Not that Penelope was the sort to seek empty promises or try to change him.Was that what stung?That there was no ambiguity?
She had clearly been open to full physical intimacy.The reason was clearly because he was a rake, therefore loving and leaving was “what he did.”And he clearly should have taken her up on the offer because great Zeus, he could not concentrate on blowing glass into a mold.
What had he been hoping for?Thatshewould fall in love withhim?He snorted.That would also be a first.
He slumped forward and rubbed his temples with one hand.She expected things from him.All the wrong things.
Or perhaps logical things, and he was the one who had changed.He didn’t want his old life anymore.He wanted something better.
He wantedher.
Nicholas broke the blowpipe from the clay.There he went again.He had planned to craft a turtle.Or a pheasant.Anything would do, as long as it had nothing to do with Penelope.
Of course, that was not what happened.Even as he’d fashioned this mold, he’d known its glass figurine wasn’t for him, but for her.
It would get locked in his cupboard with all the others just the same.
He shoved the clay mold aside and began to pace the workshop.He despised not knowing what to do.Penelope wanted a liaison with a rake.Nicholas happened to be a rake.An obvious solution presented itself.
Except he didn’twantto be a rake.Had unconsciously stopped the same day he met her.Now that they’d spent so much time together, he had thought she’d seen something more in him than a caricature.
He had been wrong.
Wanting a true connection, dreaming of “love” like an utter lunatic, those things weren’t for him.He’d learned long ago not to reach for what he wasn’t meant to have.
He had to go back to what he knew.Penelope wanted one night with a rake?He would give it to her.It would have to be enough for both of them.
After cleaning up the workshop and himself, Nicholas made his way straight to Penelope.
“One night?”he demanded.
His heart pounded.For the first time, he had arrived empty-handed.Today he had nothing to give but himself.
She peered up at him.“What?”
“One night?”he repeated, his voice cracking.“That’s what you want?”
A frown marred her brow.“Isn’t it whatyouwant?”
“Yes or no.”He jerked a hand through his hair in nervousness.“We can be intimate, or we can leave things as they are.I need to know before I come inside.”
She bit her lip.“You’ll come inside either way?”
There was his answer.He gave a crooked smile.“I’m satisfied with a simple plate of biscuits.”
“I’m not.”Her cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t look away.“I want it all.”
Even better.He swung her into the house, kicked the door shut behind them, and covered her mouth with his.
Her lips were warm, and familiar, and welcoming.Returning to her arms was like coming home.A cozy fire, protected from all the snow.He could not help but deepen the kiss.
She smelled heavenly, and she tasted like… cinnamon sugar?His pulse jumped.He fervently hoped the kitchen alarm wasn’t about to sound.
He lifted his mouth from hers.“Are you baking?”
“I was.”Her lips curved as she gestured behind him.“I set your biscuits out by the chimney.Do you want to start with a snack?”
“I do not.”Yet he made no attempt to drag her to the closest horizontal surface.He needed to make certain they both understood what they were agreeing to.“I’m here on holiday.”
