Their eyes met while he tucked the throw back where it belonged.
Making him realize what he was doing. The familiarity of the act.
He let go of the blanket. Drew back to his side of the stairway, even though that put only a couple more inches between them. His pulse throbbed, his body all too aware of hers now. What the hell was he thinking?
“Sounds like you were penalized for succeeding.” He closed his eyes for a second and still saw her pale blue gaze in his memory. Her full, soft mouth.
And all he could think about was her penning a steamy book. Did she consider moments like this worthy of writing about, or was her novel full of more heated encounters? His body responded so strongly to that thought, he couldn’t will away the reaction.
“The show’s producers were looking for promotion angles the whole time. I happened to be a workable story for them as a so-called “backstabber,” and they sold it with selective footage editing.” She tipped her head against the spindles of the banister. “I don’t necessarily have a problem with that, since I signed on for it, but I never imagined such a backlash over a television show.”
He watched her toy with the fringe on the blanket that rested along one arm, and tried to rein himself in. He wanted to kiss her clothes off and explore what was underneath. To stretch her out right here and cover her. But he focused on her words instead, ignoring the heat coming off him in waves. She struck him as a woman who kept a tight rein on her passions.
“So you want to be more anonymous here.” Sonoma wasn’t some isolated hill country in the middle of nowhere, but then again, she wouldn’t have the same notoriety as in L.A. “Just because of the show? Or because of the book, too?” His voice cracked. Not like a teen’s. More like a parched man craving water. Or craving a woman. “Have you written others?”
“No,” she said quickly, gesturing with the fringe. “This is a first.”
He wanted to know more about the book, but she wasn’t volunteering. Memories of her running out of the den, her laptop clutched to her chest, returned. This was a more reticent side of Miranda and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. Did he make her nervous? He’d never been the world’s most eloquent guy, but he definitely had never scared off a woman.
And no matter how much he was feeling the heat right now, he had the distinct impression that Miranda was feeling tense over on her side of the stairs. So he stuffed his attraction deeper and tried to keep her there, keep her talking, even though he’d rather be kissing her.
Thankfully, he still had enough presence of mind to formulate a question and hold up his end of the conversation.
“Do you really think you could be happy running a tearoom in a place like this?”
* * *
WAS HE ACTUALLY considering selling to me?
I licked my lips and thought about the best way to answer. It would be unwise to jump on him and shout “Yes! Yes!” at the top of my lungs. But part of me wanted to. Especially because I sensed—hoped, really—that he was as turned on right now as I was. Or was that wishful thinking on my part?
Unfortunately, I could not be more clueless about guys. Nice guys, anyway. I knew plenty about losers.
Whatever Damien’s mood, I was grateful for the question, since it kept us talking. I wasn’t ready to go to bed when my thoughts were so full of this sexy, compelling man.
“I would love living up here,” I assured him. “Hollywood was fun for a while—especially when I was eighteen and fresh from the Midwest. But I grew up in a rural setting and that feels more like home to me. Except...” How much to say about my past? “...I’m not close to my family or anything. So I don’t have any desire to go back there.”
That was true enough. My parents had a strong preference for my older sister. But the bigger issue had been Rick drooling on me and making free with my person even after he’d gotten engaged to Nina. Counseling a few years ago helped me see the way the guy had manipulated me, taking advantage of my youth and insecurities about my weight. I’d had a lot of guilt over what happened between us, which accounted for some of the messed up issues I had with guys now. Of course, knowing that rationally didn’t just “fix” the problem. But my book—Shaelynn’s story—was helping me with some of that.
I’d progressed to the point where I thought about sex more. And meeting Damien had definitely fast-forwarded the whole process.
“We have that in common. I’m definitely not close to my folks, either.” Damien’s jaw went tight. I could see that even though he was staring straight ahead.