Chapter 7
Monday evening’s nip in the air was enough to signal to the trees to change their leaves and to remind Claire that she better venture farther into the main house and find the box of winter clothes she’d shipped there last May. Instead, she grabbed her beat up leather motorcycle jacket. It wasn’t New York fashionable, but she’d had it so long, she suspected it possessed the ability to anticipate her every move. Perfect for jumping over fences if the need arose.
She didn’t know a thing about James except that he was a great kisser and a fun conversational foil. Perhaps, he had a girlfriend back in New York, one who wore skyscraper high heels and the latest styles. She scoffed at the idea as fast as it came to her. He was an engineer, not a millionaire. He couldn’t afford a high maintenance girlfriend. Thinking of which...
The Napa Valley cab-blend weighed heavily in her hand. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to serve it, and if he did have a girlfriend in New York, he didn’t deserve the special occasion wine. Scowling, she returned to the house and grabbed a six pack IPA, technically a five pack since she drank one Saturday night at the house as she sorted magazines and catalogs to recycle. The change of plans only added two minutes to the seven-minute walk to his house, but it was two more minutes stuck in her mental worry loop. He’d better not disappoint her. She desperately needed the sort of fun low-pressure distraction he seemed ready to offer.
The door swung open before she reached the porch. He was even better looking than she remembered. His dark-blond hair was short but not buzzed. His clean shave showed off a rugged square jaw. The best part, he wore a frilly apron and a hungry look.
“I brought you a housewarming gift.” She waved the beer as she crossed the porch.
“Then you better come in before Miss Jones calls the police.”
As soon as the door banged closed, he wrapped her in his arms, holding her tenderly as he nuzzled her hair with his face. All the tension of the last few days left her body. If she left now, it would be the best date she’d had in a long time. But she had no intention of leaving.
“I missed you.”
Blinking, she met his gaze. His eyes held a twinkle that didn’t come from an obvious light source, but rather from somewhere inside. She shared the sentiment but resisted saying so. She wasn’t ready to make herself that vulnerable. Not yet.
“You barely know me enough to miss me.”
“Maybe. But I missed talking with you. New York City sunsets dulled in comparison. You changed your hair. Purple.”
A low rumble escaped her throat. The air around them crackled with sexual energy. There was no girlfriend hiding in the city. From the way he tilted his head, to the way he stood close enough for inhale and exhale to be audible, she had his full attention. This would be a night to remember.
“More like Burgundy with some orange. I had to change color for the season and I didn’t want you to think I was a natural bluenette. Take my coat?”
“You made me forget my manners.” He set the beer on the floor, arching an eyebrow inquisitively at her when he spotted the empty slot.
“I was thirsty.” She shrugged.
“Can’t have that.” He moved behind her, sliding the coat off her shoulders, revealing her bare arms. Her flesh burned where his fingers touched her. She might have gasped. “Can I get you something now?”
“Yes, please.” Even facing the other direction, her body sensed when he stepped away. Part of her wanted to shout out ‘just you, naked.’ But her brain struggled for control, reminding her that she did want to get to know him and find out if he was worth spending time with for however long they were both in town. She glanced around.
“Nice décor.” The orange and brown floral wallpaper was the same as ever. He hadn’t bothered to change much, another sign he was temporary and just passing through. If it worked, they could have fun, but without any expectations of relying on each other.
“Mid-century modern is passé, and lumberjack chic is endangered of being overdone, so I thought I’d make a bold statement of seventy’s shame.”
“Nice. Do you have shag carpet?”
“In avocado green, natch.”
“Excellent.” She clicked her tongue as they both restrained laughs. Even their humor was simpatico.
He picked up the five pack and then extended his other hand. “Join me in the kitchen? I have a little bit to finish.”
“Lead the way. But I have one favor to ask, no work talk of any sort. I need a break.”
“Me too.”
NOT THAT HE CONSIDERED himself a bad cook, but when she placed the first bite of steak au poivre in her mouth and closed her eyes for a long blink before purring ‘yum,’ it was as if he won a cooking contest.
Conversation and beer flowed easily. No awkward preliminaries. Without the work-related chit-chat, opening up and exploring beyond the surface came easy. When she asked about how his visit went, he decided to be honest.
“It was not a relaxing weekend.”
“How does your family make you crazy?”
“I like how you phrase that. Your family must make you crazy too.”
“Can’t. They’re all dead” Her tone varied little from her regular flip one. Strange, but James’ believed her. His gut tensed at the thought of her being without family.
“I’m so so— “
“No. No apologies or sympathy. I’ve had enough and you never met any of them so why should you feel sorry. Anyway, you avoided my question. How?” The eyebrow arch showed she meant business.
Where to start? “We’re a bit competitive.”
“Do
