Maggie closed her eyes. There wasn’t a flying chance in Hades she’d get her work done now. Still, she spent the rest of the afternoon pretending. Her mind kept drifting to the box of Jimmy Choos sitting on her bed. At five, she gave up and went upstairs to shower. She searched her closet for the simple black dress she’d bought for a cocktail party at the college. Not quite as sexy as the shoes, but better than her baggy suits and everyday sweats.
Two hours later, she followed the amazing smells down the stairs and found Hunter waiting for her with two champagne flutes at the bottom. He’d changed into a clean pair of jeans and a red polo, leaving her feeling overdressed.
His gaze ran down her body and settled on her feet. He looked back up at her, his eyes filled with sensual promise. “Love the shoes.”
“Thanks,” she said, pleased he liked her purchase. She took the glass from his hand. “You made dinner?”
He shook his head. “Reheated. Olive Garden.”
Maggie sipped her champagne. She didn’t have much practice with surprises, and not knowing what he had planned unnerved her. “I’m a little overdressed for the OG.”
“You’re perfect.” He took her free hand. “Come with me.”
Wobbling in her new shoes, Maggie followed him through to the kitchen, where he traded his champagne glass for a picnic hamper she hadn’t used since she was a child. “Where did you find that?”
“In one of the storage closets beneath the stairs. I enlisted your housekeeper’s help. And your gardener.”
He’d asked her gardener? When he said fantasy, she thought he’d been talking about sex, not flowers. “You asked Fred for help? With what?”
“I’ll show you.”
He pushed through the side door and drew her out onto the stone path that ran around the house. Where the pavers stopped, a slate path began. It led through the clearing and disappeared into the wooded area.
“Fred said the slate had been in the garage for years,” Hunter said. He gave her hand a tug, leading her onto the new path.
She nodded. “My dad bought them for a project he never started. I can’t believe you did all this while I was working.”
He shrugged, looking over his shoulder at her as he led her closer to the tree line. “Do you like it?”
She saw the apprehension in his eyes. This big, strong man who’d ridden a horse through a war zone wanted her approval. “I do. But I’m not sure I should follow you into the woods. Especially in these shoes.”
“I’ll catch you if you fall.” His excitement was contagious, and she followed him into the dense wooded area, keeping her weight on her toes to prevent her heels from sinking. Behind them, the house disappeared from view. Maybe fifty yards in, they reached a clearing Maggie vaguely remembered from when she’d run around these woods as a very young child. A small round table that had been in her backyard, and the two matching chairs, sat beside what appeared to be a fire pit and a bale of hay. She turned to Hunter and raised an eyebrow. “This is your fantasy?”
“Patience, Miss Maggie. We’ll get to that.” He pointed to the hay bale. Beside it lay two sticks, a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a pile of chocolate bars. “First, dinner and dessert.”
“S’mores?”
“I figured, since you never really got to be a kid, you might have missed out on some of the best parts. There’s nothing better than a perfectly toasted marshmallow with chocolate and graham crackers.”
“Says the man who goes to car shows for the fake cheese.”
“I’m serious, Maggie.” He led her over to a chair and held it for her while she sat. “You need more fun in your life. You’ve been caring for yourself and others since what? Grade school?”
“I had my fun. On Saturday.” The reminder of their first night together sparked between them.
“You don’t just need to lose control in bed, honey.” He smiled devilishly. “You need a s’more more than anyone I’ve ever met. But first, dinner.”
Hunter unpacked the picnic hamper, pulling out bottles of sparkling water, piping hot breadsticks, a salad and two take-out containers. She peeked under the lid of one while he set up the plate
s and silverware. “Linguine Alfredo?”
“You said it was your favorite.”
“I’m going to be too full after this meal for anything else.” She felt her face flush at the thought of what he might have in store for her after dinner. Her imagination had been running wild ever since he’d sent her off to buy shoes. No matter what he had planned, she knew it would end with orgasms, and that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
“We have all night,” he said. “There’s no rush.”
Maggie relaxed in her chair and reached for a breadstick. The night air was warm, but not humid, and the sky was clear. In a few hours, the sun would sink behind the trees, leaving a sky full of stars. It was the perfect night for a picnic and campfire. The perfect night to set work aside and simply enjoy. They talked comfortably through the meal, moving to the hay bale for s’mores after Hunter built a fire in what Maggie assumed was record time.