“Jesus, Brian,” she says as she turns around in the grand foyer, taking it all in. “You live in a freaking palace.”
Hardly, I think to myself, but I watch her carefully. Her gaze goes to the curved floating staircase under which is a marble koi pond with a waterfall built into the underside of the stairs. She looks past that into the massive formal room with its red and gold carpet custom rug that holds couches, chairs, and chaises, along with tables and a grand piano. It could easily hold a hundred people and not be cramped. Finally, her gaze drifts across the cream marble flooring to the dining room to the right with a table that seats twenty and a chandelier hanging low over it that’s as big as a small car.
When she completes her circle and faces me, she cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what to make of this.”
“What do you mean?” I ask curiously. “Surely you get I’m rich, right?”
She snorts at me, drops her purse onto the round foyer table, and starts to take her leather jacket off. “Of course I knew you were rich. I just didn’t realize you lived in a freaking palace.”
“It’s hardly a palace,” I mutter as I hold my hand out for her jacket.
“It’s got to be at least ten thousand square feet,” she says in awe as she looks around again. “What could one man do with that much room?”
“It’s a little over sixteen thousand square feet,” I correct her as I take her by the elbow and start to steer her through the house. “And Gray did live here before she went off to college.”
“You know,” she says sweetly as we enter the kitchen. “This ostentatious display of wealth could be overcompensation.”
“Excuse me?” I ask with surprise as I drape her jacket over the back of an island stool and motion with my hand for her to sit. “Overcompensation for what?”
Georgia’s eyes flash mischievously but she shrugs with an innocent air. “Oh, I don’t know…I’m just saying…”
Yeah, I know exactly what she’s saying, and I also don’t even bother to engage her because I know that’s what she wants. Georgia loves to bait me.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I redirect her attention. “Would you like some wine or perhaps a mixed drink?”
“Why?” she challenges me. “You going to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”
My brain actually wars with itself. The stuffy, staid executive within me wants to take offense she would ever think I’d do something like that, and another part of me wants to drag her off to my bedroom so I can assure her I don’t need wine to loosen us up.
“Georgia,” I chide, hell-bent on getting the upper hand. “Why do you have to resort to these underhanded tactics to get me to admit that I want you?”
And for the first time since I’ve met this wicked and wild woman, her jaw drops and she’s absolutely speechless. I just smile blandly at her, waiting for her to get her bearings back.
Because Georgia is fruity at the best of times and unpredictable at the worst, I have no clue how she’ll respond. So I’m not exactly surprised when she bypasses the stool I’d offered her and instead walks right into my personal space until we are mere inches from each other. I top her by almost a foot, so I look down as she looks up, and her brown eyes are dark but glittering with something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it makes my blood start to race.
“You need to kiss me right now,” she demands, although it’s done sweetly, and with her southern twang that makes it adorable.
“Really?” I ask as I bring my hands to her shoulders.
“Yes,” she says with a nod. “Now would be a good time.”
And I couldn’t agree with her more. It’s time. It’s way past time, as a matter of fact.
I bend my head down as Georgia raises to her tiptoes, and I brush my lips lightly against hers. Her arms go around my neck, her fingers into my hair, and she presses her mouth insistently against mine. The minute her tongue touches the tip of mine, my head actually swims from the overload of feelings rushing through me. Lust, wonder, fear.
Yes, fear, because it’s been awhile since I’ve done this.
I haven’t been a celibate man all these years since my wife died, but I haven’t exactly been active the last few years, preferring to immerse myself in work.
But this, right here? It’s amazing and thrilling and I suddenly want more. I want to experience everything with Georgia, and if the tightening in my pants is any indication, there’s quite a bit of Georgia I want.
My hands drop from her shoulders, slip around her waist, and I pull her in tight to me. Georgia lets out a tiny moan when her belly presses against my erection, and for a brief moment, I’m embarrassed.
But the embarrassment passes, because Georgia makes a moaning sound of need, then presses in tighter against me and suddenly, now all I can think about is getting our clothes off and taking her to bed.
“Well, this is an awkward scene to walk into,” I hear from behind Georgia, and I immediately recognize my daughter’s voice.