Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(38)

“You never know,” she teased.

She was really pushing now, but he was allowing it, so she continued. “I actually just want to end my curiosity. Where does Nick Sinclair lay his head at night?”

“You’re curious about my bedroom?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m willing to bet that there’s nothing but a mattress in your bedroom,” Abbey said, ignoring his statement purposely.

“And what are you willing to bet?”

He was playing along and it sent a shot of excitement through her chest. She hadn’t thought about what she was willing to bet—again, she’d been impulsive.

“If you win the bet, I’ll cook your dinner. If you lose, you have to cook mine.” She waited for his answer, hoping he’d take her up on it. Either outcome would get him to have dinner with her, and she’d love to have more time to talk to him.

“So, if my room is decorated, you have to cook me dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

As they walked down the hallway, Abbey noticed the authority in his walk, the gentle swing of his arms, the masculinity of his stride. He had broad shoulders and a thin waist. His hairline was perfectly trimmed, his neck smooth, and she wondered if he had someone come in to touch up his neckline every morning.

When they got to the end of the hallway, they stood, facing a closed door. Before he opened it, she stopped him.

“Why do you keep all the doors in your house closed?” she asked.

He looked down at her, the skin between his eyes wrinkling in an adorable way. “I’m not sure. I suppose that it’s a way of finishing off the job. When the staff has tidied the room, and it’s clean, they shut the door then move on to the next room.”

“Like closing the cereal box before you put it in the cabinet?”

The confusion returned on his face. “Something like that.”

She wondered if he’d ever put a cereal box back in a cupboard in his life. Did he even eat cereal? Probably not.

He reached for the doorknob.

The minute the door opened, she was completely surprised. His room was perfectly organized, a large bed in the center, its headboard—patterned, dark leather—nearly spreading across the entire wall. The linens were tan with navy accents, a mass of throw pillows covering the top. Two sleek dark wood bedside tables flanked each side, their lines perfectly straight and angular, but coupled with the lamps and the softness of the bed, they looked quite comfortable. The walls were painted a dark tan, but the thick, white crown molding, paired with the vaulted ceiling, made the room look light and airy. Across from the bed was a flat-screen television bigger than her kitchen table. She wondered if he ever sat in bed and watched it.

“I prefer vegetables to fruit,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m not difficult to please.”

It took her a minute to realize that he was making a joke. She had to cook him dinner!

“There are a lot of pillows on that bed,” she said, ignoring his joke, but not hiding her grin. He followed her gaze.

“Yes.”

“Do you sleep with all those pillows?”

“No.”

“Then why do you have them?” Until now he’d always said he didn’t care about décor. So why did he have all those throw pillows for decoration if he didn’t care about what the room looked like?

He grinned at her. “I have them because they came with the bedding. And it is customary to have blankets when one sleeps.”

“Who decorated this room?” she asked in a playfully interrogating way.

Nick was chewing on a grin, and she could feel the affection for him rising even though she tried to push it back down.

“I did.”

Her mouth hung open in an exaggerated gasp. “You’re holding out on me!”

Nick laughed, the corners of his mouth turning down the way only his did. It made Abbey smile and, no matter how hard she tried to look serious, her smile pushed through her expression.

“It was the only room where Sarah let me choose what I wanted. I told her the house was too frilly. I hate frilly.”

“I’m not a frilly decorator.”

“I know. Well, apart from the flowers in every room. But the decorating itself is not frilly at all. It’s very classic.”

“So, you’re saying you might like my decorating?”

He smiled again, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“You can admit it. I won’t tell anyone that you’re happy.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “How long will you be staying tonight? Do I need to have dinner prepared or will you be cooking?”

“Oh!” Her memory jolted her back to reality. “I planned to leave at four o’clock today. I’m taking Max to see Santa.”