The driver pulled around the circular drive to the end of the tiered stone walkway leading to the entrance, then opened her door. She stood by the car as he retrieved her bag from the trunk, noticing the lovely flowers in different shades of pinks and purples lining the path. She didn’t know much about flowers, but those colors were her favorites and she was sure Liam would have considered that when he’d had these gardens planted.
He’d bought this house after things had started to fall apart between them, and he’d tried to convince her to move here. He’d thought starting fresh in a new place would help.
But when he’d surprised her with the idea, she’d already decided to ask him for a divorce. So she’d never even been to the house before today.
“After you, ma’am,” the driver said, her small suitcase in his hand.
As she started up the path to the front door of this lovely, sprawling home, she realized she would have fallen in love with it. Surrounded by trees and water, the casual elegance of the classic Cape Cod architecture—white wood finish, teal shutters, steep shingled roof—appealed to her. And in the fading light of the day, the soft glow of the lights from inside was homey and inviting.
The driver opened the front door for her and she stepped inside.
When she walked into the large living room with its high vaulted ceilings and rustic antique beams, her breath caught. The space itself was open and bright, with white built-in shelves and cupboards along one wall, large windows looking out the front, and pairs of French doors opening to the back, where she could see a patio and the lake glittering in the fading sunlight beyond. The neutral furniture, in creams and taupe, gave a very relaxed feel to the airy space.
“Abi, it’s good to see you.” Liam stepped into view from the kitchen, which was open to the large living room and dining room.
He looked so handsome in his jeans and short-sleeved button-down shirt. She quivered inside at the thought of him touching her. Wrapping his arms around her and claiming her lips.
He walked toward her with a welcoming smile.
“Hello, Liam.”
She walked toward one of the French doors, wanting to keep a distance between them, not wanting to give him a chance to kiss her.
He gestured to the driver, who then took her bag into another room and returned a moment later.
“Is that all, sir?” he asked Liam.
“Yes, thanks, Greg.”
But as the driver turned, Abi spoke up. “Actually, Liam, why don’t you have the driver wait. I really think we can hash this out in about an hour, then he could take me back.”
Liam merely chuckled. “Nice try, Abi. But you agreed to stay for the weekend.”
The driver disappeared out the door, leaving them alone.
“What do you think of the place?” he asked, gesturing around them.
“It’s really lovely.”
His eyes turned wistful. “I thought you’d like it.” Then he smiled again. “If you’d like to freshen up, the master bedroom is down the hall. You’ll see the open doors.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I’m not staying in the same bedroom with you.”
His gaze caught on hers. “Are you sure?”
She knew he wasn’t asking her if she’d made up her mind. He’d used that deep, rumbling tone he had to remind her that she was weak around him. That he could seduce her into doing things she wouldn’t have thought she’d do in calmer moments. That is, moments when his masculine aura wasn’t playing havoc with her senses.
“I’m quite sure,” she said, mustering up her resolve.
He nodded, but his glittering eyes said we’ll see.
“I hope you’re hungry. I have dinner ready.” He turned toward the kitchen and she followed.
It was a generous-sized kitchen with one wall totally open to the living room, a breakfast bar with high cushioned stools the only division between the rooms.
He opened the wall oven and the enticing aroma of lasagna filled the room. As he pulled it out, she picked up the salad sitting on the counter and carried it to the dining table. He set the flat pan on a hot pad on the table, then pulled out a chair for her. She sat down and he sat across from her.
The table was already set with china and stem glasses. He picked up the bottle of wine already open on the table.
“No wine, thank you,” she said quickly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? But you love this wine.”
It was true. Liam had introduced her to the delights of fine wine early in their relationship, and she’d particularly liked this one. He was really doing everything he could to win her over.
He started to pour anyway.
“Liam, I’m not having wine,” she said through gritted teeth, hoping he wouldn’t push it any further.
“That’s fine. Leave it if you really don’t want it, but the bottle’s already open.”
She knew what he was doing. Often when she’d turn down dessert, he’d bring her an extra fork, knowing she’d probably wind up indulging in a bite of his. If he filled her glass, he expected she’d probably change her mind and have some anyway.
He cut the lasagna and served her a piece. She loved lasagna, but as the thick aroma filled her nostrils, she felt a wave of nausea.
Oh, God, she didn’t think she was going to be able to eat it.
She reached for the salad and filled her bowl.
He sipped his wine, watching her over the glass. When he set it down, he leaned forward.
“I think I know what’s going on here.”
Her gaze darted to his. “Going on? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think you’re turning down the wine because you want to keep a clear head. You’re afraid that wine will make it easier for me to
