He recognized this. He’d experienced something similar after losing his mom, and the only reason he hadn’t gone off the deep end was the conviction that she’d be devastated if he let the darkness take him.
And he refused to let Jannie go down that hole.
His first priority was to get her out of here, he decided, because although her home was large, luxurious, and beautiful, he knew well that it was full of ghosts, and he’d be damned if he’d let her keep being haunted.
He sensed her presence behind him before she said a word. Turning, he watched her approach, carrying two large cushions and a long-necked green bottle.
Immediately, he surged to his feet. “Let me help you.”
Before he could, however, she released the cushions, and they landed at his feet.
He smiled. “We’re sitting on these?”
“Yup.”
Ah.
The only patio seating was a double chaise lounge. She evidently didn’t want the closeness. He did his best to hide his disappointment.
She reached into her back pocket and produced a small white remote. One push of a button, and he heard a grinding noise. Five screens beganto descend simultaneously, enclosing the patio.
“I do have a service that sprays for bugs.” She set down the wine bottle with aclink, then headed back to the summer kitchen and returned with two plastic glasses. “But the mosquitoes still seem to find me. And when they do, it’s bad.”
“Because you taste so sweet,” he said without thinking.
He didn’t miss her widening eyes or the way her gaze flicked to his mouth, and it took everything he had to keep from hauling her against him and reenacting what he’d done to that mouth of hers in that Las Vegas ballroom.
But that would be inappropriate. He sensed he needed to handle her with the utmost patience and care, and that was exactly what he would do.
She spread a paper tablecloth in front of the firepit and kicked the cushions a good couple of feet apart.
He eyed them, saying nothing, and went to retrieve the s’mores ingredients. He found the extra-long chopsticks and tipped each with a marshmallow, passing one to Jannie as she settled cross-legged on the thick, round cushion.
“Thank you.” She didn’t look at him.
They extended the sticks, watching the flames dance and inhaling the sweet vanilla fragrance as the marshmallows turned color.
The orange glow of the crackling fire made her already angelic face look otherworldly beautiful. He cast her a glance, hesitant to speak, not wanting to disrupt the companionable silence.
For now, just being near her was enough. She still made him feel something no other woman had, even after so many years, and he was determined to see where this might lead. Whatever “this” was. Because he didn’t understand it. All he knew was he had an overwhelming need to cherish and protect her, and he hoped she’d eventually come around and let him.
Wordlessly, he snapped a graham cracker in half, added a chocolate square, and passed it to her, smiling slightly as she slid in the gooey, perfectly browned marshmallow, assembling the s’more with precision.
She’d always been meticulous. A perfectionist. His mind wandered to what she’d be like between the sheets if he could get her to let go and lethim take control, and he felt himself begin to stir to life as he watched her lick a bit of melted marshmallow off the edge of the sweet sandwich. The memory of that tongue tangling with his made him swiftly grow to full mast.
“This is nice,” she softly said.
“Mm-hmm.”
He turned his marshmallow, which had charred slightly. He felt her presence beside him so acutely, and the breeze carried her scent to his nostrils every time it stirred. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing her in.
“It’s burning,” she said.
So am I.
“I like it slightly blackened.” A moment later, he made his own sandwich, took a big bite, and motioned with his chin toward the bottle. “Do we need a corkscrew?”
She shook her head. “Twist top.”
