reached her door, and though she’d planned to tell him good-night, kiss him and go inside alone, he asked, “Are you going to invite me in for a nightcap?”
It would probably be better if she didn’t, but it had turned out to be such a nice night, she hated to see it end just yet. “Can you promise to behave?”
He grinned. “Can you?”
God, she loved it when he teased her.
She opened the door. “Phillip, would you like to come in for a nightcap?”
“I would love to.” He followed her inside, shutting the door behind them.
Alone again. Five days ago she would have been a nervous wreck. Now she looked forward to the times they spent, just the two of them.
The room was dim, the only light from a small lamp in one corner of the room. She reached for the light switch by the door, but he intercepted her hand.
“I prefer it darker, if you don’t mind.” When she shot him a questioning look, he grinned and added, “Didn’t I tell you, I’m part vampire?”
If that was true, he could bite her neck anytime.
He crossed to the wet bar. “Brandy?”
“That sounds good.”
He poured two brandies while she took off her shoes and sweater.
Phillip sat on the sofa and when she sat down beside him, he looped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. For several minutes they just sat there, sipping their drinks in companionable silence. He was a warm, solid presence beside her, the stubble on his chin rough against her forehead. And he smelled so good. So…familiar.
Yet there was still so much about him she didn’t know. And that was okay, she realized. At first, she thought they should know one another completely before the wedding. Now she liked the idea of getting to know him gradually.
She set her drink down and curled closer, drawing her knees up and resting them over the tops of his thighs. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, taking it all in. The way he felt, the way he smelled, the thump of his pulse against her cheek. The way his arms felt around her, the sensation that she was and would always be safe there.
She stored every second of it in her memory, so that when he was gone, she wouldn’t miss him as much. Or, who knows, maybe it would make her miss him even more.
After a while he gave her a little nudge. “Are you falling asleep on me?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“How many times I imagined us like this. What it would feel like.”
“How does it feel?”
She wrapped both arms around him and squeezed, feeling sleepy and content. “Wonderful. Perfect.”
He set his glass down beside hers. “Is that all you imagined?”
She grinned up at him, knowing exactly what he was suggesting. “Usually we were kissing.”
He cupped her chin and raised her face to his, brushed his lips across hers, and a purr of pleasure curled in her throat.
He lifted his head and looked down at her. “Like that?”
“Hmmm, just like that.”
He lowered his head and kissed her again, deeper this time. And longer. And she could feel herself beginning to melt. But something was different this time. As much as she wanted him, wanted to be close, she didn’t feel the urgency that was usually there. That soul-deep ache that seemed to push them too far, too fast.
Phillip must have felt the same way, because he took it slow. Kissing, touching. And she couldn’t get over how right it felt. The way they seemed to fit, to be completely in sync.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after a while he whispered against her lips, “It’s late. I should go.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest, felt his arms tighten around her. “I wish you could stay.”
“It won’t be long before I can.”
Reluctantly she uncurled herself from around him and climbed from his lap. He rose to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. At the door, he kissed her again, but what was meant to be a quick goodbye peck progressed to another ten minutes of kissing and touching.
When he finally pulled away, they were both a bit breathless.
“I really have to go,” he said. “I have a busy day tomorrow. And I’m sure you do, too.”
He was right. She let her arms fall from around his neck and backed away from the temptation. “Is there any way you could spare a few minutes tomorrow afternoon? The decorator will be here and I could show you the plans for the suite. I want to know what you think.”
“You’re free to do whatever you’d like.”
She appreciated his trust in her, but what she would appreciate more was his input. “I want to be sure you like it, too.”
He shrugged. “If it’s that important to you.”
“It is.”
“All right. I suppose, if the designer is adequate, it might be time that I redecorate my own suite.”
It took a second for his words to sink in, and a few more for their meaning to register. Then it made sense. She suddenly knew exactly why he didn’t care what she did with the suite. And it had nothing to do with trusting her taste.
It was of no consequence to him, because he wasn’t going to be living there.
There was something wrong.
Phillip could feel it. He could see it written clearly on Hannah’s face. Although for the life of him, he had no idea what it could be.
He had done everything right tonight. And, with the exception of the stunt Sophie pulled at dinner, it hadn’t been nearly as trying as he’d anticipated. In fact, being with Hannah wasn’t a hardship at all. He enjoyed her company.
Yet, as hard as he’d tried, she was still unhappy.
“What did I do?” he asked.
She blinked rapidly, as though surprised by his question. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Did she honestly think him so daft or self-centered that he wouldn’t notice when she was upset? “You have that look,” he said. “And I have the distinct impression I did or said something wrong.”
She shook her head, too emphatically to be believable, and plastered a smile on her face. “No. Of course not.”
He sighed. “Hannah, you’re a terrible liar.”
She
