Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
She groaned. “I knew you were listening.”
He cautiously approached and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Of course, I was. How else am I supposed to know what you’re feeling? You have the communication skills of a locked door and the emotional availability of a witness in protective custody.”
She flung the other half of her whoopie pie at him, and he ducked. “Now you’ll have to clean that up.”
“I’m gonna leave it. Just to make you twitch.”
“Fine, but it’s chocolate and Cordelia’s probably going to eat it.”
“Oh, I’m Soren. I’ve got an answer for everything.” She pushed him out of her way and grabbed a paper towel.
When she threw the smashed whoopie pie in the trash, he stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to the back of her head. “You know I really like you, too.”
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she turned and looked at him. This man had breached her inner sanctum, planted his flag in her heart, pillaged her insides, and shifted something inside of her she couldn’t seem to put back. She used to be hard and tough. Now, she was a fluttering pile of mush.
“You’re a real problem, you know that?”
He laughed. “Well, I’m your problem. And you’re mine. Get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“Dinner? In the public? With the people?”
“Yes, dinner.”
Were they actually doing this? Her heart pinched in a not-so-unpleasant way. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had taken her on a real date. “Dressy or casual?”
“Whatever you wear will be fine.”
He really needed to stop saying things like that. Her wardrobe wasn’t refined like his, and if he didn’t give her some sort of guidance, she’d wind up embarrassing him.
“I need a shower.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
There he went again, with more of that niceness.
She left him downstairs with Cordelia while she took a quick rinse. The two of them were working on their trust issues. Cordelia preferred to sit on Soren’s lap, which he thought was a show of trust, but really it was stage one in chihuahua domination.
Wedging her head under his hand was stage two—grooming a human servant. If he stopped petting her, she’d growl, and if he stood, she’d bark. Soren was quickly learning to keep a hand on Cordelia at all times, and Cordelia was learning he wasn’t so bad to have around after all.
Dressed in a simple black dress, a burnt orange pashmina, and her favorite black boots, she returned downstairs to find the two cozied up on the couch. Soren’s stare dragged slowly from the heels of her boots to her eyes, his gaze caressing every inch in between.
“Wow. You look great.” He nudged Cordelia off his lap and stood. She immediately barked.
“Deelie, hush.”
He crossed the room slowly, not stopping until he kissed her. “Mm, maybe we eat in instead, and I keep you all for myself. You look too good to share with others.”
“No way. You promised me dinner, and I plan to eat.” She checked her clutch to make sure she had enough cash and some extra lip gloss for the night. “Where are you taking me?”
He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. And she was pretty sure he was sporting a semi. “I’d like to take you to bed.”
“Soren.”
His fingers trailed down her arms, encircling her wrists. “There’s a place just outside of Hideaway Bay called the Gilded Heron. I just have to stop home and check on King. He was with the dog sitter all day, but she left a couple hours ago.”
“You hired a dog-sitter?”
“Of course. He’s only three.”
His concern was sweet.
As they left the house, he took her key out of her hand to lock the door for her. They walked to his car, and he helped her inside. He even buckled her seatbelt.
She laughed nervously, unused to others doing such things for her.
“What’s funny?”
“You. I can do that myself, you know.”
He shrugged. “I like taking care of you.”
Those were very dangerous words.
They drove to his house, and she waited in the car while he ran in to check on the dog. When he returned, he looked refreshed. He’d changed his suit jacket and restyled his hair.
“Did you shave?”
“I touched up.”
She told herself his effort was the result of being a control freak, but her heart wasn’t so sure, and as it suffered another little pinch, she found herself hiding a smile.
The Gilded Heron was an old, converted captain’s house on the water. From the outside, it was a rustic fortress. Inside, it was a romantic hideaway.
Warm, low light separated shadows into secret corners, and white linen draped the tables, each one widely spaced so conversations could remain private. Candlelight flickered from brass sconces, and fires crackled softly in various hearths throughout the old home. Antique paintings reflected in a dark wall of windows facing the harbor.