inside surfaces were all expensive, from hardwood to marble and limestone. The bathroom off the main living area was done up in lapis-the real lapis-and the shower itself had one glass wall overlooking the mountainside.
A deer could do the voyeur thing, for heaven’s sake; the man must have no modesty at all. And since Lily’d had to use the facility, she’d accidentally noticed his office, because it was right across the hall. These days, everybody had their computer corner, someplace where dusty cords reproduced on the floor and a desk was heaped with paper. But not like this. Griff’s office looked something like a war room at the Pentagon. She had no idea what work he did-particularly since he claimed to do no work at all beyond experimenting with ice cream for fun-but that office was no play station.
She wasn’t quite sure how she wanted to deal with the liar yet, so she focused on the immediate priorities. Once the browned chicken was popped in the oven, she tested the potatoes. They were almost ready to mash. She searched for a bowl, then collected sour cream, cream cheese, fresh chives, shredded cheddar and pepper.
“Your kitchen’s beyond awesome. Is this where you play with the ice-cream flavors?”
“Almost never. The vault at the store is ideal for working with that.”
“There’s nothing more ideal than this kitchen that I’ve ever seen.” She finished another sip of wine, then added, “Be ready in about ten.”
“I set up right here.” He motioned to the glass table. “But that doesn’t mean we have to stick to that plan. If you want to eat outside-”
“Bite your tongue, handsome. I can see that gorgeous patio outside, but it’s okay with me if I never experience heat again.”
“You’re a wuss, Lily.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He stopped talking altogether, once the food hit the table. It couldn’t have been a more ordinary dinner: mashed potatoes, fresh asparagus, the chicken parmesan. She’d figured what to cook based on a single factor. He was a guy. So normally, he wouldn’t take the time to make ordinary good food.
And from the way he was shoveling it in, she’d judged that question fairly well.
“Did I mention before that I was in love with you?” he asked.
“You didn’t, but I was expecting it. I’m sure you say that to all the girls.” She enjoyed the flirting. She still hadn’t figured out why he was flirting with an ordinary schoolteacher-like herself. But it seemed pretty darn silly not to like it. Life was too darn stressful these days not to savor a smile when she could win one.
“Yeah, I do. But this time I mean it. Where’d you learn to cook like this? Would you live with me? Would you like jewelry, diamonds or rubies or something? Now’s the time to ask,” he assured her. “There’s probably nothing I wouldn’t give you.”
“Oh, good.” She finished eating long before he did. She poured him another glass of wine-she’d had enough-and cupped her chin in a palm. “I want to hear where you came from. How you ended up here.”
“Aw. You don’t want to hear that boring old history.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You said I could have anything I wanted.”
“Okay. You asked.” He reeled off the stats. Core family based out of Savannah, but his father was career military, so there was a lot of moving around. He had two younger brothers, one living in Idaho, the other in Vermont. He’d gone to college.
She made a disgusted sound. “Okay. I take it you never want me to cook for you again?”
“Whoa. Wait.”
She made a come-on motion with her hands. “Less bare bones. More real story.”
The sky blurred, blued, backdropping the hilly landscape with jewel colors and softness. When he talked her into going outside on the slab of a white patio-and it took some convincing-she discovered it wasn’t hot, not this high above the tree level. Instead, it was cool and serenely peaceful.
She sank into the cushioned lounger next to him, and accepted a bowl of his newest experiment. It was some kind of mix of blueberry and cherry and mint. Tangy. Sweet, but provocatively so. Different.
Like him.
“MIT is not a generic ‘went to college’,” she informed him. “You should have
“You can’t just tell people you came out of school a mathematician. They don’t know what to do with you. What do you think of the flavor?”
She took another spoonful. “I think it’s outstanding. The one in the store this morning-that was good, but more universal, a flavor everyone could love. This one is in a class by itself. More refreshing than rich. Flavors that blend in ways you’re not expecting. You’re good at this.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.”
He made out like he was so full of himself, but Lily was beginning to see that was just more of his tomfoolery. And it seemed about time to let on that she wasn’t that easily tomfooled. “So far, just for the record, you haven’t told me a single thing that adds up. Your field’s mathematics but you make ice cream. You started out in Savannah but your family seems to be all over the place. And where do women or wives or children fit in this picture?”
“I’m not good husband material. Which I realized a long time ago.”
“Did you discover that by being a husband?”
“Man, are you nosy.”
She got it out of him, but it took another glass of wine-for him, not her.
It probably helped that the sun dipped below the tree line, creating a concealing darkness and sense of privacy. Griff likely didn’t realize he’d forgotten to use all his usual “honeys” and “sugars” and all that other flirting nonsense.
The man she discovered behind the protective layers intrigued her-more than intrigued her. He clearly hated talking about himself. But what he grudgingly revealed exposed…well, Lily wasn’t sure what to call it. Depth. Heart. A man deeper than a well.
“My father was old-line, straight military. He wanted the family to run like a machine. You obeyed him right now, no asking questions, no excuses. I was the oldest.”
“So it was worse for you.” It was all too easy for Lily to read between the unsaid words.
“I’m not saying it was worse. Just that being oldest made things different for me. I didn’t want him raining hell on my little brothers. They cowered from him as it was.”
He didn’t say his father punched him regularly. Lily didn’t ask. But she could see the blank expression in his eyes. Hear his light tone.
“When I turned eighteen, he wanted me to sign on for the military. I wanted to go to college. We had a fight. A serious fight. It was the first time I ever hit him back. He had me arrested, thought that would be a good lesson for me, and told me that I’d see what it was like to spend the night in jail, see if I felt like disrespecting him ever again.”
Lily stopped breathing. She was afraid if she said anything, she’d cry. For him. For the pictures he was putting in her mind.
“You have to understand-my dad thought he was raising us with love. He just thought boys needed to be tough to survive, to ‘be men’. He thought toughness was a sign of character.” His gaze narrowed. “That’s the fourth glass of wine you poured me, Lily. You trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me?”
“No. Finish the story. How’d you end up at MIT?”
“A seriously decent scholarship. A lot of work. A lot of debt. I see my mother every few months, call her more than that. But I don’t see him. My one brother turned out just like him, a bully all the way. The youngest brother called me when I was at MIT. Johnny was in the hospital, broken collarbone, broken wrist. I came to get him. I was in no financial shape to take on a kid brother-particularly when my father took me to court. But we managed okay. You heard enough?”
Again his voice was lazy and teasing, as seductive as the moonlight.
She answered as she had the last time. “No. It’s still a long way from there to owning an ice cream parlor in Pecan Valley.”
“Actually, it’s not that far. I made certain decisions, once I was grown and had my kid brother on his feet. I was never doing anything requiring discipline as long as I lived. That includes wearing ties, relationships and any kind of work that takes effort.”
“Griff?”
