He was still holding the bag of cat food and he set it on the corner of his unexpectedly cluttered desk as he approached her. “Monty the Curious Penguin. I know.”
Her chest felt tight. “But why?”
“Why not? It’s your mom’s first book. And it’s a good one. One of Layla’s favorites, in fact. She’s Greer and Ryder’s oldest. She’ll be three in a few months and she always wants to look at the pictures when she is here.”
An image of him reading to a little girl filled Nell’s head way too easily. It joined the memory of him holding Liam. And it caused an increasingly familiar longing deep down inside her.
“It’s not for sale anymore,” she said. He’d stopped only inches away from her and she stared up at him. “It hasn’t been for a very long time.”
“I know. You told me.”
He’d either had it for a very long time or he’d put some effort into finding it. “There were twelve in all.”
“You told me that, too.” His voice was impossibly gentle. “Did you ever finish tracking all of them down? You had all but one.”
“The tenth.” She shook her head. “Is it a coincidence? You just happen to have a copy of this?” She held up the book between them. Almost like a shield.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes.” She turned and slid the book into its narrow space on the crowded shelf, then just hovered there, her blind gaze on the myriad titles. Her heart was beating so hard, she felt dizzy.
She forced herself to turn back. To face him. Because not facing him felt cowardly. And when it came to him—to the things he’d told her tonight—the last thing she wanted to be was cowardly. Her gaze caught on his strong, angled jaw for a moment before finally reaching his gaze. “And yes, I want it to be an invitation.”
“I’m sensing a but in there.” There wasn’t a single spark of deviltry in those green depths now. If there had been, she’d have been able to resist his intense lure.
Her throat tightened. Her mouth was dry. Swallowing was nearly impossible. “But I’m afraid.”
His hands settled lightly on her shoulders. Thumbs roving in small, gentle...distracting...circles. “Of what?”
Of everything.
“Making another mistake,” she said instead.
Something in his eyes flickered. The distracting circles slowed. Stopped. The corners of his lips lifted for such a brief moment she almost missed it. Then his hands moved. Lightly cupped her face. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers in a kiss as faint as a whisper.
Maybe for that reason alone, it shook her all the way down to her soul.
Then he straightened.
His hands fell away.
“We’re all afraid of making mistakes, Cornelia.” And he turned and left her alone in his study.
She sagged against the bookcase behind her. Against her mother’s first book that was sitting on his bookshelf.
Eighteen hours later, Nell still didn’t know if she’d passed up the chance of a lifetime with Archer or if she’d escaped by the skin of her teeth.
What she did know, however, was that she still felt shaky. And it was extremely inconvenient, when she ought to have all of her focus on her final checklist for Vivian’s cocktail party.
Which was probably why she nearly jumped out of her skin when a young woman suddenly breezed into Vivian’s office at the mansion with a cheerful “Hi! You must be Nell.”
Nell stared at the gamin-faced girl. She was wearing a short, glittering red dress that showed off her legs, particularly when she hopped up to sit on the side of Vivian’s desk, knocking aside a stack of mail. “Yes,” Nell returned warily. “And you are—”
“Delia.”
Vivian’s granddaughter-slash-assistant who’d been away, Nell realized.
She suddenly felt very self-conscious in her black dress that was nowhere near as vibrant. It didn’t sparkle. It didn’t cling and it covered her knees. In fact it looked more like a shapeless sack, but since Nell hadn’t made it into Classic Charms until the last minute, she’d had to go with what had been available.
The salesgirl had insisted Nell looked très chic, but at that particular moment, Nell felt anything but.
“I’m Nell,” she said, and quickly shook the other girl’s hand. “And it’s nice to meet you. Though I think we probably did meet a long time ago. I spent a summer once in Braden with your aunt and uncle. And all of you came over one day for a barbecue in the backyard. You would have been just a little girl.”
Delia smiled mischievously. “Fortunately I’m not little anymore. And don’t be offended when I say I don’t remember you.” She swung her feet that were clad in ruby-red sandals with mile-high heels. “So how do you like working for our Vivvie?”
Nell almost choked. Vivvie was about the last thing she’d have dared to call Vivian. But then she wasn’t one of the woman’s grandchildren. “It’s very interesting.”
She moved over to the windows to look down at the patio below. It was so nice and warm, they would be starting off out on the rear patio. Montrose had been busy in the kitchen all day making his preparations. She hoped.
All Nell could do was trust that the chef would do his part, since he’d barred everyone from entering the kitchen after having one too many shouting matches with Vivian over the menu.
There were no trays of food on the linen-draped tables. But at least the florist was there, setting out several bouquets. They were fancier than Nell thought necessary, but they weren’t quite as formal and ornate as Vivian had envisioned.
Nell could only hope the decision she’d made where the flowers were concerned would be more on point than her indecision where Archer was concerned.
After spending a sleepless—and solitary—night on the narrow bed in the bedroom next to Archer’s study, he’d returned her to Weaver early that morning just the way he’d promised.
With no one the wiser.
Well, nobody except Gardner, who’d been trying
