Rags to Riches Baby

Oliver had no idea why he kept rambling on about the garden and his love for it. He’d never told this story to anyone, and yet Lucy’s simple question had prompted a flow of words that even he hadn’t expected. He didn’t understand why she had this effect on him. There wasn’t just an attraction between them, there was more. A real connection that he wanted to build and maintain beyond this nonsense about the will. That was the scariest part of all.

“Are there still places to sit up here?” Lucy asked as she leaned in to smell a large, dark red rose.

That was one of his favorites—the Mister Lincoln rose. It gave off an amazing perfume in addition to being a beautiful, classic, crimson rose. “Yes. If we follow the path around, we’ll see the pergola where I’ve put up some furniture.”

They walked along the trail lined with rosebushes, gardenias and zinnias, to the trumpet vine-wrapped pergola on the south side of the building. It framed the best view from the roof, showcasing the ever-changing colors of the top of the Empire State Building. Under the pergola was a double chaise lounge that was perfect for sunbathing, naps or working evenings on the laptop with a glass of wine or scotch and ice.

“Wow,” Lucy said. With the giddy grin of a child, she kicked off her heels and lay against the raised back of the chaise. She tugged up her dress to expose the cropped pants underneath and wiggled her pink painted toes in their newfound freedom. “This is amazing. I would spend every minute I had out here if I could.”

Oliver smiled and settled onto the seat beside her. She’d jumped into the chaise without giving a second thought to getting her designer dress dirty and he appreciated that. “I don’t spend much time just sitting here, actually. Maintaining the garden takes up most of my free time since I do it all myself. If I’m out here, I’m pulling weeds and repotting plants. Trimming back bushes and watering. It’s a lot of work but it helps me keep my mind off of my worries.”

Lucy sighed and snuggled against his shoulder as she took a sip of her wine. Oliver felt the heat of her body sink through the fabric of his tuxedo shirt and warm his skin. The feel of her so close made his pulse speed up. Suddenly, he had the urge to rip off his bowtie and tug her into his lap. He wasn’t going to rush things tonight, though. There was no need to not take their time and enjoy it.

“And to think,” Lucy said, “I assumed you were just some heartless workaholic with nothing better to do with your limited free time than screw with me.”

That made him laugh out loud, chasing away his heated thoughts for a moment. Lucy just said whatever came to her mind and he loved that about her. There wasn’t anything practiced or polished about her words. It was authentic and refreshing, even when it was mildly insulting.

“Well, I am a heartless workaholic, but I have plenty of things I could do with my limited free time. I simply chose to spend the time screwing with you because I…” Oliver turned his head toward her with his lips nearly pressing against her temple. “I like you, Lucy. More than I ever thought I would. Probably more than I should, if I were smart. But I can’t help it. And I can’t help wanting you.”

* * *

Lucy was stunned to silence. It was one thing to say that they’d called a truce on their war over Alice’s estate. It was another thing entirely for him to declare he wanted her while they were alone on a romantic rooftop patio. That was serious. That was the kind of statement that led to action.

So action is the course she took.

She set her glass of wine and small beaded black clutch on the table beside them and shifted onto her side to face him. His expression was different as he looked down at her in the glow of the garden’s lights. The hard edge of his jaw seemed softer, the sharp glare of his blue eyes warm instead. Welcoming. And not just with need, although she could sense the tension of desire in the press of his lips into one another. There was something about being here, in this place that was so special to him, that had changed him or at least shown her a side of him she didn’t know existed. She liked that part of Oliver. Liked him enough to throw the last of her reservations out the window where he was concerned.

“Sometimes the things we want aren’t the smartest choices,” she said softly. “But they’re the chances you’re the most likely to regret not taking. I hate having regrets.”

Lucy followed her words by leaning in and kissing him. This was no desperate assault like their first kiss on the Dempsey balcony, but a sultry warm-up to something more. She melted into him as she felt his hands seek out her waist and pull her closer. His mouth parted and his tongue slid past her own. The caress sent a surge down her spine, making her skin prickle with goose bumps and her core throb with need.