Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

He was relieved to see her sense of humor flicker back to life, and he smiled in the darkness. “I’ll take you home.”

“I have a Doberman. I don’t need an escort.”

He ignored that. “I’m taking you home, and I won’t follow you in on one condition—”

“What?”

“You have dinner with me tomorrow and we talk properly then.”

“Last time I shared a meal with you I ended up baking cookies.”

“I’m not talking about dinner in a restaurant. I’m talking about christening my new kitchen.”

“You’re moving in?”

They’d arrived back at his car, and she slid into the passenger seat.

“I’m sleeping there tonight. On the floor.”

“If my memory serves me rightly, you have about ten bedrooms at your parents’ house. You don’t need to sleep on the floor.”

He almost told her then. Told her how it felt being in the house knowing his father was never going to walk through the door again.

Instead he focused on driving, negotiating the darkened lanes that led to her grandmother’s house.

He pulled up outside. Lights were burning in the downstairs windows, and he thought about the times he’d lurked by the gate at the back of the house, waiting for Fliss. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Does seven thirty work for you?”

“I’m not cooking for you, Carlyle. And if you value your health, you won’t push it.”

“I’ll do the cooking.”

“I have to babysit Grams.” There was a desperate note to her voice, as if she knew she was running out of excuses.

“That’s why I suggested seven thirty. Gives you time to settle her down.”

“She might need me.”

“You’ll be on the end of a phone.”

She unfastened her seat belt. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Once, but not anymore.

This time he wasn’t giving up until he got what he wanted.

And now, after months, maybe even years, of wondering, he knew what that was.

“Seven thirty. I’ll cook.”

* * *

THE PHONE WOKE her and she fumbled for it, knocking a book onto the floor.

There was a whimper from the bed, and Charlie scrabbled to his feet and licked her face.

He’d followed her up to the bedroom when she’d arrived home, and hovered there, as if he sensed something different about her and was afraid of leaving her alone.