Silence fell over the room. Adam wanted to say something—anything. He racked his brain to think of anything to keep her talking, to hear that quiet, soothing voice a little longer. God, why couldn’t he ask her to stay for a while? It was going to be hard enough going through Nick’s stuff, let alone wondering what she’d be doing in that big old house, alone.
“I was wonder—”
“No one comes out here,” she interrupted. “So you shouldn’t be disturbed. I’ll make sure not to come down here. I mean…I won’t, I won’t bother you or anything.”
Adam stared at her, dumbfounded. Had he said something to make her think he wouldn’t want her around? “It’s okay if—”
“I’m going to go. Okay, if you need anything, just let me know. Okay…yeah, I’ll just…”
Why was she so nervous? He watched her ocean-blue eyes dart from side to side. She was scanning the room like a caged tiger. Oh shit! She hadn’t been in here since Nick died. Adam felt like an ass. He’d known the sight was going to throw him for a loop, but he hadn’t figured how it would affect her.
Before he could protest and try to say something to ease her nervousness, she’d already made her way to the door. The sound of the wooden screen door thudded as her silent footsteps took her away from him.
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. That woman was pure sensual grace and innocent femininity wrapped into one curvy package.
THE EVENING BREEZE brought a much-needed reprieve from the already sweltering heat of the beginning summer season. Lily poured a glass of lemonade and sat on the steps lining the back porch. She looked over the blanket of emerald grass stretching to the oaks and descending farther to the gardens. She sipped the sour liquid and leaned back against the wooden stair, wincing when the board rubbed the welt on her lower back. A lazy grin eased across her face at the memory of what caused the injury. She peered up at the dusky-pink and shimmery-orange clouds. The stars were hanging like elusive jewels in the impending twilight sky.
The constriction in her chest had taken over an hour to ease after leaving the stable house. Being surrounded by all Nicholas’s art supplies—hell, just all of him—had been suffocating to the point of making her dizzy. Worn T-shirts were still in piles beside the couch and socks flung on the coffee table. The realness of Nicholas not coming home was ripping at her thoughts. She’d never be able to call him again to open a jar of peanut butter or make him a fried bologna sandwich. She needed to run, to get far away from the familiar smell of him.
A rustle came from the tree line. Trying to focus her sight, Lily peered into the darkness of the woods. She could see a tall figure emerge from the path onto the lawn. Adam.
Lily felt a soft flutter fill her belly as she rubbed her stomach, trying to ease the sensation. It remained. As he approached she could see he looked different. His hair had been tossed into a cute mess on his head, his eyes were puffy, and he’d changed from his earlier dress clothes into jeans and a worn-out T-shirt. He looked simply delicious. Lily stood up and clasped her hands behind her back.
“Hello.” Lily had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from wagging her tongue. The faded New York Jets T-shirt hugged the thick muscles on his chest. The sleeves weren’t in any better shape, trying to keep attached at the seams over his hard biceps. Lily sighed. He was beautiful. “You look tired. Want to have a seat?” She sat back down and folded her hands in her lap.
Once he sat down, she could smell the earthy scent of his cologne mingled with the tempting aroma of his sweat. She prayed he couldn’t notice her leaning a bit closer to take it in. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, attempting to distract herself from his intoxicating scent.
He hung his head between his hands and murmured his decline of the offer. “He was truly talented. I always envied that about him.” Adam rubbed his forehead as if trying to scrub out the memories. She remembered him doing the very same thing in the car.
“He admired you,” she said. “Nicholas talked about his big brother and how he was out finding fame and fortune around the world.” Lily leaned back against the stair, hiding her wince. “He never mentioned how though.”
“Nick painted the pictures. I only took photographs of things.” He stared out into the looming darkness. “I’m a photojournalist.”
“That sounds exciting.”
He finally leaned back and stretched his legs out on the stairs. “I guess it can be.” Adam looked at Lily’s soil-covered feet and smiled.
Lily felt her heart stop. One beat…two…there it went with the lub-dub she needed. She wanted to reach out and caress the faint dimple that gently dented his cheek.