Reese tapped the remote, lowering the door, then rested a hand on Cherie’s shoulder. “Don’t move. I’ll help you out.”
He got out and came around to assist her down, smiling when he noticed she clutched the cake carrier close to her chest. He was curious to see what was in the container. Reaching behind the seats, he grasped the handles to her overnight bag and tote.
Cherie pointed to the motorcycle in a corner of the garage. “Do you ride?”
“Yes.” He’d bought the Yamaha as a gift for himself for his forty-second birthday. “But only in the warmer weather. Have you ever been on a bike?”
“No-o-o.”
Reese laughed when registering Cherie’s trepidation. “Don’t worry, Cherie. I’ll get you a helmet and promise not to go too fast.” She gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “I always keep my promises.”
“Let debate this when the weather gets warmer.”
Reese winked at her, thinking at least she hadn’t said no. “Let’s go inside, where it’s warm,” he said, leading the way up the stairs and into the mudroom, where he left his cap and poncho on a wall hook and his boots on a mat. Then he held the cake container while Cherie took off her outer garments. He didn’t know what to expect she would be wearing under her slicker and coat, but it wasn’t the black ribbed turtleneck sweater and black stretchy pants that hugged every curve of her petite body. The sweater outlined the roundness of her breasts, which were fuller than he’d expected, but then he had to remind himself that the other times he’d seen or been with her she’d worn baggy sweaters or sweatshirts.
Reese knew he had to be very careful now that he’d invited Cherie to sleep under his roof. What he did not want to do was take advantage of her. On the other hand, he didn’t want their relationship to become so one-sided that he was the only one doing the pursuing. If possible, he wanted Cherie to want him as much as he wanted her.
From the moment he’d walked into the Seaside Café to pick up a takeout order for his colleagues and seen Cherie, Reese had asked himself what there was about her that had him so enthralled with her mere presence. And he knew it couldn’t just have been her face. Yes, she was beautiful, but he’d lost count of the number of beautiful women he’d seen during his lifetime. While he didn’t like a particular type when it came to a woman, there was something about the way Cherie looked at him and then demurely lowered her eyes that he’d found so seductive that he’d been unable to draw a normal breath.
Seductress. She’d managed to seduce him without uttering a word, and he wondered if she’d practiced the mannerism or did it unconsciously. It no longer mattered to Reese if the gesture was feigned or deliberate because he’d found himself captivated by a woman who appeared to be as carefree as she was confident. However, there was something about her that made him believe that she was an old soul, that she’d experienced a lot more than some women her age.
Leaning against the wall, Cherie bent slightly to unlace her boots, leaving them on the mat next to his. Reese stared at her small, bare feet with bright red polish on the toes. “You can’t walk around barefoot.”
She pointed to the bag he’d slung over his shoulder. “I have a couple of pairs of shoes and socks in my overnight bag.”
Reese set down the cake carrier and slipped the bag’s straps off his shoulder. “Why don’t you look in there and get some shoes before we go inside. The mudroom is called that for a reason.”
No matter how often he swept the area, there was always a light layer of dust on the cement floor. There had been a time when his grandmother had the washer and dryer installed in the space, but Reese decided, once he’d become a civilian, to purchase more updated, energy-saving models and had them installed in a space off the kitchen. He pushed his sock-covered feet into a pair of worn moccasins, and after Cherie had slipped her feet into a pair of ballet-type flats, Reese led her into the kitchen.
Cherie closed her eyes as she drew in a deep breath. “Something smells delicious.”
“That’s the rosemary and garlic chicken you smell.”
Her smile was dazzling. “Ohmygod. I can’t believe I’ve hooked up with a gourmet cook.” She noticed Reese frowning. “What’s the matter?”
He set her bag and tote on stools at the cooking island. “I really don’t like the implication that we’re hooking up.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Would you prefer if I’d said courting?”
A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “That sounds a little old-fashioned, but it’s better than hooking up.”
Suddenly, Cherie recalled Kayana mentioning that Reese had been raised by his grandparents after the death of his mother, so she assumed he’d adopted some of the behaviors and values that were standard in his grandparents’ generation. And spending twenty years in the military had prepared him well for a second career in law enforcement. His entire adult life had been shaped by discipline and regimentation, and Cherie wondered if he would get along with Derrick Johnson and Graeme Ogden if she invited him to join the others for Super Bowl Sunday.
“Maybe I should’ve said I’m going to enjoy my boyfriend cooking for me.”
He winked at her. “That sounds a lot better. Come with me, and I’ll show you where you can put your things.”
Cherie picked up her tote, while Reese took the quilted bag. “Do you have time to give me a tour of your beautiful home before we eat?”
When Reese had turned into the driveway of the large two-story, farm-style house with a wide front porch, she was surprised to find it was only one of two structures standing on an open expanse of land.
Reese glanced over his shoulder at her as he led the way up the carpeted mahogany staircase with carved spindles. “There will be plenty of time for that after we eat. It’s not as if we’re going anywhere tonight.”
Cherie knew he was right. She was stuck at his home until the ice storm was over, and there was no guarantee that, once it was, she would be able to return home. Reese electing to come and get her solved the dilemma of not freezing if or when the power went out because she didn’t have a generator. She shivered when recalling the times when the boiler in the building where she’d grown up would need to be repaired and they would have to heat water on the stove to fill up the bathtub to take a bath. When many of the tenants had had enough of not getting the services outlined in their leases, they’d formed a tenants association and conducted a series of rent strikes.
Once the building’s owner realized he was losing money and that the tenants had hired a lawyer to represent them in court, he instituted major capital improvements that included installing a new heating and cooling system. Although the services in the buildings had improved their quality of life, her old neighborhood hadn’t kept step with the upgrades; crime had continued to escalate unabated. Cherie knew most of the residents were aware of who was dealing drugs, but were reluctant to talk to law enforcement because they feared reprisals from various street gangs.
“This will be your bedroom.”
