A Lady's Luck. Ken Casper
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and shivered a little.
“You’re cold.” As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he wrapped an arm across her shoulders.
The tremor that flowed through her now had nothing to do with the room’s chill but everything to do with the heat his touch generated. His body was solid, his contact firm and reassuring, and she wanted to burrow into it.
She tried to tell herself she was reacting like an adolescent. In truth, his embrace reinforced her awareness of the two years she’d spent alone, untouched, a woman apart.
“Let me light the fire,” he said, “then I’ll pour us a glass of something.”
She wanted to cry out “no,” when he released her. Instead she stood where she was and watched him bend down and reach for the propane starter to ignite the gas log.
He stood up, smiling at her, then walked over to the drinks table in the corner. “Let’s see. Scotch, of course. Brandy. Cream sherry. There’s red wine. What can I get you?”
Another hug, please, she wanted to say. “Sherry, I think.”
“Sherry, it is. I’ll have Scotch. I’m a Bourbon man at home.”
“Kentucky is famous for its Bourbon whisky, isn’t it?”
“We make the best. I’ve heard Tennessee produces some passable stuff, too, but I’m partial to the home spirits.”
“Naturally.”
He caught the humor in her voice, looked over and grinned.
“I have to thank you for a wonderful day,” he said, pouring a couple of ounces of sherry into a wineglass.
“Your girls are enchanting.” What she really felt like saying was that she didn’t want the day to end. “You must be very proud of them.”
“I am.” He decanted even less whisky into a short tumbler for himself. “You have to understand, though, they’ve been on their best behavior the last couple of days, for which I’m enormously grateful. But they can also be holy terrors, I assure you.”
She smiled as he handed her the sweet wine.
“Thanks for inspiring them,” he said.
“It’s I who should be thanking you for today,” she replied, standing in front of the fire. “You’ve given me a special gift, sharing your family and allowing me to see the world ’round me with fresh eyes. I shan’t forget that.”
He loved listening to her speak, the crisp accent that was so clear and precise, the unaccustomed words. Meeting her eyes, he held up his glass. “To special gifts.”
She raised hers, never breaking eye contact. The intimacy of the moment lingered even after they’d sipped their drinks.
Taking her hand, he led her over to the love seat in front of the fireplace. Yellow and blue flames licked around the simulated logs. The fire wasn’t giving off much heat yet, but that wasn’t important. There was already enough between them.
“You must be tired,” she said softly. “This has been a long day for you, too.”
“All I feel right now is contentment. It’s been a wonderful two days,” he murmured. “I met you.”
She looked up at him then, her eyes searching his. He brought his lips down to hers, and suddenly the heat of the fireplace was nothing compared to the heat between them.
It was all happening so fast, she thought, yet not quickly enough. She closed her eyes, let her senses float. A furor of needs and desires raged inside her. Was it this man who was setting her free? Or would any man touching her have provoked the same response?
She sensed, too, the desperation in the kiss. Were they no more than two lonely people starved for contact?
They broke off. He didn’t look at her but bowed his head. Had she disappointed him? Did he feel regret?
Another long moment elapsed before she was aware of a sound coming from the other room, a muffled sob.
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