before he realized she couldn’t see him. “No. By the way, do you have a flashlight?”
“I have one, but it’s upstairs.”
“What about candles?”
“I have tons of them. Getting to them will prove somewhat difficult.”
“Where are they?”
“They’re in the pantry off the kitchen.”
“Lead the way and I’ll follow you.”
Turning in the direction she hoped led out of her office, Tessa took small, halting steps, one hand held out in front of her, Micah following closely behind. She found the hallway, her fingertips trailing along the wall. At the end of the hallway she turned to her left and walked through a small antechamber and into the kitchen.
“Don’t move,” she said in the blackness that seemed to swallow her whole. “I have to get my bearings.”
Micah stood completely still, all of his senses operating on full alert. He heard Tessa moving about the space, then a soft moan of pain followed by a whispered expletive. “What happened?”
“I bumped my shin.”
“Are you okay?” His voice sounded abnormally loud in the eerie silence.
“I will be as soon as I locate the stove.”
His brow furrowed. “What’s up with the stove?”
“I have a gas range.”
Micah’s frown vanished. Not only was Tessa Whitfield beautiful but he found her levelheaded. She hadn’t panicked or dissolved into hysterics once the power went out. One by one the jets to the stove-top range in a cooking island came on. There was enough light for him to see Tessa’s shadowy figure move to a corner of the kitchen. He was galvanized into action as she gathered up candleholders from a drawer under the countertop.
Working quickly, Tessa set out more than two dozen holders and tea lights on the cooking island, the countertops and a table in a breakfast nook, while he lit them with an automatic lighter.
Micah shrugged out of his jacket, draping it on the back of a tall stool at the cooking island as Tessa stared at the man staring back at her.
Smiling, she said, “It’s not the first time I’m thankful that I don’t have an all-electric kitchen.”
“Do you always keep so many candles on hand?”
She nodded, crossed her arms under her breasts and rested a hip against the countertop. “I have hundreds of them. I usually eat outdoors during the warmer weather and use them for illumination rather than spotlights.” What she didn’t tell Micah was that she found candlelight calming, relaxing.
Affecting a similar pose, Micah crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you the outdoorsy type?”
Tessa’s pouty lips formed an attractive moue, and Micah’s midnight gaze lingered on her mouth. He’d found her face incredibly beautiful in the light, but with the glow of flickering candlelight she’d become mesmerizing.
A mysterious smile crinkled the corners of Tessa’s eyes as she stared at the tall man standing only a few feet away. “My favorite outdoor activities include sitting under an umbrella sipping a tropical concoction or grabbing a few winks with the sound of water lapping up on a beach as background music.”
Throwing back his head, Micah laughed, the warm sound bubbling up from his broad chest. “I suppose I’d never find you on a ski slope.”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “Never,” she confirmed. “Do you ski?”
He nodded. “Yes. My parents are avid skiers.”
It was obvious the Sanborns liked cold weather. Why else would Bridget schedule a New Year’s Eve wedding in the northeast? Thinking of Micah’s sister reminded Tessa why he was in her kitchen.
She straightened. “Speaking of cold weather, I think we’d better talk about your sister’s wedding.” She’d planned to give Micah an informational packet for his sister, but that along with the other literature she usually gave to prospective brides was in her office.
Reaching for his jacket on the stool, Micah withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Tessa. “I took a few notes when I last spoke to Bridget.”
She unfolded the single sheet of paper, holding it close to the flickering flames. She could hardly read the scribble. Her arching eyebrows lifted. “What language is this?”
Micah’s jaw tightened. “It’s English,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
Tessa handed him the paper. “You’re going to have to translate this for me.”
He scowled. He knew he didn’t have the most legible handwriting, but no one had ever mistaken it for a foreign language. “You’ve got jokes, Ms-s-s. Whitfield?” He had drawn out the Ms. to several syllables.
“No, I don’t. And it’s Miss Whitfield.”
“I thought running your own company would make you a liberated woman.”
Tessa pulled back her shoulders. “I am liberated—but not so much so that I don’t expect a man to hold a door open for me, push and pull back my chair and stand up whenever I enter a room.”
A slow smile parted his mobile mouth at the same time he angled his head. “That’s what I like—an old-fashioned woman.”
“I’m not old-fashioned,” she countered. “It’s just that I like my men to have home training.”
“Does your man have home training, Tessa?”
There was a pulse beat of silence before she said, “No.” The single word was barely a whisper.
“And why doesn’t he have home training, Tessa?” Micah asked, his deep baritone voice dropping an octave.
Because right now I don’t have a man, she mused.
She wanted to tell Micah he should mind his business but couldn’t. He was the brother of her client, and the courtesy she afforded her clients extended to family members. Ninety-five percent of her business came from referrals.
Tilting her chin in what she hoped was an arrogant gesture, she affected a supercilious smile. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was led to believe your purpose for coming to Signature Bridals was to discuss your sister’s upcoming nuptials.”
Micah went completely still. Nothing moved. Not even his eyes. “Your assumption is correct.”
Moving closer, close enough for several strands of her wayward hairstyle to graze his chin, Tessa gave him a direct stare. “Then it should be your sister’s wedding that we should be talking about, not what I like in a man.”
Micah inhaled the sweet scent clinging to her hair and a different woodsy fragrance on her body. Not only did she look good but she also smelled delicious.
“You
