Her unease fled at the self-awareness inhabiting his statements. “You did.”
“So…”
“So?”
The grooves at the corners of his mouth deepened with a wider smile and her heart squeezed. “Fire? Or no fire?”
Draining the wine glass, she tried to get her traitorous pulse to behave. Maybe she would stay till she spoke to the doctor or at least long enough to talk to Luc. Then she had to go. Sexy, damaged host or not…
“I’d like the fire with the rain, but only if you promise me it won’t bother you too much.” One eyebrow was slightly higher than the other, the scar tissue pulled at it. Though he’d been clean-shaven earlier, a hint of stubble shadowed his cheeks and added to the rakish look. When he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, then rolled up the sleeves she tracked the reveal of the same mottled, red skin on his arms. Was he burned all over? How bad of a fire had he been in?
“Tell me a story.” The low murmur of command rolled over her. “Distract me from the fire.”
How the hell could she say no to that? “What kind of story do you want?”
“Your story, but any you want to tell me will do.”
“My story is pretty damn boring.” And she’d need a lot more wine.
“Let me be the judge.” He beckoned to her as he added another log, then added kindling beneath the wood. “Tell me about Florida…tell me what you want your story to be.”
Perching on the edge of one of the chairs, she rubbed her thumb against the wine glass. What did she want it to be?
Fire blazed on the match tip, the scent of sulfur and accelerant sent ice through his veins. Touching the flame to the kindling, he kept his hand steady even as the contact ignited the twigs. Across from him, Colby watched him. Keenly aware of her observation, he contained the unease his nearness to heat evoked. No one else had noticed, or at least none had dared comment on the subject of pathological aversion he’d developed following the incident with Marco.
Colby? She asked him straight out. As the crackling fire spread through the kindling and began to climb to the lick along the logs themselves, he let the match drop into the pit. The weight of her gaze attracted him nearly as much as her scent. Turning the thought over, he felt the corners of his mouth curve. His beautiful guest roused him from what seemed like an enforced slumber. Beautiful. Intelligent.
Challenging…
“You did that like it didn’t even bother you.” Her amber eyes reflected the glow of the fire, twin flames to taunt him.
“I told you, I don’t let fear rule me.” No Alpha could afford to exist in a state of constant anxiety. “Your turn.”
“For?” Though she glanced at the fire, he didn’t miss the smile flirting with her lips or the teasing note in her voice.
“My story.” Choosing the chair opposite hers, he maintained his distance. She’d come with Luc. Luc wanted her here. Reminding himself of the fact would keep him at arms length. Until Luc is better, if she is his mate… Violence surged through him at the thought. Life would have to be particularly cruel to keep dangling potential… Potential nothing. She is a guest.
“Well, I don’t know your story.” The invitation to play curled through the sentence. “But I hear I’m a good listener.”
“Can’t prove that by me.” Retrieving his wine glass and the bottle, he glanced at her.
Eyebrows raised at his retort, she extended her glass. “What is that supposed to mean?”
After refilling her glass to the halfway mark, he set the wine bottle aside before taking a sip of his wine. It was light and lemony, and likely from one of the vineyards in the Hudson Valley. He tended to support local suppliers over imports. “It means you’re ducking telling me about you or your plans, when I asked first.”
“No, you asked me to tell you a story, then you said your story.” She dared him to deny her.
“True, but you’re splitting hairs because you knew what I meant.”
“How am I supposed to know what you meant?” She shrugged. “We don’t know each other. You could have absolutely meant you wanted me to tell you your story…and I suppose I could make something up.”
“Really?” Further amused, he swirled the wine in the glass. The fire was a good accompaniment to the rain if for no other reason than he liked the way the light played over her features. “So, make something up. What is my story?”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head and sucked on her upper lip in thought. The action drew his attention to the soft shape of her mouth. The perfect cupid’s bow offered a lush complement to her flawless features. From the jet black length of her hair to the almond shape of her amber eyes to her honey skin tone, she could be a model. She definitely had the body for a swimsuit model with all the right curves. Pity it was raining, he could take her for a moonlit swim. “You’re a private man, probably because your parents give off a hippie vibe and you spent a lot of time pulling a Woodstock while you were growing up. They’re very laid back, so you tend to be more formal. You’re successful, but not so successful you don’t like to work. You have an office in your house and you go to a lot of meetings so if you don’t own your own company you’re probably some kind of stock trader which means you can do your work online or via the phone.”