“That is so lovely.” Lana picked up a T-shirt. The tags were still attached. There was a mix of new clothes and vintage items—the less valuable pieces in Evangeline’s closet, perhaps.
“She’s probably scared of what I’ll pick out for you next. Plus, she wants her Chanel back. And the guest room is a major hint.”
Without meaning to, Lana met his gaze. She could swear she saw intent in it. Or was that her own wishful thinking?
“So, this list…” she said.
“Want to spread it out on the kitchen counter? I’ll cook us something while we look at it. It’s a little early for dinner, but I amhungry.”
“Me too.” Maybe the hunger she thought she felt for him wasactualhunger. She watched as he wandered out to the pool, pulling an arm across his body in a stretch, and then the other. No, it wasn’t. “Mind if I have a shower? It’d be an insult to these clothes to put my dirty body into them.”
She hadn’t meant the double entendre, but he grinned, and she felt herself heating from the inside out. Did she seriously think she could be satisfied with just being friends?
“Mi cabaña, su cabaña.”
By the time she emerged in a T-shirt and jeans, her hair wet, Griffin was sliding a dish into the oven. Oh, how domestic. Evangeline had underestimated her bra size, so her chest was even tighter than it might be from the sight of his denim-clad ass alone. The sunlight was softening over the city, a dusky glow settling in behind the hills. Griffin had selectively opened a few glass sliders to channel the breeze. He showered too, andemerged in a khaki T-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. He was barefoot, and there was something so damn sexy in that. Holy crap—she was getting turned on by his feet now?
She pulled her bar stool closer to the counter and forced her gaze back on the list spread out in front of her. “None of these names means anything to me.”
“Yeah, I had a good look too. I know a few, but…” He strolled into the kitchen on his sexy feet and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Wait, do you even want wine, under the circumstances? Reflex action.”
Reflex action because that’s how things usually unfolded when he brought a woman home?
“I would love a glass of wine. It’s not like we’re about to dash out and solve the mystery of my missing sister.” He poured her a glass, and she sipped. It was mellow and syrupy. “Even I can tell this is lovely, and I deliberately keep my wine tastes budget.”
“I no longer have many vices, not since I experimented with pretty much all of them at once. But I do like a good wine. Just a glass or two, at home. Usually alone, because I’m just that cool.”
“You don’t drink when you’re out? Not a wine with dinner at a restaurant?”
He shook his head. “It’s too easy for a photographer to find an unfortunate angle that makes it look like I’m off my face, and next minute, there’s another photo of the nepo baby with the drinking problem. Even now, production companies try to add clauses to my contracts banning me from drinking.”
“I don’t know a lot about your public persona, but I’m getting a clear picture that it’s very different from this you.” She gestured. “Even the way you’re standing.”
He looked down. “How am I standing?”
“You’re so at ease, and … fluid, if that’s not a weird word to use. When you’re in public, you’re all straight spine and neutralexpression. But then in your movies, you’re completely different again.”
“I’m a professional chameleon. Different things to different people. Gotta say though, I like the version of me that I am to you.”
“So do I.” Somehow, her words came out sultry. An inadvertent escalation.
Griffin studied her curiously, then sauntered around to her side of the counter and leaned back against it, his body inches from hers. “Lana, I don’t know if you realize how seductive it feels to be with someone who sees into me the way you do.”
She swallowed, transfixed by his bright eyes. “Seductive?” she echoed. It seemed like an escalation onhispart, but a deliberate one.
His mouth drifted into a smile. “You like that word?”
“It’s a beautiful word.”
“Where would you shelve it in the library, if it were a book?”
She gulped in a breath and audibly released it. “Uh, let’s see.” She shut her eyes, because no way could she concentrate on the Dewey decimal system under that gaze. He thoughtshesaw intohim? He was practically giving her an MRI. “The six-hundreds for technology.” She heard and sensed him moving closer, and her body went on delicious alert. “The tens for medicine and health.” He skimmed past her back. “Uh, three, for personal health and safety.” He lifted her hair from her nape. “Then, point six.” A soft touch on the side of her neck, like he was picking up where he left off earlier—except this time with his lips. “Point six,” she repeated shakily. “Birth control, reproductive technology, sexual hygiene, sexual techniques.” His hands slipped around her waist, and she leaned back into his warm, solid body, elongating her neck.
“Is that it?” His voice murmured over her skin, her veins sucking up the vibration and spreading it around her body.
She shook her head, letting out a desperate pant. “There’s a … a … nine. Point six nine. Sexual techniques.”
He spun the bar stool so she faced him and she opened her eyes. His gaze was darker now, his cheekbones cut, his smooth lips a deep pink. This was the Griffin Hart who’d dominated her fantasies in the past week—the Griffin Hart she’d studied on screen and freeze-framed.
