by Sara Orwig
“Garrett, show me more of your work,” she said, her voice breathless. She wanted his kisses, yet she felt she should resist and have some control. Garrett had come into her life like a whirlwind and she needed to show some resistance before he totally uprooted her career and schedules. Deep down, she had an instinctive feeling that Garrett was more than just an appealing man who excited her.
“Better yet, come with me and I’ll show you where I want to hang your painting. There are two possible rooms—one is the billiard room, the other is a large living area. I entertain there and it’s not as formal as some of the other rooms.”
She followed him down the wide hall. “You really need a map for this mansion.”
He smiled. “Your place wasn’t small either.”
“I’m so accustomed to it, I don’t give a thought to the size.”
“Nor do I.” He motioned toward open double doors. She entered a large room that had two glass walls. One end of the room bowed out in a sweeping glass curve, giving the room light and a sensation of being outdoors. The other end featured a massive brick fireplace. Leather furniture and dark fruitwood lent a masculine touch.
“This is a livable room. Very comfortable,” he said. “I’m in here a lot.” He led her across the room and she saw a familiar painting she had done a year earlier.
“I like it there,” she said, looking at her painting on his wall with others in a grouping. “A prominent spot in a room you like and live in. Now you can think of me when you see it,” she added lightly, teasing him.
“I’ll always think of you when I see it,” he said, his solemn tone giving a deeper meaning to his words.
“Sure you will,” she said, laughing. “Is this the room where you’d like to hang the other painting?”
“Yes, possibly. Where do you think it should go?”
Aware of his attention on her, she strolled around the room, selecting and then rejecting spots until she stopped. “I think this is a good place.”
“It is. One other possibility you should consider is over the hearth. It’s a sizable painting. I think it fits this room.”
“That would be the most prominent spot in the room,” she said, surprised and pleased.
“I think it would look good there.” He shed his coat. “Let me hold it up and see what you think.”
She watched as he picked up the painting and held it in place.
She smiled at him. “It looks great there. Are you sure?”
He grinned. “I’ll get tools and hang it.”
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Let’s have a drink and you can supervise the hanging.”
“I can get the drinks,” she said, moving to the bar in the corner of the room. “What would you like?”
“I think I’ll have beer.”
“And I’ll have red wine,” she stated. While she got a wineglass and opened a bottle, he disappeared. By the time he returned, she was on a leather couch in front of the fireplace with the drinks on a table. He placed an armload of tools on a chair and pulled off his tie. He twisted free the top buttons of his shirt—something so ordinary and simple yet it filled her with heat and she longed to get up and unbutton the rest for him. He picked up his beer, raising the bottle high.
“Here’s to improving the looks of my house by adding a Sophia Rivers painting.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, standing and picking up her drink to touch his cold bottle. Again, when she looked into his eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Each time they almost kissed, her longing intensified. How soon would they be in each other’s arms?
Sipping her red wine, she stepped back. His gaze remained locked on hers. Watching her, he sipped his beer and then turned away, breaking the spell.
He picked up the painting. “I’ll hold this and you tell me when I have it in exactly the right spot.” He held the painting high, and then set it down. “Just a minute. I can put myself back together later,” he said as he took off his gold cuff links and folded back his immaculate cuffs. “Now, let’s try this again.”
Slightly disheveled, he looked sexy, appealing. She tried to focus on the painting, but was having a difficult time keeping her attention off the man.
“To the right and slightly higher,” she said. After several adjustments, she nodded. “That’s perfect.”
He leaned back to look while he held the picture. Setting it down, he picked up chalk to mark a place on the bricks before pulling the tape measure out.
She sipped her wine while he worked. In an amazingly short time he had her painting hanging in place and he stepped away.
“Let’s look at it.”
He took her arm and they walked across the large room to study the result of his work. She was aware of the warmth of him beside her. He looked at his watch. “Shall we go eat now, or should I just throw some steaks on the grill?”
“If we eat here, it’s fine with me.”
He leaned down to look directly into her eyes. “Are you certain you don’t mind my cooking?”
“Now I’m curious,” she said. “I’ll view it as an adventure.”
“Steaks at home it is.” He draped his arm across her shoulders. “It’s a nice evening. We’ll eat on the terrace.”
They carried their drinks outside, and Sophia was again surprised by the house.
“This isn’t a terrace, Garrett—it’s another kitchen, plus a terrace, plus a living area, plus a pool.”
“With Houston’s weather, it works well through the fall and winter,” he replied, crossing to a stainless-steel gas grill built into a stone wall. In minutes he had the grill fired up and he sat with her on comfortable chairs in the outdoor living room.
“So where are you going, Sophia? What do you want out of life?”
“To pursue painting. To do charity work. I’d like to help with literacy. Also, try to do something to aid in getting more opportunities in school for children to take art and learn art appreciation. I want to open a gallery in New Mexico.”
“Marriage and family?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think about that. I’m accustomed to being on my own. I don’t ever want to be in the situation my mother was in—in love with my dad who never returned that love fully.”
“Your dad—you knew him?”
“What I told you last night wasn’t completely accurate. He was around off and on all my life,” she said, feeling a stab of pain and anger that had never left her. “My dad wouldn’t marry my mother. He practically ignored me except for financial support.”
“You said he was married?” Garrett said.
“Not by the time I was a teenager, but he didn’t want to get tied down again. Whenever he came to visit, it tore her up each time he left. She would cry for several days. He was the only man she ever loved,” Sophia stated bitterly. “He had a family—boys. He would go home to them. I couldn’t do anything to help her or stop her tears. When I was little, we both cried. I cried for her and she cried over him.”
“That’s tough,” Garrett said. “He ignored you?”
“In his way he provided for me. But looking back, I don’t think he knew how to deal with a little girl. He brought me all kinds of presents. I can remember reaching an age where I smashed some of them to bits. Mom just started giving them to charities. I didn’t want anything from him.”
“How old were you then?”
“Probably about eight or nine. He was polite to me and Mom saw to it that I was polite to him, but we weren’t together a whole lot. He never talked to me other than hello and goodbye. I rarely heard him say my name. When I was little I wondered whether he knew it. Often, I would be sent to my grandmother’s, which I loved, or out with my nanny when he was coming. Worked fine for me. I didn’t want to see him.”
“Yet your mother always loved him.”
“She did. And I don’t ever want to fall into that trap. The best way to avoid it is to keep relationships from becoming too deep.”
“Maybe you
shouldn’t base everything on the actions of your father.”
“That’s the legacy he left me—a deep fear of any relationship that isn’t totally committed.”
“Sorry, Sophia,” Garrett said with a somber note.
“How’d we get on this?” she asked, wanting to avoid thinking and talking about her blood father. She wanted him out of her life and thoughts as much as humanly possible.
“I’m interested in your life and finding out about you. Did he ever try to make it up to you?”
She thought of the inheritance Argus Delaney had left her. “He always showered Mom with money. Money was his solution for everything. He paid her medical bills, but by the time the end of her life came, we had enough money to manage on our own. No matter what happened, she always loved him. And I’ve always hated him,” she said.
“At least he was good to her,” Garrett said gently. “And generous.”
“I suppose I should be grateful, but I can’t be. He left money when he died—money I don’t want one penny of,” she said.
“He’s gone. He’ll never know whether you take his money or refuse it. Why not take it and enjoy it? It should be yours.”
She shook her head, feeling the familiar current of fury that she had lived with as long as she could remember.
“I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“You could do a lot with your inheritance.”
“I’ll never touch it,” she said, trying to shift her focus off the past and onto Garrett, thinking he would be fascinating to paint. His rugged features gave him a distinctive individualism and his unique gray eyes were unforgettable. Desire stirred and once again, she struggled to pay attention to their conversation.
He was studying her intently. “Sophia—” He paused, his eyes holding secrets. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“What? What were you going to say?”
He looked away. “I’ll check on the steaks.” She watched him stride to the cooker and she wondered for the second time this evening what it was he’d been about to say to her. Probably more advice about taking her inheritance, which she’d already heard enough of from Edgar.
“The steaks are ready.”
She stood, going with him to help get tossed salads, potatoes and water on the table. Soon they sat on the terrace to eat thick, juicy steaks.
“It’s a wonder you ever travel for pleasure. It’s gorgeous here and you have every convenience.”
“I like it here, but I like my other places, too.”
“I guess I can understand since I enjoy Santa Fe and Taos and even the cabin in the mountains as much as living in Houston.” She took a bite of her steak. “You’re a very good cook. The steak is delicious,” she said, surprised because he’d seemed to pay little attention to his cooking.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I should have watched you more closely. I invariably burn them.”
“You can watch me as closely as you want,” he replied with a twinkle.
“I opened the door for that one,” she said, smiling at him. “So how did you get into property management?” she asked, picking up her water glass to take a sip. A faint breeze caught his hair, blowing it gently. His hair was thick, and she thought about how it felt to run her fingers through it.
“My dad had the business,” he was saying. “He was into property management and finance. I was raised to follow in his footsteps and groomed to take over his businesses.”
“Businesses? There are others?”
“Yes, but I’m not directly involved in most of them. Hardly involved at all. They’re investments.”
“And that leaves you free to play around,” she said. “So what do you actually do?” she asked, flirting with him while trying to satisfy her curiosity about him and his life.
He smiled at her. “More than play around, although I hope to do that tonight. Dinner—get to know you—kiss you. That’s what I want to do in the next few hours,” he said, his voice deepening and making her tingle.
“I don’t really know you. Do you work, Garrett, or does the playboy lifestyle fit you?”
“I work, but not tonight, so we can get away from that subject. You aren’t eating, and I’ve lost my appetite for this steak. Let’s sit where it’s more comfortable to talk. We can take our drinks with us.”
She was leaving a half-eaten steak, yet she couldn’t resist his suggestion. Her interest in food had disappeared with Garrett’s flirting. He took her hand and she stood, going with him, her insides tingling the moment he touched her.
* * *
Garrett sat close on the couch. Her perfume was an exotic fragrance and he liked the faint scent. Her long hair was silky in his fingers as he twisted and toyed with the strands. She was stunning and he couldn’t get enough of her. And yet, he was racked with guilt.
When she had talked about Argus Delaney, Garrett felt awful that he wasn’t telling her the truth about who he was. Twice he had been on the verge, almost confessing and then pausing, waiting because it seemed the wisest course to follow. If he confessed the truth now, he was certain he would be finished. It was too soon, but knowing that didn’t ease his conscience.
“What about you and marriage?” she asked.
“I’m a workaholic, I suppose,” he said, stretching out his long legs. “I haven’t ever been deeply in love,” he admitted. “I don’t feel ready for marriage or getting tied down. Right now, my life is devoted to my work.”
“Pretty ordinary attitude when someone is tied up in work,” she stated.
As he gazed into her eyes, he wondered what it would be like to come home to her every night—to make love to her night and day. His thoughts surprised him. Sophia stirred him in a way no woman before her ever had. He had never had long-term thoughts or speculation about a woman before. Not even when he had been in a relationship. “I owe you an elegant dinner and dancing instead of sitting at my house and eating my cooking and helping me hang your painting,” he said, trying to get focused again on the present and stop imagining a future with her. That kind of thinking disturbed him. Because it was totally uncustomary.
“I’m enjoying the evening. You don’t owe me an elegant dinner,” she said. “This has been nice and you’re an interesting man, Garrett Cantrell.”
Garrett smiled at her. “You barely know me. And I lead an ordinary life.”
“Why do I doubt that statement? You’ve bought two of my paintings. That alone makes you interesting.”
“Next time we go to your house and I get to see where you paint,” he said.
“It’s a typical studio with brushes and paint smears. I don’t think it’s quite as interesting as your workshop.”
“If it’s yours, it’s interesting. Have you painted all your life?”
“Actually, yes. I loved drawing and painting. Of course, what little girl doesn’t?”
As she talked about painting when she was a child, his mind returned to the problem. He hated not telling her about the Delaneys, yet he had heard the bitterness, felt her anger smoldering. He wanted to be up front with her—his guilt was deepening by the minute.
He realized she was staring at him with a quizzical smile. “What?” he asked.
“You haven’t heard one word I’ve been saying, Garrett. Is there something you want to tell me? What are you thinking about?”
He focused on her lips before looking into her eyes again while desire consumed him. He didn’t want to admit the truth yet and the burden of guilt was becoming unbearable, but one way to avoid both was to stop her questions with kisses.
Three
Sophia gazed at Garrett, waiting for an answer to her question, wondering what he had on his mind. Was it his business that had him so lost in his own thoughts?
Was it her?
“Garrett, what is it?” she asked, looking into his eyes.
Lust was blatant, causing her pulse to race. Perhaps it was her.
He leaned close, slipping his arm aro
und her waist to pull her to him, ending her questions as his mouth covered hers. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She inhaled, winding her arms around his neck while she kissed him in return. When he pulled her onto his lap, she was barely aware of moving.
He wound his fingers in her hair and she clung to him. Her body tingled, an aching need beginning. She moaned softly as he ran his hand down her back, over the curve of her hip to her thighs. He pushed the hem of her skirt higher to touch her bare skin. Hot, urgent longing consumed her. Her fingers worked free the remaining buttons of his shirt and she pushed it away to touch his sculpted chest. She ran her fingers lower over his muscled stomach. The touch caused the fires within her to blaze. She gasped over caressing him, realizing she had to stop or she would be lost in lovemaking, complicating her life in a manner she had always intended to avoid. She had never slept with a man and she didn’t intend to take that step now.
She caught his wrist and raised her head. “This is crazy, Garrett. I barely know you. We’re going too fast.”
“We’re getting to know each other, and I’d say the chemistry is pretty hot.” As he talked, he ran both hands through her hair on either side of her face. “You’re beautiful. You take my breath away. Sophia, I want to make love to you,” he whispered hoarsely.
Her heart thudded but she forced herself to slide off his lap. “Let’s take a breather and slow things down,” she said, standing to face him.
He stood, his desire obvious. His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and pushed open to reveal his broad, muscled, masculine chest. Her mouth was dry and she had to fight the urge to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him again.
“I haven’t felt this way about anyone before,” he said, sounding surprised, frowning slightly as if he weren’t happy about it.
“Please sit, Sophia. We’ll just talk,” he said.
She sat, turning so she could face him. The moment he was seated, he wrapped his fingers in her hair. “We can sit and talk, but I can’t keep from touching you.”
“Garrett, I meant it when I said I’m not into affairs. I watched my mother shed a million tears over my father. I won’t put myself in that position.”
