’t believe she’s giving him back this priceless book. He doesn’t deserve it. But she doesn’t see it that way.”
Briefly, I filled him in on Savannah’s Le Cordon Bleu years in Paris, including my visit and my run-in with Baxter.
Derek was not amused. “For you to work on this book just so Savannah can give it back to him seems a supreme waste of your talents.”
“I don’t mind doing the work, but the thought of her giving it back to Baxter is so annoying, I can barely stand it.”
“You never know,” he said, as he rinsed our empty wineglasses and put them in the dishwasher. “Perhaps something will occur that will change Savannah’s mind.”
“Or maybe Baxter Cromwell will refuse to take it from her.” With a sigh, I switched off the lights and we headed for the bedroom. “If only.”
*
The enticing scent of coffee pulled me out of a deep sleep. I’d had the strangest dream, so I remained under the covers, very still, while I verified that I was in my own house and not in a nightmare high school. I hated nightmare high school dreams. They always ended the same way: naked test taking and teachers turning into giant lizards. Why?
Shaking off the dream, I threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I raced out to the kitchen, hoping Derek hadn’t left for work yet. I found him at the stove, where he was flipping several pieces of bacon.
“Oh, thank you, God,” I whispered.
He turned. “Call me Derek.”
“Ha ha. But since you made bacon, I’ll call you anything you want me to.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and just held on to him for a moment. Right here, I thought. Everything is right here.
“You were dead to the world when I got up,” he said. “I thought you might sleep a while longer.”
“Then you shouldn’t have made coffee. It woke me up.”
“Ah, my mistake.” He rubbed my back, moving his hands slowly up and down my spine. Then he patted my butt. “Get yourself a cup, then, and go sit down. Breakfast will be ready in five minutes.”
But he didn’t let go and it was good to know he seemed to need the connection as much as I did. It was sort of like breathing. For a moment we simply existed together, drawing strength and sustenance from the contact. Soft light filtered in through the kitchen window as time drifted by.
He kissed the top of my head. “Go sit now or we’ll have burned bacon.”
“Can’t have that,” I murmured, but succumbed to one more heated kiss. And now my thoughts were so scattered that I had to take a minute to remember what it was I should be doing. As Derek moved over to the stove, I glanced around the room. Ah, plates. Plates would be useful. I reached into the cupboard for two of them and placed them on either side of the bar where napkins and utensils were already set.
After pouring myself a cup of coffee, I sat on the one stool inside the kitchen and watched Derek work.
“This is a treat,” I remarked. “You’re usually long gone by the time I’m up and drinking coffee.”
“I felt like spending a few extra minutes at home having breakfast with you.” He cracked four eggs into a bowl and whisked them into a froth.
“I’m glad.” I wrapped both hands around my heavy mug and took a slow sip as Derek popped two pieces of bread into the toaster. “So when do you think the construction crew will start tearing the house apart?”
He turned. “Thank you for reminding me. I didn’t want to bring up the subject last night while your sister was here, but we need to talk about that.”
Two months ago, Derek had broached the subject of our living arrangement. I had taken it to mean that he was planning to move out, because that’s how I roll sometimes. But he’d actually been thinking of buying my next-door neighbor’s loft. If I was amenable to it, he’d said. We would tear down some walls and design a much larger place that would be big enough for both of us and our two careers.
“Is there a glitch?” I asked.
“Not exactly, but we now seem to have another choice of plans.”
I swallowed my coffee. “What is it?”
He pointed toward the back of the house. “Our original plan was to break through the back bedroom and make it the master, expand the hallway, enlarge the living space and add two more bedrooms.”
“Right.”
“But now the space directly beneath yours has come onto the market. It’s considerably smaller than this one. One bedroom, one bath, and an office alcove. We could join them by building a wide staircase and balcony along the east wall to create a mezzanine effect. It would add quite a bit of drama, but we wouldn’t be able to expand the size of any of our existing rooms. In fact, it would decrease the square footage of the living room.” He shrugged. “But we’d have an entire suite of rooms to use as guest rooms and office space.”