“Hello, ma’am. I’m Louis, Mr. Haverill’s driver. I’m here to collect you.”
Bethany peered around him, but there was no one else outside. “Hank’s not here?”
The man smiled with a shake of his head. “No, he asked me to take you to your destination.”
“And where is that?”
“I believe he preferred it to be a surprise.”
“I’m not fond of surprises.” She shot the driver a cool look.
Louis did not hesitate.Used to Hank’s shenanigans, most likely.
“Understandable, ma’am. Mr. Haverill did say you might object to not having an address. Here it is.”
He handed a piece of paper to her.
“Edgewater Drive,” Bethany read.
Travis peered over her shoulder. “Looks like a private residence.”
“That it is, sir.”
“He must have rented a house,” Bethany said. “He didn’t mention that.”
“I believe he rented it today. As you might imagine, there is no guarantee of privacy in a public restaurant, so Hank thought dinner at home would be best.” Louis smiled and gestured toward the limo. “Are you ready, ma’am? I have instructions to get you there by seven.”
Bethany nodded. “Call me Bethany, please.” She turned to Travis with a smile she hoped looked reassuring and handed him the slip of paper. “Pick me up by midnight, unless you hear from me sooner... Cinderella and all that.”
“I’ll be there.” Travis’s gray-green eyes—so much like their dad’s—darkened with concern.
She gave him a swift hug. “Love you. I’ll be fine.”
Louis opened the door to the limo and waited for her to enter before shutting it. Bethany settled inside, air bubblesflitting around her stomach. She plastered on a smile to make sure Travis knew she was okay.
And then they were pulling out of the drive, and she was waving goodbye, and Bethany was certain she had just strapped herself into a roller coaster, and the first hill would be a doozie.
Hank liftedthe lid on the shiny copper frying pan and took a whiff. The smell of carrots and chicken cooking in soy sauce mixed with garlic and sweet and sour hit his nostrils in a pungent burst. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. Other than the donut this morning, he had eaten little.
He picked up a big wooden spoon and stirred the concoction with one hand, then turned the burner off under a pot of rice with the other. He glanced at the time on the microwave at the same moment he heard the car in the drive.
Hank wiped his hands on a dish towel and went to open the door. A flicker of excitement darted through his veins. When was the last time he’d had this feeling of anticipation? He searched his memories, but nothing came to him.
He checked his appearance in the giant hall mirror to make sure nothing was stuck in his teeth. His hair was a bit messy, but his light blue shirt and white shorts weren’t stained.
He grabbed the door handle. Crap, he was losing it. Why the heck did the thought of Bethany spying a bit of carrot in his mouth or dirty clothes cause his heart to beat out of his chest?
He shook his head at his foolishness and turned thehandle. He’d entertained plenty of women before. This shouldn’t be any different.But it is.
Hank plastered on his best Apollo smile and opened the door. There she stood, stunning in a purple number that contrasted dramatically with her dark curly hair. The evening sun cast a golden shadow across her face, and that, in combination with the dress, gave her a magical air. Her large eyes, more gray than green at the moment, looked at him as if she’d never seen him before.
He stood a little taller in his loafers. His Apollo smile faded, and his heart thumped fast, reminding him of the first time he’d stood in front of a camera. Beads of moisture formed on his forehead. The words of welcome on the tip of his tongue disappeared in a mountain of mush.
“Umm, can I come in?”
The scent of lemons and sugar surrounding her stunned his senses. The humidity this close to the lake caused her hair to look curlier than it did when he’d seen her at the restaurant. A strand of it blew across her cheek, and without thinking, he reached out to brush it from her eyes. She flinched as if he had struck her, and her cheeks turned pink.
He dropped his hand. “Yeah, sorry. I was. . .uh. . .”Pull yourself together, man.“In the kitchen.”
