Excerpt from the Book
He held out a hand. “Call it a day. Come down and join me for a drink.”
A voice inside her was yelling a dozen reasons why that was a bad idea, but the only thing she could hear properly was her own voice agreeing.
Samantha laid her hand in his and let him pull her up. For a moment, they stood toe to toe, and the air around them seemed to shimmer to life, crackling and sizzling with the promise of what could be and probably soon would be. Jonathan’s eyes crinkled in a smile that was pure awareness. He waited until her breath hitched, then dropped her hand and stepped away.
“I took the liberty to already arrange something nice and cozy for us,” he said, his voice slipping into a slightly lower register.
She had to swallow hard before she found her voice. “I could’ve refused the invitation. Are you really so sure of yourself?”
A small frown flickered over his face. “No. Not when it comes to you, if I’m honest.”
He turned and she followed him out and down the stairs, mulling over his words. Did it mean he found her difficult to read? Did he think she was playing hard to get? Was she? Heck if she knew her own mind these days, let alone her heart.
Her thoughts came to a stand-still when Jonathan led her to the living room, which would soon be the inn’s common room. He’d left the lights off but lit the fire and some of the candles they had ordered two days ago. The summer nights here could get surprisingly cool, even though the fire was more about a cozy atmosphere rather than actual warmth. The room was awash in softly flickering light, the hiss and crackle of logs, the barely-there smell of smoke mixing with the delicate vanilla and rose of the scented candles.
Samantha stood there, staring. It had the feel of a candle-light dinner, intimate despite the size of the place. Was this…was this his idea of a first date? Was he romancing her?
When she turned, she stifled a gasp. Jonathan had walked right up to her. He was standing there in touching distance, head slightly tilted, his gaze drinking her in. For a moment, she felt self-conscious. She was probably looking frazzled from work, was dressed in her usual ensemble of jeans and a button-down shirt, had let her hair out of her ponytail some time ago to comb her fingers through it and think. But his gaze told her none of it mattered to him, as if he saw a woman she didn’t. The woman inside her? The woman she wanted to be?
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “The light does magical things to the color of your hair.”
His right hand lifted, and his fingers brushed so softly over her head that she barely felt them. She wanted to grab it, press it down more firmly. To lean her cheek into his touch, slide her body into his embrace.
She did nothing of the sort, only held his gaze. There was that knowing smile again, so free of smugness but so potent. “Let’s sit down and sip some wine.”
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