Chapter 88 88
The room was like a movie set. Justin had dragged a small table in front of the hearth and had stoked the fire until it burned merrily, chasing away the cold and cheering the atmosphere immeasurably. He had clearly raised the house for a stash of antiques and décor. A lace tablecloth set the stage for the brick-red plates he carried. A bottle held a single beeswax candle.
Just behind the table, Justin had positioned the sofa and chairs close enough for post-dinner conversation. Even he couldn’t roust up fresh flowers under the circumstances, but he had located a dried nosegay of lavender and heather and tucked it into a china vase.
She set the glasses on the table so he wouldn’t hear them rattle against one another. “This looks nice.”
Clearly, he was making a point. She had professed to dislike romantic gestures. Justin was calling her bluff. He gently set down the plates and then poured the wine.
“Sit and eat,” he said, placing a glass filled almost to the brim with Chardonnay at her elbow. “Before it gets cold.”
She obeyed reluctantly, feeling her heart race. This wasn’t what she had signed on for. She didn’t want Justin to be sweet and nice. She didn’t want cozy evenings that would make her life feel incomplete when he was gone. Justin, apparently oblivious to her consternation, dug into his food with the gusto of a hungry man enjoying his dinner. In between bites, he carried on a mostly one-sided conversation in which Sherry mumbled answers only when necessary.
She was fluent in three languages, had dined in four-star restaurants on as many continents and knew the intricacies of cutlery and wine pairings, but on this particular occasion, she was abashed to the point of social ineptitude.
Even Justin, determined to have a pleasant meal, eventually had to address her lack of conviviality. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, lifting a sardonic eyebrow.
Sherry swallowed. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.” Unfortunately, that statement came out sounding far more accusatory than appreciative.
“Don’t worry, my little thornbush. This was for my benefit, not yours.”
How did one go about calling a man a liar when an earnest apology was already in order? “Meaning what?”
“I was in a bad mood. I thought a semblance of civilization might be in order.”
“I didn’t think you were ever in a bad mood. At least when you’re not with me,” she amended hastily. “The editor of the Olkfield blog called you Olkfield’s Consummate Gentleman.’”
He lifted his glass to his lips, eyed her over the brim and drank deeply, the muscles in his throat flexing slightly. The flannel shirt had disappeared. Now he wore a pale blue dress shirt with an open collar and the sleeves rolled up. This Justin was so genial and approachable. This recent version, more like the man she knew in the city, was infinitely dangerous.
Twirling the stem of the glass between his fingers, he cocked his head and eyed her reflectively. “Since when do you follow these society blogs? I thought Bennets objected to such journalism on principle.”
She stabbed the last bite of her tender pork and waved it at him. “I don’t live in a cave. You’re quite the celebrity in our corner of the world. I’m sure women line up in droves to be the next flavor of the month.”
“Be fair,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t flit from flower to flower.”
True, damn his hide. She wanted to take potshots at him, wanted it rather badly. But it wasn’t that easy to do. He was damned near perfect. “Well, you sure don’t show any signs of settling down. Or is all that talk about a wife and having kids just a ruse to lure softhearted romantics into your bed?”
“Thank God you’re not a romantic,” he said grimly. “No telling what would happen.”
A ripple of sensation skated down her spine. She had plenty of armor to ward off a lazy, affable Justin. But when he went all dark-eyed and irritated, something about him made her belly flip with feelings that were definitely not wise.
“Are you avoiding the question?” The bite in her words appeared to amuse him.
“Not at all. I don’t make any secret of my intentions, but I’m not foolish enough to let a woman think I’m serious when I’m not.”
“And you haven’t been? Serious, I mean?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Jealous, Sherry?”
She choked on her wine. “Of course not. I'm just asking. We’d be a dreadful couple.”
“Didn’t seem like it last night…or this morning. When you were screaming my name.”
Her face turned hot. “Sexual compatibility is nothing more than a fluke of hormones. The only reason I agreed to this temporary arrangement was that I’ve had a bit of a dry spell.”
“How dry?” he shot back.
“None of your business.”
“Hmm…”
He seemed to have the terrifying capability of seeing inside her brain. Could he really know how long she had carried a torch for him? She would die of humiliation if he realized. Justin had rejected her, rather vehemently, a long time ago. Never mind that her heartfelt declaration of love still rang in her ears with sick embarrassment. He had told her she was too young, too forward, too blatant in her pursuit.
Surely he gave her credit for having matured in the meantime. She gazed into the fire, anything to avoid his laserlike gaze. “Shall I take care of the dishes?”
Justin stood, gathering their plates. “Don’t move. Dessert is on the way.”
When he left the room, she dropped her head in her hands, only to jerk upright moments later when he returned carrying two bowls of vanilla ice cream topped with strawberries.
At her look of surprise, Justin grinned. He had topped each serving with an artistic swirl of whipped cream. “Enjoy,” he said.
She picked up her dessert spoon reluctantly. It was just ice cream. Nothing sexual about that. No reason for her palms to sweat and her pulse to do the cha-cha. After all, strawberries conjured up the memories of long, hot summer afternoons. And happy times. Her childhood on Bennet Mountain had been idyllic in the beginning. When she was too young to know she was being held captive by her father’s fears.
Almost as if Justin could hear her thoughts, he tapped the side of his bowl with the spoon. “Earth to Sherry. Where did you go?”
She licked a drop of melting ice cream from her upper lip. “I was thinking about being a kid. How wild and free it was.”