The Charmer. Kate Hoffmann
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In the twelve years he’d been actively pursing women, Alex had honed his techniques. He’d found that most women were turned off by a man who wanted jump into bed after just a few hours together. Though he usually felt the urge, he’d learned to control his desires. He never slept with a woman on the first date. Or the second. But by the third, there were no rules left to follow.
Now he was finding it difficult putting thoughts of seduction out of his head. He wasn’t sure he was reading the signs correctly. Though he found Tenley incredibly sexy, he wasn’t sure they were moving in that direction. One moment she seemed interested and the next, she acted as though she couldn’t care less.
Though the conversation between them was easy, it wasn’t terribly informative. He’d learned that Tenley had lived in Door County her entire life and that the cabin had belonged to her grandparents. Her father was an artist and her mother, a poet. Though she didn’t say for certain, he gleaned from her comments that they were divorced. When he asked where they lived, she’d quickly changed the subject.
She kept the conversation firmly focused on him, asking about his business, about his life in Chicago, about his childhood. She seemed particularly interested in the market for graphic novels and his interest in publishing them.
“My grandfather started the company in 1962,” Alex explained. “He used to do technical manuals, then started a line of how-to books, right about the time everyone was getting into home improvement. He retired and my father expanded our list to include other how-to titles. How to Groom a Poodle, How to Make a Soufflé, How to Play the Ukulele. Real page-turners.”
“And then you came along with an idea for graphic novels.”
“I’ve read comic books since I was a kid. But they’re not just comic books anymore. They’re an incredible mix of graphic art and story. They’ve turned some of the best ones into movies, so they’re starting to move into mainstream culture.”
“And this book by T. J. Marshall? Why do you like it?”
“It’s…tragic. There’s this heroine who, after a brush with death, discovers she can bring people back to life. But she’s forced to choose between those she can save and those not worthy. The power only works for a short time before it’s gone again. And there’s this governmental agency that’s after her. They want to use her powers for evil.”
“And you liked her—I mean, his art?”
“Yeah,” Alex replied. “The drawings have an energy about them, a rawness that matches the dark emotion in the story. I find it pretty amazing that someone could be such a great writer and an incredible artist, too.”
“So you just want to publish it? Just like that?”
Alex shook his head. “No. There are some things that need to be addressed. The story needs to be expanded. There’s a subplot that has to be fleshed out. I’ve got minor questions about the character, some inconsistencies in the backstory. And we’d want to explore a story arc for a sequel or two, maybe make it a trilogy.”
She frowned. “A trilogy?”
“Yeah. We’d want to publish more than one novel. The real success in publishing is not in buying a book, but in building a career.”
“So it pays a lot of money?”
“Not a lot. It would depend on how the books sold. But we have a great marketing department. I think they’d do really well. Well enough to provide a comfortable living for the artist.”
Tenley quickly stood and gathered up the remains of their dinner. He got to his feet and helped her, following her into the kitchen with the empty bottle of wine. Though he hadn’t quite figured out her mercurial mood changes, he was finding them less troublesome. She just moved more quickly from one thing to the next than the ordinary person, as if she became bored or distracted easily.
“Can I help you with the dishes?” he asked, standing beside her at the sink.
“Sure,” she murmured.
He reached across her for the soap, his hand brushing hers. The contact was startling in its effect on his body. A current raced up his arm, jolting him like an electric shock. Intrigued, he reached down and took her hand in his, smoothing his fingers over her palm.
“You have beautiful hands,” he said, examining her fingers. It was as if he knew these hands, knew exactly how they’d feel on his face, on his body. Her nails were painted a dark purple and she wore several rings on her fingers and thumb.
Alex slowly pulled them off, setting them down on the edge of the sink. It was like undressing her in a way, discovering the woman beneath all the accoutrements. He drew her hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her wrist.
Her gaze fixed on his face, her eyes wide, filled with indecision. Alex held his breath, waiting for a reaction. He kissed a fingertip, then drew it across his lower lip. The gesture had the desired effect. She leaned into him and a moment later, their mouths met.
Unlike the experiment that was their first kiss, this was slow and delicious. She tasted sweet, like the wine they’d drunk. He pulled her close, smoothing his hands over her back until her body was pressed against his. Kissing her left him breathless, his heart slamming in his chest.
He ran his hands over her arms, then grasped her wrists and wrapped them around his neck. A tiny sigh slipped from her throat and she softened in his embrace, as if the kiss were affecting her as much as it was him.
Alex had made the same move with any number of women, but it had never had this kind of effect on him. What was usually carefully controlled need was now raw and urgent. He wanted to possess her, to get inside her soul and find out who this woman was. She was sweet and complicated and vulnerable and tough. And everything about her drew him in and made him want more.
Maybe that was it. He’d learned well how to read women, to play on their desires and to make them want him. But Tenley was a challenge. She didn’t react to his charm in the usual ways. Yet that wasn’t all he found so intriguing. She lived all alone in the woods, with a bunch of animals. Where was her family? Where were the people who cared about her? And how did a woman as beautiful as Tenley not have a boyfriend or a husband to take care of her?
He sensed there was something not right here, something he couldn’t explain. Alex felt an overwhelming need to reveal those parts of her that she was trying so hard to hide. She’d rescued him out on the road, but now he suspected that she was the one who needed saving.
The diversion was short-lived. The phone rang and, startled by the sound, Tenley stepped back. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips damp. “I—I should get that.”
Alex nodded as she slipped from his embrace. She hurried to the phone and picked it up, watching him from beneath dark lashes. He leaned back against the edge of the counter and waited, certain they’d begin again just as soon as the call was over. But when she hung up, she maintained her distance.
“Jesse towed your car into town,” she said.
“Good.”
“But not before the snowplow hit it. He says it’s not real bad. It’ll need a new back bumper and a side panel. And a taillight. And a few more things.”
Alex groaned. “Can I still drive it?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Great,” he muttered. “How the hell am I going to get around?”
“I guess I’ll have to drive you,” Tenley said. “You’re not going to be going anywhere tonight anyway, so it’s not worth worrying about. Jesse says the wind is just blowing the roads closed right after they plow them.” She crossed back to him. “I—I should go out and check on the horses.”
“I’ll come with you,” Alex suggested.
“It’s late. You’re probably tired. You can have the guest room. It’s at the end