She turned, clearly surprised. “You’re going to sell them?”
“Yes, there’s so much artwork I like, if I kept everything, you wouldn’t be able to walk in the front door.”
Her resulting laughter took him by surprise. Had she ever laughed at something he said before? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t ever want her to stop.
But she did when she noticed him staring at her. “What?”
“Your laugh.”
“What about it?”
“I’d like to hear it more often.”
“I guess I’m not the kind of person who laughs a lot.” A strange look crossed her face. “I don’t know why.”
Damn it. How could telling her that he liked her laughter cause all the joy to leave her face? That hadn’t been his intent. “Hey, did I say something? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s nothing.” She exhaled and gave him a sad smile. “I wish I were the type person who laughed a lot, that’s all.”
“Maybe you are and you’ve just been hanging out with the wrong people.”
“That’s a definite possibility.”
“Let me show you the rest of the house.” He motioned for her to follow him out. No sooner had they stepped into the hallway than the kitchen timer he’d set for the bread went off. “Tour and then eat or eat, then tour?”
“Eat and then tour.”
“A woman after my heart. Let’s go.”
They walked back to the kitchen where she insisted on helping him set the table. He wasn’t in a mood to argue with her and he rather liked having her be all domestic in his house. She looked as if she belonged and the thought made him smile.
She put two bowls on the table. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“Am I?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How?”
“Like you’re a dog and I’m a bone you’ve just been given.”
“I’d never look at you like you’re a bone.” He leaned back on the countertop and crossed his arms. “Maybe a juicy steak.”
She smiled and he thought he heard a giggle. That was progress. Maybe it wouldn’t be too much longer before he was getting full-fledged laughs routinely. He should make that a goal, to have her laugh, really laugh, once a week.
“I guess a juicy steak is better than a bone,” she said. “Though I can’t imagine by much.”
“It is, trust me.” He pushed back from the countertop. “Let’s eat and you can tell me all about how you went from cover model to TV executive.”
“Really?” She sat down as he brought the salads over. “Why would you want to talk about something so boring?”
“The camera loves you and you were once quite passionate about modeling. I’m trying to figure how it is you’re satisfied sitting behind a desk.”
She took a bite of salad and, once she’d swallowed, replied, “What makes you think I’m satisfied?”
Her words struck his heart, just like she probably knew they would. “Aren’t you?”
“Most days, yes.” She shoveled her lettuce around the bowl. “But then others . . . Like, take this invitation I recently received. One of the NNN anchors has been nominated for an Emmy and he invited me to his celebratory dinner. I helped him get his foot in the door eons ago when I was fresh out of college. Days like the one I got the invitation? I’m not so satisfied then. I feel unsettled.”
“Why?”
“Because I wonder what my life would be like if I’d made other choices. If I’d decided not to help him, that it was every man for himself. If I’d gone for the job instead of coaching him for it. If I sat in front of a camera rather than sitting behind a desk.”
“Do you want his job?”
“I wouldn’t turn it down. The invitation really shouldn’t bother me the way it has. He’s done a good job. He should be recognized for it. But, like I said, most days I’m content. Truly.”
There was so much more to life than merely being content, especially since from where he sat, she was trying to convince herself she was even that. He’d tell her that one day, but now wasn’t the time. “Will you go to his celebratory dinner?”
“Yes, I will. Not so much because I want to, but because it would hurt his feelings if I didn’t. I’ve always been there for him in the past. This is a big deal. I should go. Besides, if I don’t, people will talk about how I’m jealous and couldn’t swallow my pride enough to go to a lousy dinner.”
“Sounds like an absolute fright.”
“It will be.” She stopped shoveling her food around and tilted her head. “Will you go with me?”
Just as soon as the words left her mouth, she clamped her lips shut, as if she couldn’t believe she’d asked the question.
“To the absolutely frightful celebratory dinner?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want me to go?”
“Yes.” She nodded, apparently having decided not to renege on her offer. “It’ll be so much better with you there. I hate going to functions like that alone.”
Even though there had been less animosity between the two of them, he knew she wasn’t asking him as a real date. No, she simply didn’t want to show up alone. He would be acting as her support, not her date. Frankly, he thought she’d spent enough time by herself; she needed to get out more. Enjoy life.
“When is it?” he asked.
“Next Saturday night. Oh, I wasn’t thinking. It’s a Saturday. In Manhattan. Damn. We might need to move our session up so I . . . we . . . can go. If it’s okay with you.”
Her words sent his imagination into hyperspeed. Forget having the session before. All he could think about was Meagan in the moonlight. First in her evening gown and then totally nude, bathed by the light of a thousand stars. “Yes, I’ll go with you.” His voice sounded rough and he cleared his throat. “Except we’ll do the session outside, afterward.”
Chapter Four
Meagan looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her bathroom door and frowned. Not because she looked bad, but because she actually cared what she looked like. But it was more than that. She wanted to know what he would think. Would he like the gown she’d selected?
Normally, everyone wore black to these functions. There was the occasional woman who wore silver or red. In fact, she’d planned to wear a silver gown herself. But she had been window-shopping and this gown had caught her eye. She’d marched into the store and asked for it in her size, telling herself the entire time it had nothing to do with him. Luke.
But of course, deep down, she knew it had everything to do with Luke. She ran her hands down her sides and took a deep breath; then she looked at herself again.
The gown was a pale pink, with delicate sheer fabric covering one shoulder. And though the bottom of the gown barely brushed the tops of her heels, there was a slit on the left side that rose dangerously high up her thigh. Luke had been right—the color was fabulous on her.
She turned to look at the back and gave a nod of satisfaction, right as her doorbell rang. She’d told Luke that she could meet him at the party, but he’d said no, he would come by her apartment and pick her up. Inside, she’d been secretly thrilled, even though she scowled at him and said, “Fine.”
Her heart raced as she made her way to the door and she waved her hands so she wouldn’t get sweat on the gown. It was absurd she was nervous. She was a grown-ass woman. Attending a dinner party with a man shouldn’t fill her stomach with butterflies. But maybe, if it were any other man, there wouldn’t be any butterflies.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Luke’s eyes grew wide, first with shock and then with something else. He didn’t say anything as his eyes traveled over her body. She lifted her head just a bit, letting him look his share.
“My God, Meagan,” he finally said. “You are magnificent.”
He liked it. From the looks of it, he more than liked it. “Thank you. Someone told me I looked good in this color.?
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