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“Come on, coward. What are you doing?” He’d unfastened the button at the top of his trousers.

“The stairs. I’m to be naked, remember?”

Laughing, Elise told him to keep his pants on and to follow her.

They went to a side door, not through the kitchen in case some of the staff were lingering. But she doubted that they stayed two minutes after her parents left.

The big house had that silent, eerie feel of being empty. They walked softly and didn’t speak. When they got to the big entry hall, Alejandro halted.

It was an impressive area, with a marble floor and big Chinese jugs perfectly placed. In the center was a round table that was suited to be in a museum.

“One time I kicked a soccer ball across this room. My mother was not pleased.” His expression showed his pity for her.

The stairs were wide, and curved, and carpeted in deep red. Elise went up first, then turned to face him and kept going up. “In case you ever need to know, you can sneak down these stairs in silence. And the freezer always has ice cream in it.”

“I’ll remember that.”

At the head of the stairs, she went past two closed doors, then opened the one on the left. Inside was a large room created for a little girl. There was a four-poster bed with a domed canopy. Behind the bed was a silk hanging embroidered with a tree. White cabinets had shelves full of books. A bulletin board had notes about homework due.

“It’s all pink,” he said.

“Peach. A much more subtle color, according to the designer.” She opened two big louvered doors to expose a wide, long closet packed full of clothes.

“These are all yours?”

“Every dress, shoe, necklace, and headband.” She put on a pink Alice band to demonstrate.

“I like your hair loose better. Or pulled back. Maybe with a rose.”

“Like a flamenco dancer?”

“Like a pretty girl who is happy with her life.”

“In that case, no roses for me.” She took off the headband. “Sit down while I look through things.”

There was a big round hassock in the corner and he sat on it, watching her as she opened and closed drawers and tossed things onto the floor near him.

“Why are your clothes here and not in your house?”

“Not enough room over there. And Kent’s suits—” She broke off. They never mentioned his name. It was as though they didn’t want to remember that he existed. Saying it aloud put reality into the day.

Alejandro picked up a blue-and-white dress. It had wide straps at the top and a gathered skirt. “This is pretty. You could dance in it.”

It took her a moment to bring her mind back to the present. “I wore that at a garden party my mother had. It has a jacket. Ah. Here it is.” She held up a short, dark blue bolero.

“Very nice. I like it. So how are you going to get all of this to your house?” She gave him a sweet smile. “I’m a man. I don’t carry dresses. At least not empty ones.”

“I’ll stuff them full of other clothes, then you’ll just have to carry one.”

He groaned. “Where’s the chair I’m supposed to take?”

“It’s—Ow.” She’d tripped over Alejandro’s feet as he sprawled on the hassock. He caught her arm, but instead of the usual flirtiness, he was looking around the big closet and frowning.

It was as though she could read his mind. “I don’t need all these things to be happy.”

“But it’s what you’re used to. It’s your world. It’s where you belong.”

He said this in Spanish and his deep voice made it beautiful. He was still holding her bare upper arm. Without thinking what she was doing, she put her hand on his warm chest and leaned forward. To kiss his lips was all she could think of.


Tags: Jude Deveraux The Summerhouse Science Fiction