“Uh-huh.”
“Without me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When?”
“Careful, there’s an exposed rusty nail.”
When they reached the landing, Dillon turned right, sweeping the hallway with the flashlight. The doors to all the rooms stood open, except one at the end of the hall. It was to that door that Dillon led her. He looked at her expectantly before turning the porcelain knob and swinging the door open.
Jade crossed the threshold and stepped into the room. Unlike the rest of the house, this room had been cleaned. There were no cobwebs in the corners of the tall ceiling or clinging to the crystal teardrops of the overhead chandelier. The finish on the hardwood floor was dull, but it had been swept free of dust and debris.
There was one piece of furniture in the room—a brass bed. Jade had admired it during her first visit to the house, although it had appeared hopelessly tarnished. Now, it shone in the beam of Dillon’s flashlight. In the Victorian style, the tall headboard was elaborate with swirls and curls. Pillows in fresh white linens were piled against it. There were fresh sheets and a comforter covering the mattress. Mosquito netting had been suspended from the ceiling to drape the bed.
Dumbfounded, Jade stood gazing at it all while Dillon moved to the marble fireplace and lit the candles that had been arranged on the hearth. Then he went around the room lighting dozens of other candles, until the pale moiré walls shimmered in the soft light and the brass bed beneath the gauze gleamed incandescently. When the last candle had been lit, he blew out the match and tossed it into the fireplace, then turned to face Jade. He looked sheepish and apprehensive.
“Well, what do you think?”
She raised her hands at her sides and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“I don’t have a lot to do most nights,” he said. “Ever since you swung the deal on this house, I’ve been coming here after hours, doing odd jobs.”
He directed an uneasy glance toward the bed. “It might seem presumptuous, I know. But I knew how much you liked this place. So I thought that if you ever… that if we… Hell.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck and shoved the other one into the waistband of his jeans.
“Look, I couldn’t take you to that damned trailer, okay? That’s about the least romantic setting imaginable and… and I thought you needed, deserved, to be romanced.” He muttered a string of curses. “I sound like a jerk, right? Well, I feel like a goddamn fool. The most romantic thing I’ve done for any woman, since Debra died, is ask her her name first.” He blew out a breath of pure disgust. “This probably wasn’t a good idea after all. You can back out if you want to.”
Mutely Jade shook her head.
“I won’t be mad, I swear,” he said. “Say you want to call it quits, and we’ll call it quits.”
She approached him. “I’m beginning to think you’re the one who’s scared, Dillon.”
“I am. I’m scared you might back out.” Gruffly he added, “I don’t want you to.”
“I’ll probably be a miserable flop.”
Candlelight was reflected in his intense stare. “That’s not possible.”
Self-consciously, she averted her gaze to the bed. “The room is lovely. Really. It was a thoughtful—and romantic—gesture.”
“Thanks.”
She brought her head back around and smiled shyly. “I’m glad it’s going to be with you, Dillon.”
He reached for her hand and clasped it. His thumb followed the bumpy ridge of her knuckles. “So am I. But why is it me?”
Her lashes swept down to obscure her eyes. “I’m still not sure I can go through with it, but… you’re the first man that ever made me wish I could. For the first time, I think it’s worth taking the risk.”
Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it. “At any point along the way, all you have to say is stop, and I’ll stop. I’ll probably curse. I might even cry,” he said with a half-smile. “But I’ll stop.”
She didn’t want him to stop what he was doing with her hand. He held it against his lips as he spoke, his breath leaving moist patches on her skin. He turned it slightly and, as he opened her fingers, sank his teeth into the plump base of her thumb.
Closing his eyes, he kissed the center of her palm, burying his mouth in the heart of it. His lips were warm and earnest, his tongue playful and erotic. He guided her index finger up to his mustache. He explored it from one curving end to the other with her fingertip, riding the rim of his upper lip.
Lightly, he scraped his teeth against her index finger. It tickled—on her finger and in her lower belly. He took turns with each of her fingers, nibbling the flesh, stroking the skin with his tongue.
Jade derived almost as much pleasure watching him as she did from feeling what he was doing. Candlelight picked up the lighter strands of his hair. Dark, stubby eyelashes lay against his cheekbones, which were faintly traced with squint lines. His mouth, with his fuller lower lip beneath the wide mustache, looked unmitigatedly sexy. Looking at it made her tummy feel like a cat, stretching with animalistic pleasure after a long sleep.