Read Online Love Unlocked by Libby Waterford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Libby Waterford
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and dismantle the crate and haul it away with him at the end of the day.
There were a dozen and a half pieces in all. It took her the entirety of the afternoon to arrange and rearrange them before she was satisfied with their distribution around the house. She found herself wondering what Hudson would say about her choice of the Degas in the downstairs powder room, or the sweet little medieval Madonna by the living room window. She’d hung countless shows at her galleries, but she still could have used his painter’s eye.
It unsettled her that she thought of him so often. Her concentration was shot. She blamed it entirely on him and that kiss. Well, both kisses. The first had been dreamy, unexpectedly sensual. The second had been intensely craved, and deeply felt. If the first kiss had been the product of flirtation, the second had been born of lust; unfortunately, she was as lusty as ever.
So there she stood in her bedroom, holding the final painting up to the wall, thinking about Hudson’s brain as she studied the color contrast between the still life and the room’s light. When she had the final placement right, she turned her thoughts to Hudson’s body, and how she’d like to sink onto her bed with him on top of her, so he could make good on the promise of those searing kisses. She felt branded by them, and no amount of wishing it away would erase that feeling.
Eve shivered. It seemed Hudson Cleary was a complication she couldn’t make herself avoid. She set the painting down and grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it.
The length of the five rings before he answered were almost enough time for good sense to filter back through the haze of lust she’d been in all afternoon.
“What can I do for you, Eve?” His sexy bass broke through her meager defenses.
“I know you probably already have plans, since it’s Friday night, but I was wondering if you wanted...dinner. To have dinner with me.” Could she be more incoherent?
“I can be there in fifteen minutes. Dinner optional.” His voice was deeper, rougher. Just how she liked it.
“No,” she said weakly. “Only dinner.”
“All right, dinner first.”
“Just dinner.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“Dinner,” he repeated.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“A little.”
“Then you can bring the wine. I’m making pork. Be here at seven.” She hung up. At least, she’d gotten in the last word.
***
The doorbell wasn’t unexpected, but it still made Eve jump. She took a deep breath. They were having dinner, and that was it. She was being friendly. Kissing didn’t even figure into the equation, because they weren’t going to do any of it. Right.
She tore off the oversized T-shirt she’d put on in lieu of an apron and smoothed down her hair on the way to the front door.
He’d made an effort, which made her feel better about the hour she’d spent deciding between outfits. She’d been going for a “I’m so naturally stunning I don’t even need to try” sort of look with her hair loose, her feet bare, and a simple white blouse over perfectly tailored jeans. Rubies twinkled at her ears and neck, making her feel powerful.
Hudson was also in jeans, but in place of his normal broken-in flannel, he wore a thin cashmere sweater the color of his eyes, a chocolate brown that made him look completely edible. His hair was a little damp, and he smelled like fresh laundry. The wholesome image was utterly cancelled out by the wolfish grin on his face and the bottle of Dom Pérignon in his hands.
“I didn’t know what went with pork, then I remembered you said champagne is always a good idea.”
“I was right.” The fact that he’d listened to her, remembered her offhanded remark, then bought her one hundred and fifty dollar bubbly made her feel warm, like he’d switched on a heat lamp inside her.
She popped the cork and it seemed to pop the tension between them, as well. He told her
There were a dozen and a half pieces in all. It took her the entirety of the afternoon to arrange and rearrange them before she was satisfied with their distribution around the house. She found herself wondering what Hudson would say about her choice of the Degas in the downstairs powder room, or the sweet little medieval Madonna by the living room window. She’d hung countless shows at her galleries, but she still could have used his painter’s eye.
It unsettled her that she thought of him so often. Her concentration was shot. She blamed it entirely on him and that kiss. Well, both kisses. The first had been dreamy, unexpectedly sensual. The second had been intensely craved, and deeply felt. If the first kiss had been the product of flirtation, the second had been born of lust; unfortunately, she was as lusty as ever.
So there she stood in her bedroom, holding the final painting up to the wall, thinking about Hudson’s brain as she studied the color contrast between the still life and the room’s light. When she had the final placement right, she turned her thoughts to Hudson’s body, and how she’d like to sink onto her bed with him on top of her, so he could make good on the promise of those searing kisses. She felt branded by them, and no amount of wishing it away would erase that feeling.
Eve shivered. It seemed Hudson Cleary was a complication she couldn’t make herself avoid. She set the painting down and grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it.
The length of the five rings before he answered were almost enough time for good sense to filter back through the haze of lust she’d been in all afternoon.
“What can I do for you, Eve?” His sexy bass broke through her meager defenses.
“I know you probably already have plans, since it’s Friday night, but I was wondering if you wanted...dinner. To have dinner with me.” Could she be more incoherent?
“I can be there in fifteen minutes. Dinner optional.” His voice was deeper, rougher. Just how she liked it.
“No,” she said weakly. “Only dinner.”
“All right, dinner first.”
“Just dinner.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“Dinner,” he repeated.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“A little.”
“Then you can bring the wine. I’m making pork. Be here at seven.” She hung up. At least, she’d gotten in the last word.
***
The doorbell wasn’t unexpected, but it still made Eve jump. She took a deep breath. They were having dinner, and that was it. She was being friendly. Kissing didn’t even figure into the equation, because they weren’t going to do any of it. Right.
She tore off the oversized T-shirt she’d put on in lieu of an apron and smoothed down her hair on the way to the front door.
He’d made an effort, which made her feel better about the hour she’d spent deciding between outfits. She’d been going for a “I’m so naturally stunning I don’t even need to try” sort of look with her hair loose, her feet bare, and a simple white blouse over perfectly tailored jeans. Rubies twinkled at her ears and neck, making her feel powerful.
Hudson was also in jeans, but in place of his normal broken-in flannel, he wore a thin cashmere sweater the color of his eyes, a chocolate brown that made him look completely edible. His hair was a little damp, and he smelled like fresh laundry. The wholesome image was utterly cancelled out by the wolfish grin on his face and the bottle of Dom Pérignon in his hands.
“I didn’t know what went with pork, then I remembered you said champagne is always a good idea.”
“I was right.” The fact that he’d listened to her, remembered her offhanded remark, then bought her one hundred and fifty dollar bubbly made her feel warm, like he’d switched on a heat lamp inside her.
She popped the cork and it seemed to pop the tension between them, as well. He told her
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