my choice, I would much rather sink into a steamy romance novel, but you don’t seem to have any of those on your bookshelves.”
“My apologies. I’ll order several first thing in the morning.”
“I doubt that, but thank you for offering.” She pointed to the tin. “First, let me say how impressed I am that you have hot chocolate in your house.”
“I don’t have it often, but every now and then you gotta indulge.” He measured out several tablespoons of the dark powder, then handed her the container. “It’s my favorite. It’s German, from a little shop in what was East Berlin.”
She studied the label and tried not to laugh. “And they ship it to you?”
“Not just me. They’ll ship to anyone.”
“Uh-huh. You can’t just get the stuff from the grocery store like everybody else?”
“It’s an indulgence. Why not have what I really want?”
A philosophy she planned to emulate just as soon as she had an extra nickel or so, she promised herself. For now, her indulgences were things like meat and paying her light bill.
He stirred the powder into the milk for nearly a minute, then filled each of the mugs. He pulled one of those whipped cream spray cans from the refrigerator and added a generous dollop to the mugs before handing her one. She inhaled the scent of sweet chocolate and nearly moaned.
“You do know how to treat a girl,” she said before taking a sip.
Not moaning became even harder. The drink was smooth and sweet, without being too sweet. The chocolate flavor indulged her senses, especially her taste buds.
“This is so good it’s dangerous.”
Ronan settled next to her and grinned. “Women and chocolate.”
“It’s a thing. We can’t help it.” She took another drink and sighed. “Oh, man, I could get used to this and I bet it has like a billion calories. Does it?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“I’ll send you home with the can.”
“Thanks, but don’t you dare. I’m short and curvy. I told you, weight finds me much more easily than it does my leggy friends. I try not to be bitter, but sometimes I can’t help myself. And don’t say you understand. You’re a guy and you have a job that’s physical. You can eat the entire grocery store and not gain a pound, which annoys me and I don’t want to talk about it.”
He studied her for a second, then smiled again. “I see the late hour doesn’t make you any less feisty.”
Feisty? He thought she was feisty? That was very close to sexy. She told herself not to think about her braless state. She was wearing an incredibly baggy sweatshirt. He would never notice. Still, it was nice to pretend, even for a second. Although after the conversation they’d had at dinner, he would probably be terrified if she made the slightest move. Speaking of which...
“I’m sorry about the app.”
One brow rose. “Putting it on your phone or discussing it?”
“Talking about it. I really was just checking out the questions. There are a lot of them and some are really interesting. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Scare is strong.”
She rolled her eyes. “You were terrified.”
He chuckled. “Your words, not mine.” He lifted his mug. “What do you normally do when you can’t sleep?”
“Work. It’s relaxing and eventually I get tired enough to sleep. I would have done that tonight, but I don’t have anything with me except a few sheets of origami paper.”
“Do you ever paint?”
“Sometimes. I’m not very good at it. I used to paint all the time. One day I finished a watercolor and realized it was awful. I got so frustrated I tore it up. When the pieces settled on my desk, they’d created something really beautiful and that was the beginning.”
“From failure, success.”
She smiled. “Exactly. I enjoy the unexpected and I’ve been working with mixed media ever since.”
“Which explains the trash.”
Ronan and his brothers often teased her about her found objects that she worked into her pieces. “It’s not trash. Just because someone doesn’t want something doesn’t mean it’s trash.”
He held up his free hand. “Don’t get riled. You’re supposed to be getting sleepy.”
“Trash,” she grumbled. “Your inability to see the potential in things is surprising, given what you do for a living.”
“Like I said, feisty.”
There was a tone to his voice. Or maybe she just wanted to hear something. Regardless, she liked the slightly affectionate, slightly teasing sound. Maybe it was the late hour or the storm raging outside, but she liked this Ronan. He was much more approachable and charming than the one she knew at work.
He’d always been appealing, and not just based on his features. There was something...wounded about him. She knew the danger of the brooding, damaged guy and had always avoided the type, but there was something about him that drew her in.
“Would you like to work?” he asked, drawing her attention back to their conversation.
“Sure.”
“Then come with me.”
She thought he would lead her to his studio behind the house. Instead he went upstairs, toward the guest room.
For a second, she wondered what he was going to do. If he pulled her close and kissed her, well, she had no idea how she would react. The thought of Ronan touching her was kind of intriguing. She felt a slight shiver low in her belly.
But instead of heading to her bedroom and making her question his definition of “work,” he stopped on the landing in front of the curved wall decorated with molding. He pressed in and the wall popped open to reveal a hidden door.
Natalie jumped back and nearly spilled the rest of her cocoa. “I had no idea that was there.”
“I think that’s the point. I’m not sure why the builder put in the secret room. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I made it into an art studio.” He walked inside and turned on the lights.
She was about to say he already had the custom studio he’d built when she followed him inside and saw this space was totally different. There weren’t any ovens, no raw materials for making glass. Instead there was a long counter at desk height, a drafting table and several easels. Cabinets filled the walls on either side of the door.
The room itself was in the turret, she realized as she looked around. There were huge windows that would let in light during the day. Tonight the storm raged just beyond the panes. She could practically feel the fury as the wind
