Enormously relieved not to have to visit him in overalls, she pulled on pale lavender lingerie, slipped on the green outfit with bronze flats and thought she looked pretty cute. Unfortunately, as she walked to her office, she felt like unraveled yarn.
She usually loved the stillness of the new day in Monarch Bay, but that morning the seagulls were noisily circling overhead. She picked up the promised sketches and noted the eight o’clock appointment on her wipe-off board. Her hand shook so badly she had to erase the message twice and try again, but the third effort was clearly legible. As she left for Griffin’s, she glanced up at the gulls and hoped their raucous din wasn’t a dire warning.
She hadn’t been so nervous around a man since high school when she’d had a desperate crush on a popular football player, and her friends had pressured her to invite him to the winter dance. It had taken her a week of stomach-churning torment to work up the nerve to dial his telephone number.
When he’d answered, she’d issued a well-rehearsed but stammering invitation. He’d sounded surprised to hear from her and, as unsophisticated as she, he’d told her how excited he was to be going to the dance with one of the cheerleaders.
The brief conversation had left her thoroughly humiliated, and she hadn’t asked another man out on a date from that day to this. She hadn’t thought of high school in years, but that morning, she felt as awkward and lost as she had at sixteen.
Griffin answered the door dressed in Levi’s and a charcoal gray silk shirt. He looked well-rested, greeted her warmly and quickly drew her inside. “On my way home last night, I began to wonder if you ever consider the view from the house rather than from the street when you make your initial sketches.”
“Yes, I do, but with the sea at the back and the mountains at the front, I imagine anyone gazing from your home would find the distant view more appealing than a beautifully landscaped yard.”
“They might, but just humor me and come on upstairs.”
“Is this another pitch for the bathroom tour?”
“No, but you’ll be sorry you put it off when you finally see them. The master bath has wisteria sculpted into the tile work that is especially fine.”
“Wisteria? Well, that does it. Let’s go.” Darcy would have agreed to view anything to avoid looking at him when he was so handsome it hurt.
“Ladies first.” Griffin gestured toward the stairs and followed her up. “Turn left at the top. My room is at the end.”
Darcy felt him trailing close behind and tried to focus on the beautifully carved handrail. “Even without furniture, there’s a real warmth to this house.”
“Yes, I felt it the first time I came here.”
Darcy paused at the top of the stairs and glanced both ways before turning left. “How many bedrooms are there?”
“Seven up here. There’s a maid’s room off the kitchen and two full apartments over the garage for additional staff.”
His door was closed, and Darcy waited for him to open it. The room was painted the color of chocolate milk with a bold area rug in chocolate and cream beneath a king-sized bed covered with a cream-colored spread. The furnishings were dark, obviously expensive and starkly modern, as were the paintings. It was a thoroughly masculine room, as though the owner had given no thought to adding a woman’s tender influence to his life.
A set of double doors led to a walk-in closet and another to the promised bath. French doors opened out on a balcony overlooking the sea. It was a room as spectacular as its owner, and Darcy forced herself to concentrate on wisteria as Griffin opened the bathroom door for her.
The bathroom was huge, with a tub, separate shower and a glossy black marble floor. A long mirror covered the wall above the black marble counter holding the double sinks and reflected the pale mauve tile trimmed with black. It was a stunning room, and the tile work was indeed superb, but as Griffin’s gaze caught hers in the mirror, she saw only him.
He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “The decorator couldn’t find towels in an exact match for the tile, so he went with black. He apologized profusely, but frankly, a towel is a towel to me.”
Darcy watched a trickle of water left from his morning shower lazily careen down the clear glass enclosure. “Black is good for a man.”
She went to the window looking out on the sea and traced the pattern in the tile below. “Maybe we could plant a wisteria at the base of the bedroom balcony to echo this theme.”
“See, I told you you ought to tour the bathrooms. They may inspire all sorts of remarkable possibilities.”
Darcy glanced at him again in the mirror. She’d once dated a man who couldn’t pass a mirror without commenting on his looks, but rather than himself, Griffin was observing her with a fond glance. A sly smile played across his lips, and he appeared to be genuinely interested in her comments.
What she was most interested in, however, was him. He would surely break her heart, but while still whole, her heart thundered his name. She drew in a deep breath and decided to go for it. Giving up any other course as absurd, she went to him and began to unbutton his shirt.
“Let’s forget breakfast,” she suggested in a provocative purr, “and take up where we left off last night.”
Griffin laughed and straightened to his full height. He grasped her waist and, with two strides, set her on the counter between the sinks. He stepped between her legs and rested his hands lightly on her thighs.
“After I got up at dawn to cook for you, don’t you even want to hear the menu?”
“No. Whatever it is can’t possibly be better than you.” Darcy unbuttoned the last button, and Griffin shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. Crisp black curls fanned over his chest, narrowed to a thin strip down his well-defined abs and disappeared beneath his belt. She spread her fingers across his chest and thumbed his nipples.
“I do have feelings,” Griffin protested. “I don’t just service women on demand.”