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.”“I make a wonderful clam linguine.” Emily stepped back away from Mitch, deliberately putting some distance between them.“Would you be insulted if I offer to pay for the groceries?”Mitch glared at her, realizing she suspected he had just enough money in his wallet to cover the cost of their dinner, which would mean he’d be eating bologna sandwiches the rest of the week.Paying rent for the cottage next to Emily took a hefty chunk out of his paycheck.“Call me old-fashioned, pretty lady, but on a first date, I consider it my privilege to pay for dinner.I’ll buy the fixings and clean up afterward if you’ll prepare our feast.I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook.”“I’d say that’s a fair deal.”Mitch couldn’t keep himself from inspecting the elegantly slender woman standing so close to him.Emily had pulled her dark hair away from her face and secured it with a pale-yellow ribbon that perfectly matched her long-sleeved yellow blouse and skirt.The soft fabric clung to her curves in a flattering yet seductive way.The golden locket lay atop the middle of her chest, dipping into the hollow between her breasts.Emily eyed him suspiciously, then took a tentative step toward him.“You make me wonder what you’re thinking when you look at me that way.”“What way?” Mitch slipped his arm around her waist, and smiled when she didn’t try to pull away from him.“Like you’re wondering.well, you know.about—”“You’re a very suspicious woman, Emily.I agreed to be your friend.If you think I have an ulterior motive for asking you for a date, why did you say yes?”“Because I’m very attracted to you.” The warm flush of embarrassment crept into her cheeks.He knew Emily’s honesty shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.His past experiences had left him skeptical about the entire female sex.Loni’s betrayal had taught him not only that he shouldn’t trust a woman’s pledge of undying love and devotion, but that he didn’t dare trust his own emotions.Mitch couldn’t help wondering if he had the guts to be as honest with Emily.“I’m very attracted to you, too.” He guided her toward the market.“You’re different from any woman I’ve ever known.”They entered the seafood market, the odor of the ocean’s bounty ripe in the air.“I’m quite old-fashioned, aren’t I?” Emily asked.“I suppose it comes from having been raised by my grandmother.”“You’re an old-fashioned lady who’s attracted to me, yet wants only friendship,” he whispered into her ear.“I’m a guy down on his luck who hasn’t wanted anything from a woman but a good time in a long while.”Feeling the touch of his hand on her back in every nerve ending of her body, Emily swallowed.Her cheeks flared crimson.“They say that opposites attract.”“In our case that old idiom seems true.” Mitch took a deep breath, aware that the conversation was getting a bit too heavy.At this rate, he’d be telling her that he wanted to make love to her tonight.“Come on, let’s get our clams and head for home.”The last fading rays of sunlight spread a soft riot of color across the horizon just as they turned off Scenic 98 and drove up Emily’s long, tree-lined driveway.Mitch parked his Harley, helped Emily off, removed their helmets and carried the groceries inside through the back door.He had wondered what the interior of her house looked like.Now he knew.The inside of Emily’s beachfront cottage was every bit as classy, as elegant, as feminine as the woman herself.Emily lifted the items from the small sacks Mitch had set on the kitchen counter.“I can handle things from here if you want to run home and shower.”“Yeah, thanks.I won’t be long.” He reached out and touched her face, running his knuckles across her cheek, brushing his fingertips under her chin.The corners of her mouth quivered.Her lips parted on a sigh.She simply couldn’t believe the heady effect the mere touch of his hand against her face had on her.“Take your time, Mitch.I need to freshen up, too.”Circling the back of her neck with his big hand, he pulled her gently toward him, burying his face in the soft dark tendrils of hair that the wind had freed from their confinement.“Don’t freshen up too much.” He breathed in her sweetness.“You smell like the wind and the sea and woman.”Emily’s heart fluttered inside her chest like a trapped bird trying to escape.His lips grazed her ear.She sucked in her breath.“I’ll be back.” Mitch stepped away from her, smiled, turned around and walked out of the kitchen.Emily tried to return his smile, but all she could manage was a weak nod.This isn’t going to work, she told herself.No matter what he said, Mitch wanted more than friendship from her.His every look, his every word, his every touch was a form of seduction.If only she weren’t so afraid.But how could she not be? No man would want to make love to a woman whose body was hideously scarred.How could he run his hands over her damaged flesh and not cringe?After dinner tonight, she would have to end their relationship before it went any further, but she wanted—no, she needed—the pleasure of one beautiful evening with Mitch.Emily had set the table with her best—Royal Doulton china, sterling silver flatware and Swedish crystal.She had arranged the centerpiece hurriedly, using the spring flowers from her small flower bed in the yard.The tapering candles, four all together, in their crystal double holders, flickered like twinkling stars, casting a warm glow over the room.Nervously, Emily patted the sides of the pastel-green cushion in the antique French cane-back chair on which she sat.The last man for whom she’d prepared dinner had been her husband.The night before he died.The night before her whole world had been destroyed.Emily looked across the table at Mitch, smiled when he smiled at her, then forced her gaze away from his.Glancing around the room, she absorbed the atmosphere she had created.The romantic, intimate mood she had set.Her dining room was small, but she had redecorated it during the past year, using many of Hannah McLain’s treasures.Uncle Fowler had encouraged her in every way possible to renew her interest in the world, to embrace life again.This house, this summer cottage on the eastern shore of Mobile Bay, had come to mean more to Emily than a home.Each room was a precious part of the sanctuary she had created for herself.Each picture on the wall, each lamp, each piece of furniture, had been selected and installed as therapy for a woman who hadn’t cared whether she lived or died.A stylized draped fabric wallpaper wrapped the dining room.A room-size needlepoint rug covered the floor.And an antique Country French hutch held her collection of trompe l’oeil plates [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]