“It reminds me of our lovely glade in the woods,” Hattie teased. “But truly, it is beautiful.
Guy offered an arm so they might view the house. With archways rather than doors, the downstairs rooms opened in a harmonious flow. Every space complemented the whole in an earthy palette from russet and tan to sky blue and verdant green. No heavy drapes blocked the natural light entering through the windows, as the glow of sunset illuminated Guy’s haven.
He indicated a free-standing curved staircase leading to the second floor. “I’ll show you the upstairs later, if you like, and I do not mean that to sound salacious.”
“A tour of the bedrooms would be most inappropriate. What would your servants think?”
“Simmons and Mrs. Hallifax keep their counsel. No hint of scandal would ever spread from them. We are as unchaperoned as if we were alone.” Guy offered her a seat in the drawing room once more. “Not that I am expecting a, um, liaison. Merely apprising you of the situation.”
“Noted.” Hattie pictured a bedroom, the pair of them naked, limbs entwined. The mere mention of a sexual connection was like releasing a genie from a bottle to hover invisibly in the room until every word seemed fraught with innuendo.
“I admire your balls,” Hattie blurted, then quickly amended, “That is, these stone balls in the dish.” She gestured to the center of an occasional table on which a hammered metal bowl contained an array of polished orbs of marble, granite and other types of stone.
“Oh! Yes.” Guy seemed as flustered as she. “Lowell Enterprises owns a quarry. These were gifted to Father by the owner every Christmas season. He stuck them in a cupboard. I’ve put them on display. Aren’t they spectacular?”
“All the décor is stunning. Have you considered design as more than a hobby?”
“I enjoyed the planning, but don’t know if I would care to do it for other people, who would have their own opinions.” He offered her a glass of wine from which Hattie took a long sip. “I appreciate art in all its forms, but remain a dilettante since I tend to lose focus and drift to the next new thing.”
“Perhaps you will find the right subject and dig deeper into that avenue of interest. You might find committing to something very satisfying.”
“Wise words. That is why I hold you in such great esteem.” His keen look and the low pitch of his voice vibrated the hairs on Hattie’s neck like antennae. If a voice alone could bring one to climax, Guy’s would do the trick.
Hattie shook off the spell. “Have you spoken to Rumsfield about Miss Pruett?”
“Ah yes, I meant to tell you right away. I telephoned him and he is on the case. With luck he may have news to share by tomorrow.”
Just then her stomach growled loudly, making her blush.
“You’ve worked all day. You’re hungry, of course. I will ask Mrs. Hallifax if she can hurry the supper.” Guy gave his request into a mouthpiece mounted on the wall and connected by wire to the kitchen. Hattie appreciated his polite way with of asking rather than brusquely ordering his staff. The manner in which a person addressed those of lower degree spoke of their character.
She continued sipping wine, admiring the room, and imagining what it would be like to come home to such a welcoming place at the end of each day. “You inspire me to do some decorating in my rooms. I hadn’t noticed how spartan they are. With the shop requiring all of my attention, I haven’t taken the time to add color or amenities to my flat.”
“Invite me over and I will help you create a place that reflects your taste and feels like home.”
“Something akin to this beautiful room would be exactly that,” she admitted. “But I could not afford extensive changes, only new wallpaper and a few pieces of furniture.”
Simmons arrived to announce a mournful, “Dinner is served” that sounded like a death knell, before vanishing once more.
Again Guy offered Hattie his arm. The wine on an empty stomach had gone to her head. When she rose, she grew dizzy and needed his support. Even after recovering her balance, she continued to lean into his strength like a flower inclining toward the sun.
In the dining room, two place settings graced one end of an oak table large enough to accommodate a party. A huge floral arrangement dominated the center, and the table’s polished gold surface reflected the dimmed chandelier lights. Fragrant steam wafted from an array of covered dishes.
Guy held Hattie’s chair, and she gratefully sank upon it. Apparently, Simmons had been asked to leave them alone for Guy served her from each dish, piling her plate. They spoke little, focusing more upon consuming the meal than conversation.
After Hattie had eaten more food at a quicker pace than was polite, she patted her lips and sat back. “I’m ashamed of my lack of control. I devoured everything.”
“I’m glad to see you eat so heartily,” he said. “Although I will admit I was in fear for my fingers should I get too close.”
Hattie lost her last shred of reserve and slipped into easy banter. Lowering her lids and regarding him through a veil of lashes, she murmured, “If you wish to know how ravenous I can be, perhaps you might show me the upstairs rooms now.”
Guy’s eyebrows shot up and he dropped his fork. Precisely the response she was aiming for. That second—and third—glass of wine with dinner had loosened her tongue and left her body warm and buzzing. Every fiber sang like a violin string pulled taut. Her risqué statement was only partially in jest.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I want to kiss you, and I don’t feel this is the place
