Lovely Trigger(39)

He took the cookies carefully from my hand, setting them on top of the car. He turned to me, then slowly, softly, embraced me. He hugged me under the arms and lifted me against him. He pulled me right into his neck, and my arms went up to hook at his nape, holding on, since my feet had been lifted cleanly off the ground. He put his lips to my temple and just held on.

Neither of us said a word, but we didn’t let go. Not for a very long time.

I didn’t think of it until I was nearly home, but he’d never given me a tour of his house. Dammit, now I’d have to go back.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





He came by my gallery again the next morning, dressed in a suit. Again.

I was in the office, standing at my tall worktable as I got organized for the day.

I glanced at the clock. “Isn’t this way early for you?”

He shrugged, staring at me.

It was too intense of a regard, and I looked down at my hands while I moved some papers around.

“Come to my house for dinner tonight. I have a new recipe I want you to try.” There was no question in his voice.

I shook my head. “You know this is a mistake.”

His laugh was low and a touch bitter. “I don’t know that. Come home with me tonight. I’ll drive us straight from here.”

“And leave my car? How will I get home? And how will I get to work tomorrow?”

“I’ll drive you when I come back for the show, or whenever, wherever. I just want to share a meal. What’s the harm?”

I tried to give him a chastising look. Neither of us were naive enough to think that leaving my car here would end up in us just sharing a meal.

“I’ll come for dinner, but I’m driving myself.”

He smiled, flashing big, happy dimples, and I saw his move. He’d asked for too much, so I would concede more than I’d planned.

He moved to stand directly behind me. I shut my eyes as he pressed against me slowly.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, my voice catching.

“Shh, sweetheart, just let me. I need this.” He spoke against my temple, then kissed me there.

I let him.

He covered my hands with his own, and still, I didn’t pull away.

I wasn’t sure what he was up to, what he intended, and I wasn’t sure how long I would have let it continue, how far I would have let it go. It was taken out of both of our hands when Sandra popped her head in the office, effectively breaking the spell.

Which was embarrassing, but for the best.

“Um, sorry, but you’ve got a call on line one.” She disappeared.

“I need to work,” I told him.

He took a step back. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He left.

I tried to make myself call him and cancel, but my workday ended, and I found myself driving to his house, instead of home.

I still wore my clothes from work. It was business attire, a sexy twist on a simple navy sleeveless shirtdress, with a shorter hem, and the neckline open to reveal my cleavage down to the lace of my bralette. I’d taken the time to retouch my makeup before I’d left my office.

The pretense of this being platonic was flimsy indeed. Less believable by the minute.

He met me at the door in another dress shirt and slacks. I really wanted to know why he was dressing like this now, but he wouldn’t give me a straight answer, stubborn man.

We shared another spectacular meal, a homemade linguine with creamy pesto sauce.

I assumed he had a show that night, but as we lingered over dinner, he started talking about watching more episodes with me.

“Don’t you have to get back to the casino soon?”

“Nah, no show tonight.”

That baffled me, as I was quite familiar with his schedule. This wasn’t one of the shows normal blackout nights.

“How is that possible?”

He just shrugged it off. “I have a good contract, and sometimes, if I just need an extra night off, I get a night off.”

I didn’t want it to, but that warmed me from head to toe.

I kept him company in the kitchen while he made us a totally unnecessary dessert.

He started making chocolate cake from scratch, and I perched my butt on the counter and watched him, as fascinated as I’d ever been to watch him working in the kitchen.

He shot me a sideways smile. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to stop giving me that look if you don’t want me to ruin dessert.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said weakly.

His smile grew as he turned back to his task. “That’s right. You prefer pudding. I remember now. Be careful with those looks, pudding.”

That made my fists clench, because it brought back memories, and that made me realize that every time he used his endearments on me, my endearments, it brought back memories. Those memories were going to break down all of my defenses in no time. That couldn’t happen.

“Boo, sweetheart, pudding. You have got to stop it with all of those damn nicknames,” I told him, making my voice firm.

“Endearments.”

“Well, call them what you want to, but knock it off.” I wasn’t even sure why I bothered. He clearly wasn’t getting the message.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to me. “Is this wager material? Do you want me to stop that bad?”