that had made Cecilia change her sheets and put out fresh flowers from her garden before she left for work that morning. She enjoyed coming home to a clean house after a long day in the clinic, and tonight the faint whiff of the flowers only added to the romantic haze she had slipped into.
The small Tiffany-style lamp on her nightstand was connected to a timer so she didn’t have to walk into a dark room after working late. The lamp glowed softly now, throwing gentle illumination over the 1930s-era dark pecan bedroom furniture and the hand-pieced quilt she used as a bedspread. Period accessories gleaned from flea markets and antique shops decorated the vanity and double dresser, and more family photos hung on the walls. Numerous soft, colorful throw pillows turned the room into an old-fashioned, comfy boudoir, complete with a bentwood rocker tucked into one corner.
This was Cecilia’s haven, the place where she hid out to read and daydream. Though the decor had changed, it was the same room she’d had as a girl, never having the desire to move into the rooms that had been used by her mother or her brother. She rarely brought anyone in; even Eric had stepped foot in her room only a handful of times, and then only to make various repairs.
It took an enormous leap of faith for her to invite Geoff Bingham into her private space. For a woman who generally took as few risks as possible in her life, this was pretty huge on the adventure scale.
Maybe he sensed her sudden attack of nerves. He turned to her and gave her a smile that was both gentle and endearing. “It’s not too late to walk me to the door.”
“I know, but the thing is, I don’t want to do that yet.”
“Can’t say it’s what I want you to do, either,” he murmured, his smile crooked again.
Drawing a deep breath, she walked her fingers up his chest. “Tell me again about my eyes.”
“They are—” he lowered his head to speak against her lips “—amazing.”
She let herself drift into the kiss, into the moment. She’d had a few great kisses in her life—some that she would have described at the time as spectacular—but there was something different about kissing Geoff. She couldn’t think of a word that wasn’t clichéd or trite or simply inadequate, but there was definitely something….
Apparently he found time to work out during his travels. Beneath the conservative businessman’s clothing was a lean, solid, nicely muscled body. She had noticed that during their first slow dance. Her observation was confirmed when she slid his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it over the rocker. Even through his shirt, she could see that his shoulders were wide and his stomach flat. What she couldn’t see, she mused as she went to work on his tie, was whether his chest was smooth or furry. Tanned or pale.
Only moments later she was able to confirm that he was lightly tanned and that there was only a smattering of dark hair down the center of his chest. Drawing his shirt slowly down his arms, she tried to anticipate how it would feel to be pressed against that very nice chest, with nothing between them except desire.
She couldn’t wait to find out.
Holding her gaze with his own, he slipped his hands behind her. A brush of cool air followed her zipper down her back, and then her dress pooled around her bare feet. She couldn’t really remember kicking off her sandals, but then the details of this night were beginning to blur into a haze of sensation. She had given up on rational thought a long time ago—maybe even the first time Geoff had smiled at her.
Unfortunately, her intuition hadn’t warned her to don sexy lingerie beneath the red dress. She was still wearing the serviceable beige bra and matching panties she had worn to work. Before she had time to regret the choice, the problem had become moot; Cecilia barely had time to reflect on how suspiciously good Geoff was at removing women’s undergarments before she found herself in his arms again. With nothing between them but desire.
It felt even better than she could have imagined.
As he lowered her to the bed, she came very close to telling him that she never did things like this. That it was so unlike her to bring a man she had just met into her bed. She bit the words back because they sounded so overused. So difficult to believe—even though in this case they were so absolutely true.
She could only hope he somehow understood without being told that this was a special evening. A brief visit to fantasyland.
Reality intruded momentarily when he retrieved a plastic package from his pants pocket—did he always carry condoms or had he hoped to hook up with someone tonight?—but she pushed the question to the back of her mind to ponder later.
He kissed her eyelids. “Have I mentioned that I have a thing for big brown eyes?”
“I—” She was forced to clear her throat before she could speak. Apparently the fact that they were practically glued together in her bed wasn’t affecting his voice the way it was hers, though it was certainly affecting other parts of him dramatically enough. “I think you have.”
His lips trailed across her cheek. “Did I tell you how much I like the dimples at the corners of your mouth?” he asked, then pressed a kiss just there.
She felt those dimples deepen. “I don’t think you have mentioned that.”
The tip of his tongue swept across her lower lip, causing a shiver of reaction. “Consider it said.”
She could only nod this time.
Scooting downward a bit on the bed, he nibbled a line from her chin down her throat to the top of her shoulder. “Should I keep listing the parts of you that I like best? Because I warn you, it could take the rest of the night.”
Arching into his explorations, she closed her eyes and threaded her fingers into his hair. “I just happen to be available all night,” she managed to say.
He lifted his head from his downward path just long enough to flash her a wickedly beautiful smile. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”
The outrageous idea came to her while she was making coffee the next morning. It hit her with enough force to make her stumble, almost dumping coffee grounds on the spotless linoleum floor.
She placed a hand on a countertop to steady her while she took a moment to wonder if she had just slipped over the edge of sanity. Surely she must be crazy to even consider what she suddenly found herself contemplating.
Dimly aware of the sound of the shower running in the back of the house, she knew she had only a few minutes to gather her composure—and, perhaps, her courage—before facing Geoff.
It was still early on this Saturday morning—not quite 8 a.m. She’d woken first, a bit startled with the realization that she wasn’t alone in her bed. Resisting the opportunity to watch Geoff sleep—and he had looked as delicious with tousled hair and a shadow of beard as she had thought he would—she had slipped out of the bed and into the shower.
By the time Geoff had roused, looking a bit embarrassed that jet lag and a strenuous night had caused him to sleep so heavily, Cecilia had already donned a T-shirt and shorts, pulled her hair into a loose braid and applied judicious touches of makeup. Urging him to take his time in the shower, she had promised to have breakfast ready when he came out.
Hastily dumping coffee into the filter, she turned on the coffeemaker and set out cereal, fruit, milk and yogurt on the kitchen table. Remembering Geoff’s choice
