I’m about to greet him when Edward spins before me, the move so rapid I almost leap back. ‘Summer! I didn’t hear you!’
I give a smile that’s laced with guilt...a tiny shrug too. ‘You seemed to be lost in thought.’
I wasn’t devouring your rear with my eyes...honest!
He rakes a hand through his hair and my fingers burn with envy... Until his eyes trail over me, and then my entire body is burning at the obvious appreciation I spy there.
He clears his throat. ‘I was...’ Then he gestures at my top, his eyes looking but not looking. ‘That sweater was a good choice.’
The burn becomes a low-down ache, acute, needy, and my heart is pulsing with a ridiculous amount of joy...all over a sweater.
‘I like it...’ and there go my cheeks with their blushing ‘...thank you.’
A heated silence descends, broken eventually by the clearing of James’s throat. His trademark move, I’m discovering. ‘I’ll let Marie know you’re ready.’
Edward nods and I step past him, enter the dining room before I can give any more of myself away.
Inside, the drapes are drawn against the dark outdoors and the wall sconces are set to low, setting off the austere beauty of the wood-panelled walls and antique paintings. The fire is roaring in the grate, flames dancing and giving up a heavenly warmth.
The highly polished table that is big enough for twenty has been set for two at the end closest to the fire, and I breathe the smallest sigh of relief. I half expected to walk in and find a place setting at either end of the table, and then I would have had to make a scene as I shifted them closer.
Not that I wanted to be closer to Edward, but I didn’t fancy shouting my apology across the lit candelabra and huge arrangement of dishes that are sure to arrive courtesy of Marie.
It’s intimate, but preferable to the gulf that exists between Edward and I.
The man himself pulls out a chair for me and my stomach comes alive. I feel as if a colony of ants are having a rave in there and I cover it with my palm, lower myself into my seat, while he takes the chair opposite.
I haven’t eaten since this morning in the café, before he arrived, but now I can’t imagine eating anything until I get my apology out of the way.
I open my mouth and James walks in, followed by Mrs McDougall and Marie, all carrying several dishes.
‘Wine?’ Edward asks me.
‘Please.’
He gives James a nod and the man puts down the food he’s carrying and does the honours. I grab my glass the moment it’s full and take a satisfying gulp. Both men eye me, passing judgement I’m sure, but I don’t care. I need this.
Just as Edward needs my apology...even if he doesn’t want to hear it.