“Amber. Is that her name?” she asks, a marked bite to her frigid voice.
“Yes, that’s her name. I told her to come before I knew you’d be here.”
“And you didn’t think even once to, oh, I don’t know, maybe call and tell her not to?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think about her one time from the moment I saw you in the bathtub yesterday.”
That stops her. I can see it in the way her brow furrows and her full lips purse. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“I don’t know. Why do you? You’re incredibly stunning, smart, funny. I seem to remember listing these things off last night, but if you didn’t believe I was sincere, I’m happy to continue.”
The sun slicing through the trees illuminates her eyes behind the reflective glass. I can see that she’s softening, but I wish she’d take them off. I want to see the color. That exotic violet blue visited me in my dreams last night. I want to see if they’re the same brilliant color I remember them being, if the morning can do my memory justice.
She drops her book to her lap and gives me her full attention. “Do you make a habit of leaving the doors unlocked and telling people to just come on in?”
I shrug. “We’re way up here with no one else around for miles. Why not?”
“Well, I can think of several reasons.”
“If it makes you more comfortable, I can start locking them at night.”
“It would, thank you. And maybe if you’d have your guests arrive at a decent hour.”
My lips want to curve, but I keep them straight and steady. “Absolutely. Anything else?”
“You might tell her that any self-respecting woman doesn’t make two a.m. booty calls.”
This time, I let my grin break free. “I’ll be sure to pass that along if I ever see her again.”
“Don’t stop on my account. It’s none of my business who you see.”
“It is if you want it to be. In fact, I’d like for it to be your business.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re the type of woman who wants a man’s undivided attention and I’d love nothing more than to give it to you.”
She shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t think—”
“I thought you were letting go, not thinking.”
“That was before I met Amber.”
“Don’t give Amber another thought. I promise you that I won’t.”
Her frown gets deeper as she thinks. As she fights giving in. She wants to, I think, but she’s torn. I just need to batter away at her resistance until we can get back to where we were last night when she was taunting me with peeks of her delicious ass bathed in moonlight. I didn’t want to press her too soon last night. This is new for her. I get it. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t, too, considering that Amber showed up a short time later. But still, it’s hard for me not to regret letting her get back into her bed. Alone.
Amber was more than happy to help me work off my fascination, but I wasn’t interested. I had no trouble telling her no and sending her on her way. If I thought about that very much, it might worry me. That’s not like me. But right now all I’m thinking about is the delectable, enchanting woman in front of me.
“She is gone, isn’t she?” she asks dryly.
“I asked her to leave about five seconds after she showed up in my doorway. I was really hoping it’d be you and when I saw that it wasn’t . . .”
“Why would you think I’d be showing up in your bedroom at two in the morning?”
“Wishful thinking, I guess. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked in that silky little thing you sleep in.”
Her lips part, her cheeks stain. “Well I can assure you that I won’t be showing up at your bedroom door anytime soon.”
“I can wait.”
I can tell when she straightens in her chair that she’s getting ready to argue—just for the sake of her pride, of course—so I quickly change the subject. “How about a taste of a new grape I’m trying? They’re Blanc du Bois.”
“Isn’t it a little early for wine?”
I straighten and hold out my hand as I smile down at her. “It’s never too early for wine.”
“You sound like my father,” she says, closing her book and sliding her fingers over my palm.
“I sound like a winemaker.”
“That you do.”
SEVEN
Weatherly