Читать книгу How To Seduce An Heiress: The Reluctant Heiress / Pride After Her Fall / Project: Runaway Heiress - Heidi Betts, Lucy Ellis - Страница 9

Setting aside his phone to strip to his briefs, Garrett replayed the night, thinking of the first moment he had seen Sophia at the gallery. In high heels, she had to be six feet tall. Her midnight hair was straight and fell freely over her shoulders in a black cascade.

A dramatic black-and-white dress left one tan shoulder bare. The slit in the straight skirt revealed long, shapely legs with each step. Her mother’s Native American blood had given her smooth, olive skin, beautiful raven hair and her prominent cheekbones, yet she bore a striking resemblance to Will and reminded Garrett of Zach in her forthright, practical manner.

From the first moment she had captivated him. Dancing with her had fanned his desire until he ached to kiss her.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

While he hadn’t lied to her, he had still deceived her by not mentioning his ties to the Delaneys and his mission in Houston. At the moment she could be at her computer, looking him up and discovering he was an executive with Delaney Enterprises. A chill slithered through Garrett, turning him to ice. By breakfast time, she might already know the truth.

He didn’t want her to find out that way. He wanted to tell her about his relationship with the Delaneys himself. But if he did, he wouldn’t see her again, and neither the Delaneys nor she would get their inheritances.

His thoughts drifted to her soft, lush curves, her silky, midnight hair and her large, dark brown eyes …

After twenty more minutes of tossing and turning, he went to his indoor pool and swam laps, trying to stop thinking about Sophia yet wanting morning to come so he could see her again.

What if he did tell her about the Delaneys at breakfast? Maybe they already had enough of a connection that she’d agree to meet them.

Who was he kidding? Anyone who felt strongly enough to turn down billions wouldn’t change her mind because of a few kisses and one exciting night.

Glumly, he executed a flip-turn and mulled it over as he swam another lap. Three billion dollars—no one could turn down money like that, yet she had. Why? Was her anger at Argus Delaney that deep?

From what the P.I. had unearthed, Argus had continued seeing her mother until she died. At the end of her life, he had done everything to keep her comfortable, taking care of her medical bills and seeing that she had the best care possible. Why was Sophia so bitter? She didn’t seem a bitter, grudge-holding type. Sophisticated, intelligent, an inner core of steel, obviously hardworking, optimistic—all were qualities that he would use to describe her. It seemed difficult to imagine that she would have enough anger and hate to give up a three-billion-dollar inheritance.

He had to confess or risk Sophia discovering on her own the deception that grew larger with every passing hour.

Yet if he told her now, it was the end of what they’d only just started. And the termination of hope for the Delaneys.

Trying to shut off his nagging thoughts, he swore and swam harder.

It was another half hour before he was dry, sitting in his bedroom and staring out the window. Sleep eluded him. Worse, he was no closer to a decision about what he would do in a few hours when he saw her. Either way—tell her or wait—their relationship was doomed.

In spite of his disturbed sleep, the next morning he was eager to see Sophia again. His uncustomary inability to reach a decision about her added to his restlessness. Before he left to pick her up, Garrett phoned Will and gave him an update.

“Fantastic. So she can be civil and you like her,” Will said. “That’s promising.”

“Will, for her to cut all of you off and lose her inheritance, her anger must run really deep. I can’t imagine being able to persuade her to change her mind.”

“We’re counting on you to work a miracle. You’re already getting close to her.”

“Not that close,” Garrett snapped and then curbed his impatience. “I wanted you to know that I’ll be with her tonight so don’t call.”

“I’ll wait until you call me. You’re doing great—I knew you would.”

“Will, stop being the ultimate optimist. She doesn’t have a clue yet about my connections. Everything will change when she learns the truth.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Thank heavens women can’t resist you.”

Garrett had to laugh. “Oh, hell. Goodbye, Will. I’ll call when I can.”

Garrett ended the call and tried to get Will out of his thoughts and stop worrying about him. As he headed to his car, he focused on Sophia, his thoughts heating him to a torrid level.

When Sophia opened the door, her heart missed beats. Dressed in a charcoal suit and matching tie, Garrett looked as handsome as he had the night before.

His warm gaze roamed over her and he smiled. “You look gorgeous,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied, thinking about all the different outfits she had tried on before settling on a plain red linen suit. Her hair was tied behind her head with a matching red scarf and he gave it a faint tug.

“Very pretty, but if we were going out for the evening, I would untie that scarf and let your hair free, which is the way I like it.”

“But I won’t,” she replied lightly, locking up and walking to his car with him. “I have to go to the gallery and it needs to be tied and out of my way.”

As he held the car door, she noticed he watched her legs when she climbed in. He closed the door and went around to slide behind the wheel. “So how did you sleep?” he asked.

“Great.”

“I must be slipping if my kisses didn’t keep you awake a little.”

“You think I would tell you if I had stayed awake all night?”

As they both smiled, she felt the sparks between them, that electrifying current that had sizzled the whole time they were together last night. She hoped he never realized what a strong impact he had on her. She had a busy life and a time-consuming career. Garrett had come into her life at a time when she was trying to make a name in the art world. She didn’t want him to realize how he affected her. She didn’t want to lose control of her emotions.

At the restaurant, they were seated on an outdoor patio—the breezes were cool, the sun bright. As soon as they had ordered and were alone, Garrett smiled. “So when will my painting be delivered?”

“This afternoon.”

“Excellent. Let me pick you up, we’ll go to my house to hang the painting and then I’ll take you out.”

Her heartbeat quickened yet again. “You really don’t waste time, do you,” she replied.

“I’ll pick you up around seven. So how much time do you spend in New Mexico?” he asked.

“Most of the summer. It’s cool at night and I enjoy being there part of the year. Do you have a home anywhere else?”

“My home is in Dallas and I have a condo in Colorado because I like to ski. I also have a place in Switzerland.”

“Nice.”

“Painting is a reclusive occupation. Do you get out much in Santa Fe?”

“Sure, when I want to. But I enjoy the quiet and solitude. Chalk that up to being an only child.” As Sophia talked, she couldn’t help but study Garrett. His brown hair had been neatly combed, but the breeze soon shifted the locks and they tumbled over his forehead. His rough handsomeness—his hawk nose and firm jaw—and his spellbinding gray eyes fascinated her. When he began to speak, her gaze lowered to his mouth and she recalled his kisses, not hearing what he was saying as heat suffused her and the temperature of the cool morning changed.

He touched her chin with his fingers. “I don’t believe you’re hearing a word I’m saying. What could you possibly be thinking about?” he asked in a husky voice as if he guessed exactly why she hadn’t heard a word he had said.

“My mind drifted, sorry,” she said, embarrassed, looking into his knowing gaze. She felt the heat flush her cheeks and couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“So, Sophia, where did it drift? What were you thinking?”

She gave up because he knew full well what she had been thinking about.

“I don’t think you need me to tell you that, do you, Garrett?” He gave her a slight smile as she changed the subject. “Do you travel much with your job?”

To her relief he moved on with the conversation and the moment passed. But she suspected it had not been forgotten.

After breakfast Garrett took her to the gallery and parked beside her car. As he walked her to the door, he said, “We’re early. May I come inside with you in case your building is empty?”

“Actually, people should start arriving in about ten minutes, and there is a guard outside.”

“I’d rather stay until someone does arrive.”

“Garrett, it’s safe, and I’ll lock the door once I’m inside.” She turned to unlock the door and reached inside to switch off the alarm. When it became clear that he had no intention of leaving, she headed down the hall and said over her shoulder, “I’ll show you my office.”

She stepped into her office and he followed, taking in the beige room with bright splashes of color from her paintings. He studied the paintings for a moment, and then turned to her, making her pulse skip. “I expect people any minute now.”

“I’ll wait and be certain. Why don’t you give me the key and I’ll unlock the front and switch on lights.”

She handed him the key and he caught her wrist, drawing her to him. Her “no” died on her lips before she ever uttered a sound. His arm banded her waist and he looked down at her. “I didn’t sleep well and I suspect you didn’t either. This is what I’ve wanted since I woke up this morning.” His mouth covered hers, his lips warm and firm as he kissed her.

Her heart thudded while heat made the room a furnace. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she combed her fingers through his thick hair while their kiss turned to fire. Forgetting her surroundings, she held him tightly.

She never heard the car but Garrett raised his head and stepped away. “I hear one of your employees.”

Garrett’s erratic breathing matched hers. She felt disoriented, trying to ignore her desire and get her focus off Garrett and back to the real world.

He left to unlock the front for her just as she heard a car door slam. One of her male employees came in the back door, and Sophia introduced him to Garrett when he returned to the office.

“I’ll pick you up at home tonight. How’s six? Too early?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she said, still slightly dazed, thinking six o’clock sounded eons away. “Thanks again for breakfast.” He gave her an incredible smile, said goodbye and closed the door behind him. Sophia felt like she was in a daze until her phone rang.

“You were out late last night,” Edgar said.

“Hello to you, too, Edgar,” she said, amused. “I can’t recall having a curfew. I don’t think this is what Mom had in mind when she asked you to look out for me.”

“I think it’s exactly what she had in mind. You didn’t answer the text I sent you this morning.”

“Sorry, Edgar. I went out for breakfast.”

“Uh-huh. With the Cantrell fellow?”

She laughed. “Yes, with the Cantrell fellow—Garrett, to be exact.”

“Oh, dear,” Edgar said, sighing audibly. “I suppose I will have to remember his name. So you’re seeing him again?”

“Correct. Am I going to have to check in, Mom 2?”

He chuckled. “No. I’ll keep tabs. Just answer your text messages.”

“Yes, Edgar.”

“Last night seemed a huge success.”

“I’ll hear shortly when everyone arrives at work.”

“I’m certain I’m right. Have lunch with me and we’ll celebrate your success.”

“Thanks. That’ll be nice.” She made arrangements with him and a minute later, her assistant appeared to show her the receipts from the gallery.

Last night had indeed been a success—in more ways than one.

Sophia pulled on a blue wool-and-crepe sweater with a deep V-neck, a straight, short skirt and matching pumps. She put her hair up in a French twist. She was nervous, anxious, excited.

Get a grip, she silently lectured herself.

It wasn’t easy. Garrett captivated her more than any other man she had known. He was exciting, handsome, interested in her life. If she let herself think of kissing him, she could get lost in memories of the previous night. But she didn’t want that to happen. She needed to stay in control.

When she was ready, she studied herself thoroughly to make certain she was at her best for the evening.

When she opened the door to face him, her heart raced, despite all her commands to the contrary. In a navy suit, he looked breathtakingly handsome and commanding. His smile warmed her as his gaze drifted slowly over her.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said in a husky voice that was like a caress. She smiled, glad for the effort she had taken to get ready. “You have a nice home,” he said.

“Sometime you’ll get a tour, but right now, we’re headed for your house.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Shall we go?”

Nodding, she closed the door behind her, hearing the lock click in place. Garrett took her arm to escort her to a waiting limo where the driver held the door while she climbed inside. She was surprised Garrett wasn’t driving. Did he always travel in limos? Was she seeing another facet of his life? Garrett sat facing her.

“How were the gallery showings?”

“Very good. I’m gratified. I’ll paint whether people buy my work or not, but when my paintings sell, I feel good about it. I keep the ones I don’t want to sell. Some are just for me and they’re not going to a gallery.” As she talked, she was intensely aware of Garrett’s smoky gaze on her. His fascinating gray eyes and knowledge of what his kisses could do kept her tingling with anticipation.

“If it suits you, we’ll go out to my house to hang the painting. When we’re through, we’ll have dinner.”

“Sounds like a great evening.”

In a short time they drove through an exclusive residential area with acres of tall pines and estates set back out of sight. Black wrought-iron gates swung open to allow them entrance.

She was curious about his home, interested in finding out more about him. When the trees cleared, she saw the sprawling, three-story stone mansion.

“Garrett, your home is beautiful.” A long narrow pool was centered in the formal gardens in the front yard. Various fountains held splashing water and sunlight spilled an orange glow over the house. Tall, symmetrical Italian pines stood at opposite ends of the wide porch that led to massive double doors.

The limo halted and the driver held the door as they exited. The door opened before they reached it and Garrett introduced her. “Sophia, meet Terrence, who is my right-hand man. He’s butler and house manager and keeps things running smoothly here. Terrence, this is Ms. Rivers.”

“Welcome, Ms. Rivers,” Terrence said, stepping back and holding the door wide.

Garrett took her arm as they entered.

“Somehow this surprises me. I imagined you in a different type of home,” she said, realizing Garrett had far more wealth than she had thought.

“Maybe I better not ask what kind.”

“Something less formal, maybe more Western. Although this mansion has enough rooms to have all types of decor.”

“I’ll show you my shop and then we’ll find the perfect spot for your painting.”

He led her down the wide, elegant hall with potted palms and oils in ornate frames hanging on the walls. They entered another wing of the mansion and finally turned into a large paneled room that smelled of sawdust. The terrazzo floor was rust-colored with dark brown stones. Beautiful pieces of furniture in various stages were scattered throughout the room. The framework for an ornate credenza stood on a worktable, above which tools hung. One wall held handcrafted cabinets containing more tools.

She walked around the room, inhaling the sawdust smell, taking in the furniture in progress, lumber, power saws, a stack of sawhorses. “This is what you love, isn’t it?”

He stood watching her and nodded. “You’re the first woman who has ever been down here.”

“I’m honored,” she said.

“Sophia,” he said and stopped. He stared at her intently.

“Yes?”

“I just wondered what you think about all this. Although I suppose I need to show you a finished product before I ask you that,” he replied.

She had the feeling that he had been about to say something else, and she wondered what it was. The slight frown on his face made her curiosity deepen but she was certain if she asked, she would not get the answer.

She walked to a table to run her finger along the smooth finish. “This is beautiful, Garrett.”

“That still needs a lot of work. It’s intended to be a reproduction of a French walnut refectory table. I also enjoy history.”

“So do you do this when you can’t sleep?” she asked.

“Do you paint when you can’t sleep?” he said, by way of answering.

She smiled at him.

“C’mon. I’ll show you some finished pieces.”

As they made their way out into the hall, she still felt as if he towered over her—a unique sensation and one she enjoyed.

They paused by an elegant reproduction of a 19th-century French sofa with embroidered rosebuds in beige damask upholstery. “Here’s a finished piece,” he said.

She had expected his work to be nice, but this was beyond nice. “Garrett, this looks like a well-preserved antique. It looks like the real thing.” She ran her fingers over the smooth wood. “This is truly beautiful,” she said, impressed. “You could make another fortune from your craft.”

He smiled. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” he said. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You do look stunning, Sophia. Do you mind?” he said while he reached up and pulled a pin out of her hair. Locks spilled on her shoulders as she gazed up at him.

He stood close, removing pins, causing a gentle tingling sensation on her scalp. She looked at his mouth and her heart drummed. She wanted him to kiss her right now and was tempted to pull him to her.

Instead, she kept quiet while Garrett finished and her hair cascaded across her shoulders. She moved her head slightly, shaking out her hair and letting it swirl across her shoulders. She still watched him while he gazed into her eyes. His attention shifted to her mouth.

“Garrett, show me more of your work,” she said, her voice breathless. She wanted his kisses, yet she felt she should resist and have some control. Garrett had come into her life like a whirlwind and she needed to show some resistance before he totally uprooted her career and schedules. Deep down, she had an instinctive feeling that Garrett was more than just an appealing man who excited her.

“Better yet, come with me and I’ll show you where I want to hang your painting. There are two possible rooms—one is the billiard room, the other is a large living area. I entertain there and it’s not as formal as some of the other rooms.”

She followed him down the wide hall. “You really need a map for this mansion.”

He smiled. “Your place wasn’t small either.”

“I’m so accustomed to it, I don’t give a thought to the size.”

“Nor do I.” He motioned toward open double doors. She entered a large room that had two glass walls. One end of the room bowed out in a sweeping glass curve, giving the room light and a sensation of being outdoors. The other end featured a massive brick fireplace. Leather furniture and dark fruitwood lent a masculine touch.

“This is a livable room. Very comfortable,” he said. “I’m in here a lot.” He led her across the room and she saw a familiar painting she had done a year earlier.

“I like it there,” she said, looking at her painting on his wall with others in a grouping. “A prominent spot in a room you like and live in. Now you can think of me when you see it,” she added lightly, teasing him.

“I’ll always think of you when I see it,” he said, his solemn tone giving a deeper meaning to his words.

“Sure you will,” she said, laughing. “Is this the room where you’d like to hang the other painting?”

“Yes, possibly. Where do you think it should go?”

Aware of his attention on her, she strolled around the room, selecting and then rejecting spots until she stopped. “I think this is a good place.”

“It is. One other possibility you should consider is over the hearth. It’s a sizable painting. I think it fits this room.”

“That would be the most prominent spot in the room,” she said, surprised and pleased.

“I think it would look good there.” He shed his coat. “Let me hold it up and see what you think.”

She watched as he picked up the painting and held it in place.

She smiled at him. “It looks great there. Are you sure?”

He grinned. “I’ll get tools and hang it.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Let’s have a drink and you can supervise the hanging.”

“I can get the drinks,” she said, moving to the bar in the corner of the room. “What would you like?”

“I think I’ll have beer.”

“And I’ll have red wine,” she stated. While she got a wineglass and opened a bottle, he disappeared. By the time he returned, she was on a leather couch in front of the fireplace with the drinks on a table. He placed an armload of tools on a chair and pulled off his tie. He twisted free the top buttons of his shirt—something so ordinary and simple yet it filled her with heat and she longed to get up and unbutton the rest for him. He picked up his beer, raising the bottle high.

“Here’s to improving the looks of my house by adding a Sophia Rivers painting.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, standing and picking up her drink to touch his cold bottle. Again, when she looked into his eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Each time they almost kissed, her longing intensified. How soon would they be in each other’s arms?

Sipping her red wine, she stepped back. His gaze remained locked on hers. Watching her, he sipped his beer and then turned away, breaking the spell.

He picked up the painting. “I’ll hold this and you tell me when I have it in exactly the right spot.” He held the painting high, and then set it down. “Just a minute. I can put myself back together later,” he said as he took off his gold cuff links and folded back his immaculate cuffs. “Now, let’s try this again.”

Slightly disheveled, he looked sexy, appealing. She tried to focus on the painting, but was having a difficult time keeping her attention off the man.

“To the right and slightly higher,” she said. After several adjustments, she nodded. “That’s perfect.”

He leaned back to look while he held the picture. Setting it down, he picked up chalk to mark a place on the bricks before pulling the tape measure out.

She sipped her wine while he worked. In an amazingly short time he had her painting hanging in place and he stepped away.

“Let’s look at it.”

He took her arm and they walked across the large room to study the result of his work. She was aware of the warmth of him beside her. He looked at his watch. “Shall we go eat now, or should I just throw some steaks on the grill?”

“If we eat here, it’s fine with me.”

He leaned down to look directly into her eyes. “Are you certain you don’t mind my cooking?”

“Now I’m curious,” she said. “I’ll view it as an adventure.”

“Steaks at home it is.” He draped his arm across her shoulders. “It’s a nice evening. We’ll eat on the terrace.”

They carried their drinks outside, and Sophia was again surprised by the house.

“This isn’t a terrace, Garrett—it’s another kitchen, plus a terrace, plus a living area, plus a pool.”

“With Houston’s weather, it works well through the fall and winter,” he replied, crossing to a stainless-steel gas grill built into a stone wall. In minutes he had the grill fired up and he sat with her on comfortable chairs in the outdoor living room.

“So where are you going, Sophia? What do you want out of life?”

“To pursue painting. To do charity work. I’d like to help with literacy. Also, try to do something to aid in getting more opportunities in school for children to take art and learn art appreciation. I want to open a gallery in New Mexico.”

“Marriage and family?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think about that. I’m accustomed to being on my own. I don’t ever want to be in the situation my mother was in—in love with my dad who never returned that love fully.”

“Your dad—you knew him?”

“What I told you last night wasn’t completely accurate. He was around off and on all my life,” she said, feeling a stab of pain and anger that had never left her. “My dad wouldn’t marry my mother. He practically ignored me except for financial support.”

“You said he was married?” Garrett said.

“Not by the time I was a teenager, but he didn’t want to get tied down again. Whenever he came to visit, it tore her up each time he left. She would cry for several days. He was the only man she ever loved,” Sophia stated bitterly. “He had a family—boys. He would go home to them. I couldn’t do anything to help her or stop her tears. When I was little, we both cried. I cried for her and she cried over him.”

“That’s tough,” Garrett said. “He ignored you?”

“In his way he provided for me. But looking back, I don’t think he knew how to deal with a little girl. He brought me all kinds of presents. I can remember reaching an age where I smashed some of them to bits. Mom just started giving them to charities. I didn’t want anything from him.”

“How old were you then?”

“Probably about eight or nine. He was polite to me and Mom saw to it that I was polite to him, but we weren’t together a whole lot. He never talked to me other than hello and goodbye. I rarely heard him say my name. When I was little I wondered whether he knew it. Often, I would be sent to my grandmother’s, which I loved, or out with my nanny when he was coming. Worked fine for me. I didn’t want to see him.”

“Yet your mother always loved him.”

“She did. And I don’t ever want to fall into that trap. The best way to avoid it is to keep relationships from becoming too deep.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t base everything on the actions of your father.”

“That’s the legacy he left me—a deep fear of any relationship that isn’t totally committed.”

“Sorry, Sophia,” Garrett said with a somber note.

“How’d we get on this?” she asked, wanting to avoid thinking and talking about her blood father. She wanted him out of her life and thoughts as much as humanly possible.

“I’m interested in your life and finding out about you. Did he ever try to make it up to you?”

She thought of the inheritance Argus Delaney had left her. “He always showered Mom with money. Money was his solution for everything. He paid her medical bills, but by the time the end of her life came, we had enough money to manage on our own. No matter what happened, she always loved him. And I’ve always hated him,” she said.

“At least he was good to her,” Garrett said gently. “And generous.”

“I suppose I should be grateful, but I can’t be. He left money when he died—money I don’t want one penny of,” she said.

“He’s gone. He’ll never know whether you take his money or refuse it. Why not take it and enjoy it? It should be yours.”

She shook her head, feeling the familiar current of fury that she had lived with as long as she could remember.

“I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“You could do a lot with your inheritance.”

“I’ll never touch it,” she said, trying to shift her focus off the past and onto Garrett, thinking he would be fascinating to paint. His rugged features gave him a distinctive individualism and his unique gray eyes were unforgettable. Desire stirred and once again, she struggled to pay attention to their conversation.

He was studying her intently. “Sophia—” He paused, his eyes holding secrets. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What? What were you going to say?”

He looked away. “I’ll check on the steaks.” She watched him stride to the cooker and she wondered for the second time this evening what it was he’d been about to say to her. Probably more advice about taking her inheritance, which she’d already heard enough of from Edgar.

“The steaks are ready.”

She stood, going with him to help get tossed salads, potatoes and water on the table. Soon they sat on the terrace to eat thick, juicy steaks.

“It’s a wonder you ever travel for pleasure. It’s gorgeous here and you have every convenience.”

“I like it here, but I like my other places, too.”

“I guess I can understand since I enjoy Santa Fe and Taos and even the cabin in the mountains as much as living in Houston.” She took a bite of her steak. “You’re a very good cook. The steak is delicious,” she said, surprised because he’d seemed to pay little attention to his cooking.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I should have watched you more closely. I invariably burn them.”

“You can watch me as closely as you want,” he replied with a twinkle.

“I opened the door for that one,” she said, smiling at him. “So how did you get into property management?” she asked, picking up her water glass to take a sip. A faint breeze caught his hair, blowing it gently. His hair was thick, and she thought about how it felt to run her fingers through it.

“My dad had the business,” he was saying. “He was into property management and finance. I was raised to follow in his footsteps and groomed to take over his businesses.”

“Businesses? There are others?”

“Yes, but I’m not directly involved in most of them. Hardly involved at all. They’re investments.”

“And that leaves you free to play around,” she said. “So what do you actually do?” she asked, flirting with him while trying to satisfy her curiosity about him and his life.

He smiled at her. “More than play around, although I hope to do that tonight. Dinner—get to know you—kiss you. That’s what I want to do in the next few hours,” he said, his voice deepening and making her tingle.

“I don’t really know you. Do you work, Garrett, or does the playboy lifestyle fit you?”

“I work, but not tonight, so we can get away from that subject. You aren’t eating, and I’ve lost my appetite for this steak. Let’s sit where it’s more comfortable to talk. We can take our drinks with us.”

She was leaving a half-eaten steak, yet she couldn’t resist his suggestion. Her interest in food had disappeared with Garrett’s flirting. He took her hand and she stood, going with him, her insides tingling the moment he touched her.

Garrett sat close on the couch. Her perfume was an exotic fragrance and he liked the faint scent. Her long hair was silky in his fingers as he twisted and toyed with the strands. She was stunning and he couldn’t get enough of her. And yet, he was racked with guilt.

When she had talked about Argus Delaney, Garrett felt awful that he wasn’t telling her the truth about who he was. Twice he had been on the verge, almost confessing and then pausing, waiting because it seemed the wisest course to follow. If he confessed the truth now, he was certain he would be finished. It was too soon, but knowing that didn’t ease his conscience.

“What about you and marriage?” she asked.

“I’m a workaholic, I suppose,” he said, stretching out his long legs. “I haven’t ever been deeply in love,” he admitted. “I don’t feel ready for marriage or getting tied down. Right now, my life is devoted to my work.”

“Pretty ordinary attitude when someone is tied up in work,” she stated.

As he gazed into her eyes, he wondered what it would be like to come home to her every night—to make love to her night and day. His thoughts surprised him. Sophia stirred him in a way no woman before her ever had. He had never had long-term thoughts or speculation about a woman before. Not even when he had been in a relationship. “I owe you an elegant dinner and dancing instead of sitting at my house and eating my cooking and helping me hang your painting,” he said, trying to get focused again on the present and stop imagining a future with her. That kind of thinking disturbed him. Because it was totally uncustomary.

“I’m enjoying the evening. You don’t owe me an elegant dinner,” she said. “This has been nice and you’re an interesting man, Garrett Cantrell.”

Garrett smiled at her. “You barely know me. And I lead an ordinary life.”

“Why do I doubt that statement? You’ve bought two of my paintings. That alone makes you interesting.”

“Next time we go to your house and I get to see where you paint,” he said.

“It’s a typical studio with brushes and paint smears. I don’t think it’s quite as interesting as your workshop.”

“If it’s yours, it’s interesting. Have you painted all your life?”

“Actually, yes. I loved drawing and painting. Of course, what little girl doesn’t?”

As she talked about painting when she was a child, his mind returned to the problem. He hated not telling her about the Delaneys, yet he had heard the bitterness, felt her anger smoldering. He wanted to be up front with her—his guilt was deepening by the minute.

He realized she was staring at him with a quizzical smile. “What?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard one word I’ve been saying, Garrett. Is there something you want to tell me? What are you thinking about?”

He focused on her lips before looking into her eyes again while desire consumed him. He didn’t want to admit the truth yet and the burden of guilt was becoming unbearable, but one way to avoid both was to stop her questions with kisses