variations of color. What he’d originally thought was simply a dark, rich brown appeared to have lighter streaks, but he couldn’t be sure. “Keeping it up and hidden away is criminal.”
There was a brief hesitation while she stared at him, as if unsure how to respond. He sensed she was unused to compliments. Which told him men here were not only blind but stupid.
Finally, she chuckled softly. “Tell that to a customer who finds a long strand of hair in his candy. Eww.”
Philip conceded the point. “When you are not working, then.” Reaching out, he smoothed an errant strand, fingering its softness, then tucked it behind her ear.
She sucked in a breath. Philip dropped his hand. The air in the cramped hallway seemed to grow hotter by the second as awareness and tension flowed between them.
He knew what attraction felt like, knew the lure of sexual heat, and right now it was building like a huge, tangible presence between them.
“So, are you settling in okay? I’ve heard you guys moving around a lot, but haven’t seen much of you over the past few days. I’ve never even met your friends.”
Her voice held the tiniest hint of wistfulness. A less confident man might not have heard it, or might have misinterpreted, but Philip recognized it.
He mentally kicked himself. After the kiss they’d shared, she had to have been wondering if he had romantic intentions toward her. In fulfilling his obligations—continuing his bride hunt—for the past four days, he’d ignored the one woman he actually wanted.
Well, that was something he intended to remedy. Very soon.
“We’re fine,” he assured her. “We’ve just been getting our living quarters established. There is a lot to do.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her thick hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have come up and offered to clean—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not a maidservant.”
“No, but I could have at least made sure there were no dead bugs all over the floor.”
“There aren’t.” A tiny grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Anymore.”
“Gross,” she said with a reluctant laugh. “I suck at this landlady thing.”
“As I recall, it wasn’t a job you chose.”
“True.”
“Speaking of which, have you heard from your brother?”
Her lips tightened. “Not a single word.”
Not surprising. The cheerful young man hadn’t looked like the type who would enjoy being confronted by anyone, especially an angry sister. “I’m sure he’s all right.”
She growled. “He won’t be after I feed him a batch of fudge with a laxative icing.”
Philip didn’t know exactly what she meant, but got the feeling it didn’t bode well for Freddy. “Poisoning your sibling isn’t very nice,” he said, while privately conceding her brother likely deserved it.
“He won’t die,” she insisted.
He laughed softly. “Bloodthirsty, are you? I didn’t think you capable of murder, Claire.”
“You should have seen me after you left Sunday night.”
He had seen her. Every time he closed his eyes.
She leaned against the hallway wall. “So, have you gotten out at all to see New York?”
“A bit.”
He told her of his adventures with the subway, hearing her chuckle as he admitted he’d ridden the thing for four hours straight one day, being unsure where to get off. She gave him a few tips, talked about her own favorite things to do in the city… and gave him an idea for his next move.
Now wasn’t a good time. She looked exhausted, having worked alone all day. Plus he had some plans to make. But very soon, he would, as they said here, take his best shot.
“I should let you get inside,” he told her when he saw her struggling to hide a yawn. “You look most weary.”
“You can say that again. Making ten dozen truffles really shouldn’t be such backbreaking work.”
The days to come would be better; she wouldn’t have to work so hard. He’d make sure of it, even if he had to send Shelby to sell sweets in the store and set Teeny to baking in the kitchen, so Claire was able to take a break now and then. Picturing such a thing, he smiled.
“What?”
“I’m just imagining my… friend Teeny working in your kitchen, making delicate chocolates. ’Tis not a pretty picture.”
“Bull-in-the-china-shop sort?”
“More like a mastodon.”
She chuckled, as if visualizing it. “I’m afraid I can’t give him a job right now, anyway. I can barely make payroll for my salesclerk, who I can afford only four days a week.”
Hmm. How much, he wondered, would a kitchen assistant require? And could the salesclerk be persuaded to work a few more hours for money slipped to her on the side?
“Well, I should go in,” Claire said.
“Yes, of course. Good night,” he told her, resisting the urge to touch her again.
But he would, very soon. He just had a few things to work out. In the meantime, he would get to know her, be someone she could rely on. He would befriend her, with courtesy and politeness. And see what happened.
“Good night, Philip.”
Her smile was gentle, sweet, and his heart clenched as she nodded and walked to her door. After she unlocked it and let herself inside, he listened for the click of the bolt. Once he was sure she was safely locked in, he made his way back upstairs, but didn’t go into his cold, lonely apartment just yet. Instead, he stood on the landing for several long minutes, thinking about that smile, that laugh, that naughty gleam in her eye. Thinking about that hair. About sinking his hands into it and feeling it brush against his bare skin… his chest, his throat, his stomach.
That was when he acknowledged that he’d wasted enough time looking for someone else. The only woman he wanted lived right downstairs from him. He could walk around for days, find ways to be introduced to a hundred more single woman and still not be drawn to anyone the way he was to Claire Hoffman.
And so as soon as he could arrange it, his courtship of her would begin in earnest.
CLAIRE HAD BEEN TELLING herself for several days that she didn’t mind that her handsome tenant hadn’t sought her out in private after that first night. Yes, he’d kissed her. Yes, he’d rocked her world in the process. Yes, he’d left her dazed, confused and dreaming fantastic dreams every night since. But he hadn’t promised anything.
Maybe in Spain, deep
