“Just tell me if you’re still with him,” he said, his breath hot on the back of her neck. His lips were so close, she would only have to lean back a little to feel them press against her hot skin.
“Why does it matter?” she whispered.
“It just does.”
She turned around in the tiny space, arching her back to lean against the elevator wall as she faced him. “Why, Cam?”
He grunted softly, his eyes darkening to onyx. “Tell me.”
She deliberately wetted her lips with her tongue, then pursed them together.
His breath hitched and his nostrils flared, so it surprised her when he pressed on with his line of questioning instead of reaching for her. But his voice was strangled as he demanded roughly, “Tell me.”
She stared at his lips as he spoke, then slid her eyes up to his, and all her sassy teasing took flight. The naked longing in his eyes—the pleading hope that struck a chord in her heart because she felt the same emotions coursing through her own body—made it impossible for her to cheapen his question with more flirtation or answer it with anything but honesty.
“Shane and I aren’t together anymore.”
His eyes fluttered with pleasure as he exhaled a long sigh. He opened his green eyes and grinned at her wickedly. “Thank God.”
***
An hour later they were sitting across from each other at Margaret’s dining room table, empty takeout containers between them, but for the one that Margaret held in her hand, eating one grain of rice at a time with wooden chopsticks.
After their charged exchange in the elevator, they’d somehow managed to segue to a pleasant conversation about the various restaurants in the area, and Margaret had schooled him a little on the Cabernet they were drinking. His relief at discovering that she and Olson were over was enormous and palpable, but he still didn’t know what exactly he was going to do about it.
Did he want Margaret? Of course. He’d wanted her for years. And that unintentional sexy-librarian thing she’d been doing in the lobby just about made him attack her in the elevator.
But adding the winery renovation to his docket hadn’t lessened the stress of his present circumstances, nor had it liberated the time he’d need to become romantically involved with her. He’d never been busier in his whole life. In fact, he was supposed to be working now, not having dinner with her. But when she’d asked? He just couldn’t say no to her.
Why? Maybe because, despite all the extra work and despite the fact that he’d barely seen her, he’d felt happier lately. He felt happy because he was spending time in a place she loved. He felt connected to her, even though he didn’t see her, like an intimacy was building between them simply by virtue of his growing love for The Five Sisters. And he did. He loved it. He loved every moment he spent working on the renovation of Margaret’s winery.
So much so, that he used it as a carrot throughout the day:
Get through this conference call and you can look at the plans again.
Finish these e-mails by five and you can drive out to Newtown.
Complete this spreadsheet and the moment you have it messengered over, you can call the contractor and check on the plans.
He wanted to deliver a beautiful venue for Jessica’s wedding, of course, but what he really loved was planning a state-of-the-art winery and tasting room for Margaret. Over the past two weeks, he’d somehow managed to add winery research to his never-ending to-do list, and he found he loved researching what made wineries bring in the most business. He’d decided that gardens and landscaping were extremely important, as was a covered porch wrapping around the building, with tables and chairs. The wineries that offered cheese and crackers or other highbrow snacks for sale sold more wines because the visitors lingered longer. And the wineries that partnered with local bands and offered music on summer Sundays were the hands-down local favorites.
He’d shared all this new insight with his architect, who, for the low price of forty thousand dollars, had dedicated four architects to Cameron’s project and delivered the first set of plans within five days of receiving the commission. With only a few modifications outlined in an e-mail, Margaret had approved them last week.
“What did you think of the plans?” he asked her as she chased another grain of rice around the white takeout box.
“I loved them,” she said, placing her chopsticks on her plate and the box of rice beside them.
“Really?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have approved them if I didn’t.” She offered him a small smile. “More wine?”
“Sure.” He paused, wishing she’d say more about the winery. “Is there anything you’d change?”
“Honestly? No.” She laughed softly, adding a splash of wine to her glass too. “I couldn’t believe the plans when I saw them. It was like a perfect winery materializing from my dreams. The porch? That beautiful long copper bar on the east wall? The way it looks like a barn but is still winterized? The loft upstairs, with office space and a small meeting room? I have no idea how you did it so fast, but I know I’m going to love it.”