“Never mind.” Blowing out a breath, she decided she’d save her official tour of the house for when she wasn’t so starstruck. When that would be, she had no idea.
Alcohol would help. Alcohol always helped.
“Do you have any wine?” she asked, staring up at the sparkling chandelier in the hopes that it might blind her and render her incapable of seeing Michael’s ridiculously handsome face.
It wasn’t fair that a guy who looked like he did also owned this kind of place at his age. She’d met up with him after class expecting a quick meal, and if things went well, hopefully a long ride. She’d also expected him to be the usual sort she’d slept with. Friendly enough, probably middle income, passably intelligent. How had she even ended up here, in this palace? She was a gift-shop manager with dubious taste in men. This one, it seemed, had vaulted right out of the backstreets of poverty and into a gold mine.
“No, sorry, I’m not a big drinker. I don’t have any wine.”
“Of course not,” she muttered. “I’m amazed you ordered a soda and not a soy latte, since your body’s a temple and all that.” Before he could reply, she whirled on him and steeled herself not to be fazed by his innate sexiness. He was a toad in sex god’s clothing. Good luck convincing yourself that. “Is there a convenience store anywhere around here? If I go driving through these woods, will I come across a cabin and some one-eyed, slobbering half-man, half-beast with a shotgun?”
Yet again he laughed, shaking his head at her as if she were the most amusing woman he’d ever encountered. Pedestrian sort that she was. “Why do you have to go to a convenience store?”
“I need a drink, just something to get the chill out of my bones and—” And the impulse to jump you on that thick rug out of my brain.
Alcohol probably wouldn’t help her impulse control much. Eh, whatever. At least she’d be warm and sitting by the fire while her brother and Sara probably made love on the dining room table and pledged themselves to each other for all eternity over her heirloom china with the little hand-painted roses.
Yep, she was losing it. Officially.
“Would you like some Cristal? I think I have a bottle of that somewhere.” He unbuttoned the cuffs of his pale blue shirt and shoved the sleeves up to his elbows, baring ropey forearms. The sprinkle of dark hair over his muscles worked for her as much as the rest of him.
She preferred her men with body hair. Maybe that meant she wasn’t progressive. Considering she’d fretted over her brother getting freaky next to her china cabinet, she’d clearly regressed a few steps.
“Yeah, what the fuck. I mean…uh, thanks.” She rubbed her forehead and the vague ache brewing there. “Pop the cork. Let’s party.”
Watching Kim unwind was like a little miracle taking place in his living room.
For more than a year, Michael had lived alone except for the company of the two ornery cats that helped make the house less lonely. He’d grown used to silence a long time ago, and after years spent packed in with way too many other people, most of them squabbling or whining, he’d actually welcomed the void. Rochelle had never been an interactive partner, so he’d been on his own long before she’d actually passed away.
Since then, he’d continued caring for this house as part of his duty to Roch, despite how isolated it made him feel. She hadn’t wanted to sell. Hadn’t wanted to live anywhere but this huge estate that had been in her husband’s family for years. But with Kim in his space, he saw what he’d been missing.
Life. Laughter. Lust.
The other L—the most elusive of all—he wasn’t concerned about. That would come someday or it wouldn’t. In the meantime, he was tired of waiting. For once he wanted to remember that he still had a world of experiences left to chase. Being so jaded twenty-four-seven was exhausting.
He’d turned on the Bose music system shortly after he poured them each a glass of champagne, and she’d only needed a few sips before she started to move to the sultry jazz music all on her own. She had a natural, easy rhythm that stole his breath. She must realize how tempting she was, right? Even lightning bugs could see their own glow.
While she wandered from photo to photo in his living room, asking questions, he watched her hips move and plotted how he could get her into his bed.
It was probably a mistake. She didn’t know what she was getting with him, and he damn sure wasn’t going to clue her in. Not yet. But he’d learned a long time ago that when the right situation presented itself, a smart person cast aside their reservations and went for it.
That night on the road, he’d considered and decided against asking for her name or number. He’d been out on his first call and hadn’t wanted to mix business with pleasure. That factor had come up again tonight yet he couldn’t seem to give a damn. Not when she was dancing her way around his living room like seduction personified. She was grace and beauty and strength, wrapped up in an innate sexiness he’d love to try to capture on paper if he had skill. But he didn’t. He only had words, fumbling ones at that, and his honest appreciation.
Hell, he had good instincts. The very house he was sitting in served as proof. Some people might question his choices, but those people didn’t see the happiness on his mother’s face when he sent that check home every month. When he invited the kids out for long weekends and they ran through his place like it was Disneyland. The
ir laughter made worthwhile all the nights he lay in bed wondering if he should’ve resisted trading one kind of poverty for another.
He’d shared a house with Roch but he’d never shared her life, not in the way he’d imagined couples did. Their closeness had been one of proximity, not emotions. That hadn’t stopped him from trying for far too long.
Now he knew better. Entanglements beyond a certain level only meant demands, not reciprocity.
“You’ve traveled a lot,” Kim said thoughtfully, sipping while her hips did that slow roll thing that made his brain scramble.
“Actually no. Those are Rochelle’s photos. She traveled before I knew her but I chose which ones to display. I also matted and framed them.”
“You have a good eye for details.”
“Moguling’s hard work. I need to play too.” He grinned at her arched eyebrow. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. I know you’ve formed some opinions of me, so why not try them on for size?”