“What programs do you like to watch?” Ian asked, gesturing to the television.
When was the last time any man had seemed genuinely interested in what she liked? She couldn’t remember, which probably said a great deal about her choices in men.
“A little of everything. From Hallmark movies to true crime to travel shows and everything in between. I’m an equal-opportunity viewer and change channels a lot. What kind of shows do you watch?”
He shrugged. “I don’t watch much telly, if you want the truth. Give me a good book and maybe a little Glenlivet and I’m sorted for the night.”
He winced a little. “That makes me sound like my father, doesn’t it? Sorry. At least I didn’t say a cup of tea instead of the Scotch, which is probably closer to the truth most of the time.”
She smiled at his honesty. “Either way, it sounds nice. You don’t need to apologize for what makes you happy, Ian. Some people like haute couture while others are most comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt. I learned early on working at Fremont Fashions that neither choice is bad, simply individual preference.”
“I’m obviously the jeans and T-shirt type. For now, anyway,” he added under his breath.
She wanted to ask what he meant but he didn’t give her the chance.
“We really did have a lovely day on our adventure. The children will remember it always. Thank you for showing us the falls.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you for inviting me and pulling me away from my sewing machine. I loved it. Your children are a delight.”
“Most of the time. They do have their moments. But on the whole, yes. I would have to say I’ve been extraordinarily lucky in the offspring department.”
Oh, she liked him. Entirely too much. With a sigh, she decided she might as well confess all.
“I enjoyed their company and yours,” she admitted softly. “And that’s not flirting, I promise. It’s truth.”
“I enjoyed yours, as well.” His voice was so low it seemed to whisper through the room, giving her goose bumps she hoped he didn’t see.
Her gaze met his as the moment seemed to swirl around them. She saw that hunger in his eyes again and knew he wanted to kiss her.
She should walk away now. She only had to shift slightly and put a little more space between them. She knew it would be the smartest thing to do, the best choice for self-preservation, but she couldn’t seem to get her muscles to cooperate. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her mouth slightly parted, unable to help herself.
That hunger flared brighter and then he kissed her, as she wanted him to with a fierce ache that astonished her.
At first, the kiss was soft, gentle, his mouth barely touching hers. She caught her breath, swept away by sensation. If his mouth had been hard, aggressive, she might have been able to resist him, but this gentleness completely enchanted her and left her wanting more.
She twisted her hands around his neck and returned the kiss, her fingers playing in his thick, dark hair as she had longed to do all day.
She could fall in love with Ian Summerhill so easily, she thought as his mouth demolished all her good intentions. It would only take the merest push.
Oh. She was such an idiot. She couldn’t do this again, set herself up for heartbreak with a man who couldn’t be hers. She had to break the pattern.
Ian Summerhill wasn’t the man for her. He had a life away from here, a family, a complicated past.
Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, Ian deepened the kiss and she shivered, letting him push her against the wall, his body hard and muscled against hers.
She gave in for a few more moments, caught up in the magic and the wonder and the sheer delight of the kiss.
Why did it have to be so blasted hard to make the smart decision here? She didn’t want to. She wanted to keep kissing him for the rest of the afternoon while the rain clicked against the windows.
Each moment she spent in his arms made it harder and harder to do the right thing. Finally, though everything inside her urged her to stay right here, she managed to find the strength necessary to slide her mouth away from his. They stared at each other, both breathing hard, for a long moment as a suddenly awkward silence spread between them.
He sighed finally, a wistful, hungry sound that left her restless, needy.
“I did it again, didn’t I? I completely lost my head.”
“We both did,” she murmured.
“And after we talked about why we’re both not looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry, Samantha. I should never have kissed you. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Maybe the rainstorm,” she suggested, though she knew that wasn’t the reason. This particular storm between them had been building all day. Every moment she had spent with him that day had left her wanting to kiss him again.
“That might be. Whatever the reason, I promise it won’t happen again.”
She knew she shouldn’t feel this twinge of sorrow. She didn’t want to think about never kissing him again. “It’s fine. It happened. Let’s move on.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not that sort of man, in case you were wondering. The kind who looks for dalliances everywhere he goes.”
She was quite sure she had never heard anyone outside of an actor on a film or television show use the word dalliance.
“I never thought you were,” she assured him.
He made a rueful sort of sound. “You seem to bring out a side of me I don’t quite recognize.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what else she could say. He made her sound like some femme fatale with unlimited power.
“I certainly don’t blame you. It’s not your fault, it’s entirely
