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Chapter Four

The elevator opened and they emerged into a vestibule. Colt opened a door leading into a pale gray hallway with lovely artwork on the walls. They passed seven doors on both sides, and finally at the end of the hall, Colt stopped to open number 32-8.

Inside his condo, Anna didn’t know where to look first—the view of the city out the wall of windows, or the large living room with the stone fireplace, the dark brown leather couches and gorgeous rug and artifacts on the tables and paintings on the walls. On the side of the couch was a big playpen with a few toys inside. Above a couch was a gorgeous framed painting of a world map.

“The guest room is in there,” Colt said, pointing to an open door. “In the closet and dresser, you’ll find my sister’s things. Help yourself.”

“Okay on your own with the twins?” she asked.

“I can handle ten minutes,” he said, taking off his leather jacket. “Maybe fifteen.”

She laughed, but then realized he was serious. Hmm, perhaps I’ll spend this week showing your uncle how to care for kinder so that he’ll be able to handle a half hour. Or even a whole day. What do you say? she silently asked adorable Noah as she set him down in the playpen. Colt put his brother beside him, and the two began shaking their brightly colored little toys.

Without his jacket, she could once again see the muscles at work beneath Colt’s shirt, how the shirt disappeared into the waistband of his dark gray pants. There were fit Amish men, their muscles honed by construction work, but Anna had never seen anyone as sexy as Colt Asher.

He was staring at her—and she realized it was because she was staring at him. Eek, she thought, dragging her gaze away from his amazing body.

“Well, I’ll be quick then,” she said and disappeared into the room he’d indicated. She was grateful to have a moment alone, to collect herself. She was acting like the love-starved, romance-starved and, yes, let’s just put it out there, sex-starved woman she was. Oh, God, did Colt Asher know she was a virgin? He must know. But then again, he’d said he didn’t know much about Amish culture.

Sex before marriage was against their faith. Once, she and Caleb had come very close, and to be honest, she very likely would have had sex with him but he’d called a halt to things. “If I’m not the one for you, Anna, then don’t give yourself to me. I don’t want to cause you trouble down the road.”

She’d cried at that. That was how much he’d cared about her. But the supposed trouble down the road would only matter in the Amish world, if she chose to marry an Amish man. She didn’t tell Caleb that English men didn’t expect their wives to be virgins. At least they didn’t in the books she’d read. Women had boyfriends and lovers and varying levels of experience. Apparently, it all depended on the woman and how she felt about such matters. An English woman could have a different lover every day or a serious boyfriend or wait until marriage. Anna liked that. She would do what felt right to her. That was all she could go on.

She took a look around the guest room, which was nicely decorated. A bed with a blue-and-white quilt with stars embroidered. A bureau with a mirror, which she also recognized from her village’s marketplace in Grass Creek. She opened a drawer. T-shirts and sweaters.

She pulled out a soft cropped-to-the-waist V-necked red sweater and held it up against her in the mirror. There was a thin cotton camisole and she took that, too, then looked in the closet for pants. There was a black jersey wrap dress, a pair of black pants and two pairs of jeans. Luckily, neither was the “skinny” kind that she couldn’t imagine being able to breath in.

She took off her dress and put on the camisole, then the sweater, soft and fuzzy against her arms. She put on a pair of jeans, which did not fit like her daed’s overalls. They weren’t too tight but they certainly weren’t baggy. Or modest. She zipped up the zipper, something that was forbidden on Amish clothing, and snapped the snap.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her mouth dropped open.

She looked...like the women she saw in Grass Creek. She looked like an Englisher! The sweater and jeans showed off every curve she didn’t really know she had. The Amish didn’t have mirrors, which were viewed as promoting vanity, and so Anna only caught her reflection in shop windows in Grass Creek, or in mirrors in the stores she’d explore if there was time on market days. But she’d never seen herself in clothing like this. Clothing that made her feel...sexy.

She took her long hair out of the bun and let it fall.

There was a pair of heels and a pair of sneakers in the closet. Anna took off her boots and tried on both pairs. They fit! Anna kept on the comfortable navy blue sneakers, then once again stood before the mirror. As she stared at herself, a shadow crept where her joy had been.

“I don’t know this person,” she whispered to her reflection. She bit her lip and turned away. She started to take off the sweater and find something more...Amish. Even a big, button-down shirt would do, but then Anna looked in the mirror again. For the next week, you are this new person. And sometimes it’s not going to feel comfortable. Or familiar. That’s okay. That’s how you discover what does feel right. That’s how you discover who you really are.

And if after the week it doesn’t feel right? You put back on your high-necked dress that goes down to your ankles. You braid your hair and cover your head. And you go home.

She took a deep breath and stepped out, her suitcase now full of his sister’s belongings and her own Amish things. Colt was kneeling by the playpen, watching his nephews play. “I think that was just fifteen minutes.”

He turned toward her and stood up, staring, his mouth slightly open. “Anna. You’re...breathtaking.” He glanced down for a moment as though he hadn’t meant to say that.

She beamed, so happy, so excited that she didn’t even feel herself blush. “I feel like a completely different person.”

Dressed this way, she was a person who wanted to rush over to the man who’d just called her breathtaking and kiss him. She had no doubt that one kiss from Colt Asher would rock her entire world and make her knees truly weak, the way she’d read about in books.

He walked toward her and for a moment she wondered if he was going to reach for her and look deeply into her eyes and kiss her. Did that happen in real life? She was sure it did. Was he about to—

He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up. “My sister also texted the schedule for the babies,” he said. “Just in case. So dinnertime is right now. Both boys are on solid foods—jarred baby food.”

So much for the hot kiss. The weak knees. Colt Asher was not looking to marry, but she was sure he had relationships. Sex. He would likely not lay a finger on her, though. If she wanted a hot English affair with the FBI agent, she would have to make the first move.

Not that she was ready for that. It was one thing to fantasize. It was another to do it. And she had no idea what she could handle emotionally. Could she have an affair with Colt Asher when it would lead to nothing? Perhaps that was the point of a weeklong, scorching-hot English affair. Wild sex. Then it was over.

Except then what? She wasn’t necessarily going home after. Or staying in the English world. She didn’t know where she belonged. Until then, she should take care with herself. And her heart. And her body.

It was good that the Englisher was talking about baby food and schedules.

“Do you have groceries?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“I thought maybe you were one of those bachelors who didn’t cook.”

“I have a limited range, but I can certainly open a jar of baby food. And make an omelet and a steak. And pasta. Is there anything else anyway?”

She laughed. “There really isn’t. I could eat pasta every day for the rest of my life.”

“One day you’ll have tortellini in Rome,” he said.

She was touched he remembered that from their very first conversation outside her barn, that he’d been listening. “Maybe one day I will.”