But his gaze followed her hand as she stroked it reverently over the soapstone countertops and imagined the feel of it on his body. He shifted to adjust his suddenly tight khakis.
“Dear God, the dinner parties you could host with this kitchen! I’m lusting after this range. And the counter space.”
“Do you like to cook?”
“I don’t get to as often as I’d like, but yeah, I do. I find it relaxing.” And there was something he hadn’t known about her.
“Did your mom teach you?”
“Some. Mostly it was our chef, Jean Luc.” She paused, her cheeks flushing. “And I realize how that sounds. But both my parents had high-powered careers and…well…that’s just how it was. But since I tended to haunt the kitchen, Jean Luc told me I might as well make myself useful.”
Because he couldn’t resist, he edged into her space, loving how her eyes dilated as he caged her in against the counter. “What’s your favorite dish to prepare?”
“I make a hell of a coq au vin. And I’ve never met a pasta I didn’t love. That’s probably the Italian in me.”
“Italian?”
“My mother is from Naples. She came to the U.S. for grad school in business. It’s where she met my dad.”
“Do you speak Italian?”
Tess grinned and rattled something off. The sound of it rolled over him like a caress.
“I have no idea what you just said, but that may be one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.”
She laughed and laid a hand against his chest. “I said yes I do and asked if you actually do this magnificent kitchen justice.”
“I’m an adequate cook. Like any proper manly man, I can grill, and do whenever it’s my turn to host poker night. But the only real dinner party this place has seen was the year I hosted Thanksgiving. And really, I just provided the space. Grammy, Mom, Aunt Anita, and Aunt Sandy took over. We men were banished to football.”
“That seems like a tragedy. This
is clearly a space designed for entertaining.” She nudged him gently back and wandered through the wide entryway into the huge den, with the dining room off to one side.
“You like entertaining?”
“Love it. My parents used to host these huge fancy parties when I was little. I was supposed to be in bed, but I always snuck out of my room to watch the guests arrive in their fancy party clothes. They looked so glamorous. Like real-life royalty.”
Mitch liked the mental image of a tiny Tess with her face peeking out through the spindles of a staircase. “Is it just the fancy kind of parties you like?”
“No. I like entertaining, period. Bringing together friends. Doesn’t have to be huge or fancy. Just good food, good company.”
He could see how it might be, with the house full of friends and family, the two of them circulating, laughing, then sharing a glance across the room that made everybody else disappear. Despite their vastly different worlds, he could see how she’d fit. In this house. In his life. He’d never brought a woman here before. Hadn’t wanted to have memories with any other woman in this house, other than the one he married. That he could see her here so clearly just confirmed for him everything he felt in Scotland. But he knew that was getting ahead of things. Again. So he said nothing and continued with the tour, delighting in seeing his house through her eyes.
When they reached his home office and the plans he’d been working up, conversation turned to business again. He started with the front elevations he’d drawn by hand. He’d wanted the discipline of the details. She listened patiently as he took her through the AutoCAD drawings, asking the occasional question, making a suggestion or two as he described all the conversions and features. By the time he finished, her dark eyes sparkled.
“This is almost exactly my vision.”
“I know.” It’s what he’d been aiming for. Bringing to life everything she’d told him.
“You were paying attention.” Her smile warmed him down to his toes. And a few other places.
“I remember every word you’ve ever said to me.”
A flash of uncertainty flickered over her features. “Why did you do this? I mean, I understand why you want to change the building for Miranda. But why turn it into this?”
Mitch weighed the truth against the likelihood it would scare her away and opted for honesty. “Because it’s a good idea that fits with the revitalization efforts already going on in Wishful. And because it was a way to keep you with me.”
“Mitch.” Her voice was drenched with an emotion he was optimistic enough to believe was hope. “I haven’t taken off the necklace you gave me.” Her fingers brushed over it, drawing his attention to the lovely length of her throat.