Maisy gave Keller another furtive glance. He may be screwy and he may be a Fitch but, damn, she couldn’t deny he was one spectacular-looking hunk of man. The kind of guy who could almost make her believe in romance novel heroes again.
Oops. Wrong thing to think about. Maisy was immediately inundated with kinky images of Sir Keller and Lady Maisy, hard at play. Her nipples grew hard and tight as she recalled the carnal scene. Thank God she had a coat on over her sweater-set because there’d be no way to hide her telltale arousal…
Comfortably immersed in light small talk during the forty-five-minute ride, Maisy found herself so captivated by their effortless, flowing conversation that she hadn’t paid any attention to the passing scenery. When the driver stopped and opened the door, Maisy was surprised to find they were parked in front of an imposing lakefront high-rise. It was the sort of place she’d only seen in fancy magazines.
As Keller exited the vehicle, she had a difficult time imagining them spreading a blanket there on the concrete and digging in to a tub of potato salad while passersby ogled them.
“This is where we’re having our picnic?” She stepped out of the limo as he guided her.
“Yup.” Keller gave her a twinkle-eyed smile. “Chilly?”
To the bone. “Nope, not a bit. The lake air is refreshing…exhilarating…don’t you think?”
The bright January sun offered minimal warmth in contrast to the glacial Lake Michigan breeze. Maisy offered a clenched-teeth grin to keep them from chattering as she stood in the brisk, biting wind.
“I’ll have you all warm and toasty in a few minutes.” Keller offered his arm and they entered the large gilded door held open by a doorman. Maisy bit back a smile as she pictured several appealing methods Keller could use to raise her temperature… Chainmail anyone?
The building’s lobby had more marble, gold and crystal than she’d seen since her last travel-agent-tour of one of the new luxury cruse ships. Sedate yet stunning. Dazzling without being garish.
“Is this where you work?” she asked as they stepped into an oiled walnut-paneled elevator.
“I conduct business here when I’m in the city.” Keller whisked a security key card across a pad at the elevator’s control panel. “It’s a good centralized location.”
“Complete with picnic tables on the roof, hmm?” Maisy noted as he pressed the button for the top floor.
“Something like that.” The sound of Keller’s laughter was rich, deep and easy.
After a rapid transport to the highest floor, the elevator doors parted. Maisy fully expected to step into a hallway or vestibule but they entered right into what looked like somebody’s home instead. She swallowed a gasp as she took in her surroundings. With its sleek, clean lines and artful yet minimalist décor, the place looked like something out of a swanky architectural magazine.
The first thing she noticed was a large still-life painting of a wine bottle and two filled glasses flanked by a wedge of ripe cheese, some crackers and a small bunch of grapes. Painted in the realism style, the perfectly executed scene looked so authentic, so much like a photograph, it made her mouth water.
Her gaze skittered from left to right, observing an abundance of beige marble, onyx black touches, bold artwork, a massive see-through fireplace and a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows affording a breathtaking view of the cityscape and Lake Michigan. Sophisticated and contemporary, the open floor plan was somehow warm and inviting at the same time.
“Wow,” she breathed. “What is this place? It looks like a penthouse suite.”
“Bingo,” Keller said with a grin. “It’s my home away from home.”
Maisy fought to keep her jaw from dropping. “You live here?”
“Sometimes. It’s my city retreat. My main house is in the country. This place is good for entertaining out-of-town clients and conducting business meetings. Whenever I need a city fix I come here and get my fill.”
Maisy slanted him a skeptical look. “I thought you said we were going on a picnic. You never said anything about bringing me up to your apartment. Why, Mr. Fitch…did you bring me here to see your etchings?” she asked with a coy smile.
Flashing a devilish grin, Keller flexed his forefinger. “Follow me.” They walked through the length of the vast apartment to a set of massive sliding glass doors leading to the rooftop. “Your picnic as promised, milady.” Bowing, he extended his hand, ushering Maisy through the door he’d slid open.
His milady remark had her ill-disciplined mind skating toward thoughts of him as Sir Keller in her dream.
Expecting to be chilled to the bone, Maisy found herself warm and comfortable. A quick glance at the mostly glass structure surrounding the large area explained the pleasant temperature. This outside room was far from a typical rooftop patio. It was a beautifully appointed extension of the apartment with furniture, artwork, lighting and plenty of green, leafy plants.
“I had this section of the roof enclosed so I can use it all year round.” Keller gestured toward a table and chairs. “But we still get the great views.”
Maisy smiled as she noted the white linen tablecloth and napkins, gold-edged white china, crystal goblets and gold flatware. A bowl of sumptuous fresh fruit sat at the center of the table, flanked by white pillar candles in crystal holders, which Keller lit. A large wicker picnic basket rested at the edge of the table.
He slid a panel in the wall and pushed one of the many buttons there. The sensuous sounds of jazz instrumentals cosseted them, adding to an already perfect atmosphere.
Properly impressed, Maisy arched an eyebrow. “You think of everything, Keller.”
“I do my best.” He graced her with a smooth, sexy smile that made her feel she was way out of his league. “And if you happen to get chilly,” he offered, “there are small blankets over there.” He pointed to what looked like a curtained bed with decorative pillows and several chenille throws.
“I’m fine. It’s surprisingly comfortable. And beautiful,” Maisy told him, having a difficult time looking away from the fanciful bed. It reminded her of something out of the Arabian Nights. She imagined a handsome, smooth operator like Keller was used to the women he brought up here gracefully sliding from chair to bed and spreading wide for him.
“Thanks.” Opening the wicker basket, he retrieved two bottles of red wine. Expertly removing the corks, he smiled. “Here’s something guaranteed to warm your innards, Maisy, even if you decide to explore the uncovered portion of the rooftop.” He poured them each a glass of the smoky, blood-red wine. “I hope you like cabernet.”
Cabernet…cabernet… What the heck was it she’d read about cabernet? “I do, very much. It’s the one red wine that’s perfectly compatible with chocolate.” Quite proud of herself for retrieving that cosmopolitan tidbit from her memory banks, Maisy gave an urbane smile.
“I’m impressed.” Keller nodded, studying her with interest. “Not too many people know that.”
Maintaining her cultured expression, Maisy tittered a little laugh. “Let’s just say that as a chocoholic, I’ve made it my mission to know everything I possibly can relating to the confection…” With a furtive glance she held the glass under her nose and breathed deeply, hoping she correctly remembered what she’d been taught at the wine tasting class she and Norman had attended.
“Mmmm, great nose,” she murmured, taking in the heady fragrance and doing her best to appear polished and sophisticated. After clinking glasses, she took a sip and closed her eyes. She held the wine in her mouth, swishing it around for a few seconds before swallowing, just as she’d learned.
“Mmmm,” she murmured again, adeptly avoiding a shudder as she swallowed the unpleasant liquid.
As the cabernet accosted her uneducated palette, Maisy’s eyes flew open in shocked disgust. She quickly did her best to paste a delighted expression across her face. All she tasted was a non-sweet, grapey-mushroomy fluid she was none too thrilled about. She couldn’t imagine why on earth anyone would want to spoil
the taste of chocolate by washing it down with this stuff.
To Maisy’s chagrin, an emerging head-to-toe shudder took hold. Hopefully, Keller would just think she was chilly.
He clinked glasses with her and took a sip. Maisy watched for his reaction. Maybe the stuff was spoiled. Keller’s pleased expression as he swallowed said otherwise.
“This one has a nice oakiness,” he noted.
Oakiness. Yeah, the taste could definitely be described as wet wood all right. “Just what I was about to say,” she cooed. “I also taste currants and detect a slight undertone of spice. It has a deep, rich earthiness,” she added, mimicking the comments she’d heard at the wine tasting.
Gazing up at Keller, Maisy offered a gracious smile. “This cabernet is wonderful, Keller,” she flat out lied. “Wonderful choice.”
He nodded approvingly. “It appears you know how to recognize and appreciate a good wine, Maisy. That makes something we have in common.”
Maisy smiled, almost chuckled in fact. Seeing as how Keller had bought every bogus word, she felt pretty damn confident. Bluffing her way through a wine tasting was a cinch. A snap. Piece of cake. Any buffoon could do it. Puffed with her stellar performance, she couldn’t resist showing off more of her phony wine acumen.
“I usually prefer dry wines with red meat and wet wines with white meat.” Tossing the comment off with a blasé smile, Maisy was taken aback when Keller nearly choked on his wine. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said through his coughs. “Just went down the wrong way, I guess. So…you drink a lot of wet wines, do you?” The corners of Keller’s mouth twitched.
“Yes. Like Riesling with salmon. The wine’s subtle wetness pairs beautifully with the flavorful fish, don’t you agree?”
Keller stared at her blankly for a moment. “Absolutely,” he said finally, covering his mouth to cough again.
Oh this was fun! Maisy was impressing the socks off him with her faux wine expertise.
An expression of amusement crossing his features, Keller studied Maisy for a moment before reaching into the wicker basket. “Sounds like you’ve been a wine lover for some time.”
Full of bravado, Maisy gave a flick of her wrist. “Oh, eons.” She huffed a blasé chuckle.
“How about champagne? Like it?” Keller brought out a couple of small covered plates from the basket. Unwrapping a perfectly ripened wedge of French brie, he placed it on the table along with some sesame seed water crackers and two tiny pearl-handled knives.
“Of course,” Maisy answered matter-of-factly as she sipped from her glass of cabernet. This time she willed herself not to shudder as the putrid liquid went down.
“Yup,” Keller said. “Nothing like a fine glass of champagne to compliment a great dinner.” Reaching into the basket again, he withdrew a plate of assorted pâté slices and another with cloves of roasted garlic and scalloped pats of butter. “What’s your favorite brand?”
Maisy whipped her head toward Keller. “Of champagne, you mean?” He nodded. “Well, uh…” Never having ingested anything more costly than a two-dollar bottle of sparkling wine, she was at a loss.
“Gee, isn’t that funny.” She took another sip of wine, smiling at him over the rim of her glass, stalling for time. “I can’t seem to remember. The name’s right on the tip of my tongue. It’s one of those expensive French ones.”
“You mean somewhere in the six- to eight-dollar range?” Keller asked, still sporting that curiously amused expression.
“Yes.” Maisy cleared her throat and flashed a tentative smile. “I believe they’re so much tastier than the two- to four-dollar variety.”
Keller’s lip twitched. “Oh, without a doubt.” He dug into the basket again, depositing two tiny silver boxes of Belgian chocolates on the table, immediately capturing Maisy’s attention.
She couldn’t help grinning. Hot dogs, potato salad and coleslaw, indeed. This guy really knew how to put on a picnic. He’d succeeded in completely bowling her over.
“Keller, this is all amazing. But I don’t understand. Back in Norman’s office I thought you said you just came from the airport. How in the world did you manage to pull all this together so fast?”
The smile he offered was hot, sexy and seductive. It warmed her in places the cabernet didn’t reach.
“I kept thinking about you during that plane ride back from California.” His voice was even sexier than his smile. “I called you at the travel agency but you were on another call. So I spoke to Norman. He told me you were free this afternoon and I could stop by.”
Maisy cocked her head, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “You talked to Norman? This morning?” Keller nodded. “You mean, before your flight left from California?”
“No, from the plane.” Keller smiled and sipped some wine.
Bewildered, Maisy spun her body toward him. “You called me while in flight?”
“I told you I was thinking about you.” Keller’s chuckle was husky. “Since you kept popping into my thoughts during my business trip, I was hoping I’d be able to see you when I got back.” His eyes sparkling with amusement, Keller reached over and lifted Maisy’s chin, which had apparently been hanging open for a while.
“After I talked to Norman and ironed everything out with him, I called Williams, my limo driver. I had him gather what I needed for our picnic lunch and…voila.” Keller gestured toward the linen-covered table spread with gourmet edibles.
Shaking her head in amazement, Maisy placed her wineglass on the table, stroking its stem. “So that’s why Norman called Carol to switch her day off and come in today, instead. Why that meddling…” Maisy gave in to an exasperated sigh.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on Norman,” Keller laughed. “He’s a good guy.”
“For a busybody.” Hiding her emerging smile, Maisy took a leisurely sip of cabernet. It tasted somewhat less offensive this time. She slanted Keller an inquisitive glance. “Just what exactly did Norman say to you?”
With an uncertain squint, Keller admitted, “He kind of clued me in on the fact that you’re not too crazy about me being Sharon’s brother. But, believe it or not, I think I already got that message from you the other day at Chowder Bay.”
Maisy felt the color rise in her cheeks. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that…well…” After another fortifying sip of wine, which tasted better all the time, she looked up into Keller’s eyes. “How much do you know about that whole situation with me and John and your sister?”
Expelling a deep breath, and looking rather uncomfortable, Keller shifted in his seat. “The condensed version. As told and interpreted by Sharon Fitch Morganfield. Let’s just say that it wasn’t a very pretty tale and you were definitely not the heroine.” He offered an apologetic smile.
“Good grief. I can only imagine what she must have told you about me.” She drained her glass and Keller poured them each another.
“I think it’s safe to say Sharon’s account is somewhat biased.” He laughed. “I can tell you one thing though—she certainly didn’t describe you looking like this.” Arching his eyebrows, he motioned from Maisy’s head to her toes with an appreciative smile. “That’s why I was so flabbergasted when you told me your name at the restaurant. I’d expected Maisy Morganfield to be…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Maisy waived her hand in a dismissive fashion. “We went through that already at the restaurant, remember? I’m sure your dear sister had no trouble finding a wealth of graphic terms when it came to describing her dead husband’s ex-wife.” She expelled a tuneful sigh.
Keller stumbled for words. “I’m afraid she didn’t speak of you in the most glowing of terms.”
“Don’t worry about it, Keller.” Maisy hiked her shoulder in a resigned shrug. “I’m well aware your sister thought I was a whale. I was awfully big back then. John’s wake was the first time Sharon had seen me since I lost the weight.”
Keller looked Maisy up and down again,
furrowing his brow. “How much weight did—” He held up his hand and groaned. “Sorry, that was rude. Never mind.”
“No, it’s okay.” Taking a deep breath as she topped a cracker with a dab of brie, Maisy hesitantly admitted, “Over a hundred pounds.”
“What?” Keller’s eyes shot wide open. “No way.”
“Yup. During those ten horrible years with John, I used food to drown my sorrows. Not the proudest time of my life.”
“Maisy, you’re so incredibly beautiful. Gorgeous. I just can’t imagine you looking any other way. You’re…well, you’re just not the fat type, Maisy.” He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I hope you know what I’m trying to say.”
Maisy stared at him in utter astonishment. She still wasn’t used to her slender identity. Glancing down at herself, she had to chuckle when she saw her arms drawn tight around her middle, intent on hiding those old phantom rolls of fat. As she relaxed her posture, a tingly rush of excitement danced through her system.
Holy shit…he thinks I’m gorgeous!
She gulped down a mouthful of wine.
“Thank you, Keller. What a lovely compliment. I’ve come a long way in the last couple of years.” Maisy felt all warm and cozy inside, from the cabernet, no doubt. Or maybe it was sitting so close to Keller that caused her veins to heat.
After giving her another appreciative once-over, Keller cleared his throat and took another sip of wine. He held his wineglass aloft by the stem, twirling it slowly as he studied it. “Nice full body… Mmm, and just look at those great legs.”
Preoccupied with positioning a slice of pate on her cracker, Maisy stopped cold. “Excuse me?” She scooted her feet out of sight under her chair, crossing her ankles. “Look, Keller, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the compliments but—”
After a quick glance her way Keller threw his head back, laughing.
Maisy frowned. “What’s so damn funny?”
“The wine, Maisy.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m talking about the wine.” He held his glass high and twirled it. “See the way it coats the glass and runs down the sides? Those are the legs. This wine’s got great legs.”
Absolutely Not Page 8
