he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin slowly. “I remember some things very clearly,” he said with a teasing wink.
“You can’t even resist now, can you?” she said accusingly, but a smile twitched at her lips.
She remembered what happened between them that night at the lake as clearly as he did, he’d bet. And, no, he wasn’t sure he could resist, or wanted to. But there was time. He backed away, letting it drop for now.
“Let me put a few more logs on the fire and we can eat. Suddenly I’m starving.”
He was, though he wasn’t sure the food on the plate was what he had a taste for, but it would have to be enough for the moment.
They spent the next two hours eating and talking in front of the crackling fire, when Abby suddenly looked around the room.
“You don’t have a tree or any Christmas decorations up,” she observed.
He shrugged. “There hasn’t been any time, or much point, I guess. I’m the only one here, and Charles, the real estate agent, thought it was better to show the place without a lot of decorations. Let people imagine their own lives here and all that.”
“Oh,” she remarked, her expression turning serious. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said carefully.
“Christmas decorations?”
“No, that you’re selling. I was hoping—”
Reece put a hand up. “Abby, I’d be happy to sit down and talk business with you at some point. But not right now, okay?”
“But—”
“It’s been kind of a tough day. I’d really like to relax, catch up with an old friend,” he said.
He geniunely didn’t want to talk business with Abby. He knew she’d want to convince him not to sell, or something like that, and he didn’t want to discuss that with her. It was a done deal, and that conversation was sure to put a damper on the heat building between them.
She bit her lip and looked reluctant, but nodded. “I can understand that,” she said, looking down at her wine. “I know things must have been hard for you this year,” she said vaguely, inviting him to say more, but he didn’t want to talk about any of that, either. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but he needed a night off from all of it.
“Yeah,” he said, and changed the subject. “But how about you? You live in the house alone now?”
Nothing like discreet fishing before you tried to seduce an old friend, he thought. Hopefully there wasn’t another guy in the picture, though looking at her, it was hard to believe they weren’t lined up.
She shook her head, and his relief was immediate.
“Nope, just me now. Sarah retired, and Mom and Dad are traveling all over the world. I still have a small part-time staff, of course, to help me get things done, but I handle most of it myself.”
“They don’t come home for the holidays? Your parents?”
“It would be difficult. They send gifts, and we video conference on the computer a lot. Last year they were in India, helping local people build a school. This winter, they’ve been helping down in Haiti.”
“Really? I thought they were tourists now?”
“They mix their pleasure travel with activism. It’s just their way, and they have always been more like explorers than tourists.”
He nodded, smiling. “I remember.”
“I know what they’re doing is important, and I’m a big girl. We’re busy enough through the holidays that being alone at Christmas gives me a quiet day or two to relax, read, sleep in, that kind of thing.”
“Your parents were always so progressive,” he said admiringly, but really he was thinking about Abby sleeping in, under the covers, warm and soft, curled up in something slinky with a book. Then he imagined taking the book out of her hands and slipping the lacy bit of nothing from her shoulder….
“Reece?” she said, and he realized he had gone blank, lost in his fantasy. “Are you okay?”
She seemed worried, and it bothered him. Of all the people he didn’t want worrying if he was healthy and ready to go, she was first on the list at the moment.
“Sorry. You just made me remember that summer when your parents decided to try to add selling goat cheese to the winery business, and all of the goats got loose one weekend and ate some of my dad’s vines,” he lied, unable to look away from her face. Her eyes had landed on the scar behind his ear—the skin graft had healed, but it was visible. Did it bother her?
The definite sparkle of interest in her eyes said no, he assumed.
She laughed then, breaking the bond. “He was pretty nice about it, considering.”
Her honey-brown hair was soft and slightly curled, pushed back in a haphazard way that made him want to reach out and weave his hands into it. She didn’t wear makeup, which he found refreshing. She didn’t need to. Her skin was flawless, her cheeks pink and kissable. And those lips …
“Did you ever wonder?” he heard himself ask.
Her cheeks turned rosy again, her lips parting slightly, as if she knew exactly where his mind had gone.
“Wonder what?”
He paused. They’d had a nice evening, two old friends talking over high school times and getting reacquainted. Did he really want to step into other waters? He was only back for a month or so, or however long it took to sell the winery. And the faster, the better. Abby wasn’t one of his pit stops.
The women he knew in Europe were aware of his commitment-free lifestyle, his focus on his racing. They knew the score. They also had their own agendas, liking to be seen with a well-known driver, having their picture show up in the next day’s entertainment news.
Abby had no agenda. She was just … Abby.
He still had to ask the question.
“What it might have been like if we didn’t stop that night at the lake?” he said and noted the slight catch in her breath, but she didn’t look away.
“Sure, I wondered,” she said simply.
“I was about to ask you out, back then, when you took off,” he admitted.
“You were?”
“Yeah. I wanted to know what it would be like to be with you, for real,” he said. “I always liked you, Abby. A lot.”
“Oh” was her only response, sounding slightly breathless. He took that as a good sign and plunged ahead.
“Still want to find out?” he said, in spite of every bit of better judgment he had.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she stood suddenly, setting down her wine, her movements fluttering
