shadows.
"Buxom Blonde in Black," he repeated, seeing it as a title. "Jesus, she'll love that. There'll be no living with her. That was Aubrey. Aubrey Quinn. My brother Ethan's oldest daughter."
"I see." And it made her feel like an idiot. "It didn't seem to be a particularly avuncular relationship."
"I don't feel like her uncle. It's more a big-brother thing. She was two when I came to Saint Chris. We fell for each other. Aubrey's the first person I ever loved, absolutely. She's got strength and beauty, too, and I've certainly translated and enjoyed them. But not in quite the same way I'd like to do with yours."
"Then you're going to be disappointed. Even if I were interested,
I don't have the time to pose, and I don't have the inclination to be enjoyed. You're very attractive, Seth, and if I were going to be shallow—"
"Yeah." Another brilliant, flashing grin. "Let's be shallow."
"Sorry." But he'd teased a smile out of her again. "I gave it up. If I were going to be, I might enjoy you. But as it stands, we're going to settle for the practical."
"We can start there. Now, since you asked me a question earlier, I get to ask you one."
"All right, what?"
He saw by the way her face turned closed-in and wary that she was braced for something personal she wouldn't care to answer. So he shifted gears. "Do you like steamed crabs?"
She stared at him for nearly ten seconds and gave him the pleasure of watching her face relax. "Yes, I like steamed crabs."
"Good. We'll have some on our first date. I'll be by in the morning to sign the lease," he added as he walked to the open door.
"The morning's fine."
He looked down as she leaned over to lock the door behind them. Her neck was long, elegant. The contrast between it and the severe cut of the dark hair was sharp and dramatic. Without thinking, he skimmed a finger along the curve, just to sample the texture.
She froze, so that for one instant they made a portrait of themselves. The woman in the rich-colored suit, slightly bent toward a closed door, and the man in rough clothes with a fingertip at the nape of her neck.
She straightened with a quick jerk of movement, and Seth let his hand drop away. "Sorry, irritating habit of mine."
"Do you have many?"
"Yeah, afraid so. That one wasn't anything personal. You've got a really nice line back there." He stuck his hands in his pockets so it wouldn't become personal. Not yet.
"I'm an expert on lines, nice or otherwise." She breezed by him and down the steps.
"Hey." He jogged after her. "I've got better lines than that one."
"I'll just bet you do."
"I'll try some out on you. But in the meantime…" He opened her car door. "Is there any storage space?"
"Utility room. There." She gestured toward a door under the steps. "Furnace and water heater, that sort of thing. And some storage."
"If I need to, can I stick some stuff in there until I get the space worked out? I've got some things coming in from Rome. They'll probably be here Monday."
"I don't have a problem with that. The key's inside the shop. Remind me to give it to you tomorrow."
"Appreciate it." He closed the door for her when she'd climbed in, then he knocked on the window. "You know," he said when she rolled down the window, "I like spending time with a smart, self-confident woman who knows what she wants and goes out and gets it. Like you got this place. Very sexy, that kind of direction and dedication."
He waited a beat. "That was a line."
She kept her eyes on his as she rolled the glass up between their faces again.
And she didn't let herself chuckle until she'd driven away.
THE BEST thing about Sundays, in Dru's opinion, was waking up slowly, then clinging to that half-dream state while the sunlight shivered through the trees, slid through the windows and danced on her closed lids.
Sundays were knowing nothing absolutely had to be done, and countless things could be.
She'd make coffee and toast a bagel in her own kitchen, then have her breakfast in the
"Buxom Blonde in Black," he repeated, seeing it as a title. "Jesus, she'll love that. There'll be no living with her. That was Aubrey. Aubrey Quinn. My brother Ethan's oldest daughter."
"I see." And it made her feel like an idiot. "It didn't seem to be a particularly avuncular relationship."
"I don't feel like her uncle. It's more a big-brother thing. She was two when I came to Saint Chris. We fell for each other. Aubrey's the first person I ever loved, absolutely. She's got strength and beauty, too, and I've certainly translated and enjoyed them. But not in quite the same way I'd like to do with yours."
"Then you're going to be disappointed. Even if I were interested,
I don't have the time to pose, and I don't have the inclination to be enjoyed. You're very attractive, Seth, and if I were going to be shallow—"
"Yeah." Another brilliant, flashing grin. "Let's be shallow."
"Sorry." But he'd teased a smile out of her again. "I gave it up. If I were going to be, I might enjoy you. But as it stands, we're going to settle for the practical."
"We can start there. Now, since you asked me a question earlier, I get to ask you one."
"All right, what?"
He saw by the way her face turned closed-in and wary that she was braced for something personal she wouldn't care to answer. So he shifted gears. "Do you like steamed crabs?"
She stared at him for nearly ten seconds and gave him the pleasure of watching her face relax. "Yes, I like steamed crabs."
"Good. We'll have some on our first date. I'll be by in the morning to sign the lease," he added as he walked to the open door.
"The morning's fine."
He looked down as she leaned over to lock the door behind them. Her neck was long, elegant. The contrast between it and the severe cut of the dark hair was sharp and dramatic. Without thinking, he skimmed a finger along the curve, just to sample the texture.
She froze, so that for one instant they made a portrait of themselves. The woman in the rich-colored suit, slightly bent toward a closed door, and the man in rough clothes with a fingertip at the nape of her neck.
She straightened with a quick jerk of movement, and Seth let his hand drop away. "Sorry, irritating habit of mine."
"Do you have many?"
"Yeah, afraid so. That one wasn't anything personal. You've got a really nice line back there." He stuck his hands in his pockets so it wouldn't become personal. Not yet.
"I'm an expert on lines, nice or otherwise." She breezed by him and down the steps.
"Hey." He jogged after her. "I've got better lines than that one."
"I'll just bet you do."
"I'll try some out on you. But in the meantime…" He opened her car door. "Is there any storage space?"
"Utility room. There." She gestured toward a door under the steps. "Furnace and water heater, that sort of thing. And some storage."
"If I need to, can I stick some stuff in there until I get the space worked out? I've got some things coming in from Rome. They'll probably be here Monday."
"I don't have a problem with that. The key's inside the shop. Remind me to give it to you tomorrow."
"Appreciate it." He closed the door for her when she'd climbed in, then he knocked on the window. "You know," he said when she rolled down the window, "I like spending time with a smart, self-confident woman who knows what she wants and goes out and gets it. Like you got this place. Very sexy, that kind of direction and dedication."
He waited a beat. "That was a line."
She kept her eyes on his as she rolled the glass up between their faces again.
And she didn't let herself chuckle until she'd driven away.
THE BEST thing about Sundays, in Dru's opinion, was waking up slowly, then clinging to that half-dream state while the sunlight shivered through the trees, slid through the windows and danced on her closed lids.
Sundays were knowing nothing absolutely had to be done, and countless things could be.
She'd make coffee and toast a bagel in her own kitchen, then have her breakfast in the
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