Kit quickly lit the candles that flanked the centerpiece of fresh flowers on the table. The flickering candlelight created an even more romantic ambience.
“Oh, Kit,” Savannah breathed, immeasurably touched by his gesture. Even if this was something he did all the time for the women he dated, no one had ever done anything this special for her. And she loved it.
He pressed another switch and soft, dreamy, instrumental music began to play from unseen speakers.
And then he turned to Savannah. “Well?”
“It’s beautiful. Perfect.” She looked at him with an unguarded expression. “Thank you.”
He caught her left hand and lifted it to his lips. “You’re welcome.”
For a long, shimmering moment they stood just that way, surrounded by music and candles and flowers, his lips warm against her skin. S
avannah held her breath until her head spun from lack of oxygen—or was it just Kit’s touch?
It was with a show of reluctance that he drew back. “I’ll go get our dinner. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, not quite trusting her voice.
He urged her to take a seat at the table, and then disappeared into the cabin, leaving her to enjoy the beautiful, peaceful setting. He wasn’t gone long, returning with a large wicker hamper from which he began to unpack china plates, silverware and crystal, followed by covered silver serving dishes.
“I ordered this from a local restaurant this afternoon,” he explained. “It’s a cold meal that I was able to keep in the refrigerator. I didn’t want to waste any time in the kitchen this evening.”
“A cold meal sounds fine to me,” she assured him. She often ate a light supper on Sundays, when Ernestine usually prepared large, heavy lunches.
Kit served their meal with a skill that spoke of experience.
“I worked as a waiter once,” he explained when she complimented his expertise. ‘Back when I was a struggling young writer who still hadn’t published his first book. I was pretty good at it, too.”
Savannah lifted an eyebrow. “Is there anything you do badly?” she asked, her tone rather dry.
His grin turned cocky. “Not that I can think of at the moment.”
She shook her head in feigned exasperation. “Must be nice to be so confident.”
Kit only laughed and filled her wineglass.
The meal was delicious. They listened to music and talked while they ate.
Savannah insisted on hearing about Kit. He was finding out more about her all the time, she reminded him. But she still knew little about him, except his profession.
He shrugged with a self-deprecating air that didn’t really suit him. “I’m not so interesting,” he assured her.
“That’s not what the tabloids and talk shows seem to think,” she retorted, her tone wry. She didn’t follow them herself, but she’d heard plenty about Kit’s appearances in them now that people knew she knew him.
“I’m the flavor of the month,” he replied prosaically. “When I was new at this business, I believed the hype. I nearly fell into the Hollywood trap of believing my own press. Three years ago—on my thirty-first birthday—my dad had a long, no-holds-barred talk with me and told me I was getting obnoxious, and that I’d better keep in mind what really mattered in life. If not, he said, I was going to be left with nothing when the fame fairy moved on to the next lucky sucker.”
Savannah couldn’t help chuckling. “The fame fairy?”
“That’s what we call it. Here today, gone tomorrow. Sometimes nice and pleasant, other times wicked and uncomfortable. Thanks in part to my dad’s advice, I’ve learned to enjoy the good parts of success and to try to ignore the downside. Like the tabloids.”
“Your dad sounds like a very nice man.”
“He’s great. Both my parents are. They’ve always encouraged me to go after whatever I wanted, never led me to believe there was anything I couldn’t achieve if I worked hard enough at it. But they always stressed that enjoying life and living it with honor and dignity mattered more than money. I try to keep that in mind.”
“You like what you do?”
“I love it,” he answered simply. “All I ever wanted to do was to create stories. Entertain people. It was as if I had no choice—as if I was born to do this. I wanted my work to be appreciated, of course, but I never expected all this other stuff. The talk shows and tabloids, I mean.”