“Come in.” She took his hand and led him through the light-drenched entryway into the main living area. Music drifted over hidden speakers. Low but discernible percussion of steel drums, acoustic guitar, and Jack Johnson singing about how maybe pretty much always meant no.
He couldn’t say if any of the furnishings differed from those in place when his aunt and uncle had owned the property, but the wall of retractable glass doors showcasing an endless expanse of sky and sea still eclipsed everything else in the room—except the woman in front of him.
She turned to face him and glanced down. “What’s in the bag?”
“Several things I carefully selected for tonight.” He placed it on an end table.
Her gaze stayed on the bag. She rested a knuckle against her chin. “Do I get to look?”
“Buy me a drink, and we’ll see.”
The comeback earned him a quick smile. Curiosity still shone in her eyes, but she shrugged and crossed the room. “Is wine okay with you? I just opened a bottle.” She tipped her head toward the glass doors.
He didn’t actually need the drink, but she’d obviously made some selections of her own, and he was happy to play along. He followed her out to the patio and leaned against the railing while she lifted a chilled bottle from an ice bucket and poured two glasses. When she approached and handed him one, he slid his arm around her and settled her against him. Behind her the sun hung low over the water, and the sky blushed pink in the last hour before sunset. “Did you receive the other items I carefully selected for tonight?”
She smiled into her glass, but the unexpected bonus was the pink that seeped into her cheeks, turning them the same shade as the sky. “I did.”
He skimmed his hand along the back of the dress. “Do I get to look?”
“Buy me a drink, and we’ll see.”
He clinked his glass to hers. “You’ve already got a drink.” Then he took a sip of his before setting the glass on the railing and folding her in both of his arms. “How about a dance?”
“How about one?” She put her glass aside as well and looped her wrists behind his neck. The move lifted her breasts, shifting their softness against his chest. He pressed her closer, to torture them both a little more, and swayed her in time to a song with a reggae vibe about a girl with a red dress on.
After a few seconds of silence she let out a sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. He brought her even closer. Less of a seduction than a straight-up cuddle, but she tightened her arms around h
im and held on. He dipped his chin, kissed her temple, and then asked the first thing that popped into his mind. “How’s Mom?”
Okay, not true. The question had been festering since last night, but he regretted asking immediately because her spine stiffened.
“I am so sorry about last night,” she told the knot of his tie.
“Not a problem.” And somehow he pulled off the response, though a big part of his brain insisted it actually was a problem. “I know you weren’t expecting them until this evening.”
She sighed again—a less than content sound this time—and lifted her head. “I wasn’t expecting her at all.”
“Surprise.”
“Extreme surprise. My mom didn’t know my father was coming, and I’m sure he has no idea she’s here. I’m not supposed to let that kind of thing happen, but I wasn’t attending to my messages this week as diligently as I normally do. Anyway, it’s not your problem, but I am sor—”
“Ever considered letting them handle their separation?” His own mother’s voice filled his mind, reprimanding him for interrupting, but regret, or manners, weren’t what he wanted from her. He wanted to know about her life and the things that worried her. More importantly, he wanted her to want him to know, and to trust him enough to tell him.
Her eyes found his and locked there for a long moment. He could practically hear her internal debate. Finally, she propped what she probably considered a jaded smile on her face—but the weariness of it broke his heart—and shook her head. “I guess I feel guilty if I don’t. Given the age gap between my older brother and me, I’ve always suspected I was a save-the-marriage baby. In a weird way, I suppose I have. My default role has been enabling them to not deal with each other, and that keeps the peace, not to mention the status quo.”
“Their relationship isn’t your responsibility. Don’t take on the stress.” Of course, he’d dragged her right back into the stress by bringing it up.
Her shrug fell short of casual. “We all have stress to deal with. I’m sure you deal with it, too”—she looked at him uncertainly—“up on the space station?”
Was this an invitation to correct the backstory, or a request to stay within the confines of their script? He couldn’t read her. But he could read that the conversation was making her uptight as hell.
Lead with your established strength.
Right. For once his mind and his dick were in complete agreement when it came to this woman. He slid his foot between hers and pressed his hand to the small of her back, basically stranding her against him. “I’ve got a bagful of ways to relieve stress, Czarina. Would you like me to demonstrate?”
…
Arden could count on one hand the moments she’d stood at a crossroads in her life. The time the nanny had been over an hour late picking her up from school, and the principal had asked whether they should call her mother or her father. The time a seemingly sweet vineyard owner from Seattle had called her “just to see what’s up” a little too quickly after she’d received a worrisome threat. And now, when Nick sidestepped her question and shifted them back into the safe zone of sex.