Stirring Attraction(18)
The dress will hide your injuries.
That had been her sole criteria when she’d plucked it from her closet, intending to wear it for Ted. But now that Dominic was scrutinizing her, she started thinking about how her body felt beneath the dress.
Full. Hot. Needy.
“And for the record,” he added, “it’s not the dress that I like, it’s what’s beneath.”
“Fine, you can come in,” she said as if every compliment had been a fishing line cast out hoping to reel in an invitation. The alternative—that he meant every word, that he still thought she was beautiful . . . No, she’d rather pretend he’d been trying to secure an invite to sleep on her couch instead of in his car.
“I was just about to pour a glass of wine and run the wildflowers that Ted bought at the grocery store down the garbage disposal,” she added as he stepped into the entryway.
“And you wonder why I never brought you flowers,” he said, taking over the task of locking the door and replacing the chain.
She held up the bottle. “Would you like a glass? I don’t have beer. And I have no idea how to mix a martini.”
“How about coffee?” He walked forward, glancing through the archway off the living room that led to the kitchen.
“It’s late.” She followed him into the bright yellow kitchen that made her think of sunshine and summer. Before summer had become connected to violence. “It might keep you up.”
“That’s the plan.”
He headed straight for the coffeemaker as if he knew his way around. But that was impossible. She’d replaced the cabinets and countertops. Every appliance had been ripped out and redone. The construction ate up most of her savings, but it had been worth it to make the place her own, not a part leftover from her parents’ lives.
“I’m not much use to you if I’m asleep,” he added. “Instead of keeping a lookout.”
She exhaled as if she’d been holding that particular breath for a week, maybe more. He’d be out there tonight, watching over her. She would be safe for one more night.
“What happened with your boyfriend?” he asked once the machine sputtered to life and started gurgling.
She turned away, focusing on the drawer that held the wine opener. “He’s no longer mine.” She fished the corkscrew out and set about trying to open the bottle. “He ended it.”
“Jesus, Lily.” He spoke from behind her. And then his hand covered hers on the bottle. He gently pulled it away from her and finished the job with his left hand. Then he held it out to her. “You’re really racking up a list of men I need to hunt down and hurt.”
She took the wine and turned away. She needed a glass before she took a long, deep swig straight from the source. And if she did that, he’d never believe . . .
“I’m not upset,” she muttered, opening the cabinet and removing a glass tumbler. She didn’t need stemware tonight. “The mugs are over the coffeemaker.”
Carrying her filled glass, she headed for the living room. The small, tidy space held her father’s old baby-blue recliner, a three-person sofa covered in worn brown leather, and a wooden coffee table that her mother had purchased at a yard sale. Matching side tables stood at either end of the couch and the entire set looked as if it had been handmade by one of the local loggers. But the hunting lodge motif looked out of place in the small two-bedroom one-story house.
A mechanical sound emanated from the kitchen, drawing her attention away from the furnishing she should probably update at some point. It continued for a moment, the grinding noise chased by the rush of running water. And then it stopped.
“Trouble finding a mug?” she called. Any other night, the noise would have launched her into a panic. But Dominic was here now. She could save her hide-under-the-covers instinct for another night.
“Nah.” He walked into the room holding an “I Love My Teacher” mug. “I was disposing of your flowers for you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, tracking his movements as he bypassed the recliner and claimed the other end of the sofa.
“Do you always keep the curtains open?” He nodded to the drapes pulled back to reveal a sliding glass door leading to the outside.
“Not at first,” she said. “But my imagination ran wild, wondering who might be on the other side.”
He nodded as if her fears made perfect sense. “Would more light out there help? Maybe a camera or two?”
“It might.” She stared out into the darkness. “There’s one light set up on a motion sensor. I thought floodlights would annoy the neighbors.”