She’s right on time,he thought as he heard a sharp rap on the front door.
Chantel Rosenberg was punctual. He liked that about her.
Actually, he was starting to obsess about everything related to the intensely serious, gray-eyed woman he’d run into only days earlier.
He made his way down the large staircase and over to the door.
When he opened it, his breath was once again taken away by her. Her raven hair had been left out today, fluttering around her shoulders. With legs displayed in black shorts, she was wearing a red blouse with short sleeves that cupped her upper arms, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. He wasstruck with the sudden urge to reach out and run his finger across her naked collarbone. Her skin was incandescent.
“Right on time,” he said, dismissing his need to touch her.
“Well, you did tell me ten a.m. Uncle Beau made sure I arrived on time.”
He smiled, moving aside. When she remained where she was standing, he berated himself silently. There were so many things he did unconsciously without realizing that she was not able to see him or understand his meaning. Luckily, this also meant that when he made these mistakes, he could quietly fix them.
“Will you come inside?” he asked, waiting as she moved the cane out in front of her.
Once she was happy, knowing the path was clear, she made her way to move by him. When she was directly beside him, she stopped and turned.
He didn’t know why, but he found himself holding his breath.
Those compelling eyes locked on to his face, and he wondered if she could see anything at all. He wanted desperately to ask her, but he had no idea if that was considered rude. So he stood there, frozen.
She took in a deep breath and then let it out gently. “I like the way you smell.”
He grinned at her strange, soft confession as she took another deep breath. He leaned in, so his mouth was by her ear. “I like the way you look.” He blew a hot breath gently against her. “And the way you smell.”
She turned her head so they were nose to nose. She breathed out, and he could taste her on his lips and tongue.
“You’re going to destroy me,” he admitted with a sigh.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Don’t I?” he responded, watching her pulse beat at the base of her throat.
She was nervous but excited, and he was ensnared.
Taking a small step back, she continued past him. He swallowed and closed his eyes as she stopped in the center of the foyer. He shut the door and carefully moved around, standing beside her.
She turned in his direction. “How old are you?”
Her hearing seemed to be extra sensitive. No matter where he was in the room, she moved in that direction, appearing to somehow sense him.
“Does it matter?” he asked, knowing that he wasn’t really being fair.
He couldseeher, so he knew her approximate age. She, on the other hand, had no idea what he looked like or how old he might be. He got the impression that she liked it when he treated her as he would anyone else, so that was exactly what he planned to do.
“Well, no, I guess it doesn’t.” She paused. “Actually, yes. Yes, it does matter.”
He stepped closer to her. Reaching out, he moved to touch the ends of her hair, but thought better of it, not wanting to startle her. “May I touch you?”
He watched closely as a smile tugged at her lips.
“You may…ifyou tell me how old you are.”
Hesitantly, he ran the pads of his fingers across her naked collarbone. She took a swift breath.
“How old are you?” she asked again.
