Lucas had told her to pull into the driveway, so that was what she did, feeling very conspicuous. All right, the place actually did appear fairly private, since it sat on a large lot, and pine trees surrounded it on three sides. Even so, she couldn’t help thinking the neighbors would see her car sitting in front of the garage for days on end and would draw their own conclusions as to exactly why she was spending time with Lucas Wilcox.
Even as she began to turn off the engine, however, the door on the far right garage bay — there were three — began to open, and Lucas stepped out. She pushed the button to roll down the window and gave him an inquisitive look.
“I thought you might feel better if you could park inside.”
She did, immeasurably, but she only gave him a brief nod. “Thank you, Lucas.”
He wore a faint smile, as if he’d guessed precisely what she’d been thinking. “No worries.” Then he stepped out of the way so she could pull into the garage. In the bay next to her was a bright red Porsche, and beyond that the dark bulk of what she thought was some kind of SUV, although she couldn’t see what type.
Knowing Lucas, I doubt it’s a Ford, she thought ruefully, turning off the engine and pulling her keys from the ignition.
He’d followed her into the garage, and stood waiting as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Pop the trunk, and I’ll get your luggage.”
Such as it was. “You don’t have to — ”
“I refuse to make a lady carry her own suitcases.”
This was said with such a disarming smile that Margot could only lift her shoulders in response. “Have it your way. There are only two anyway.”
“That does make it easier.” He pulled both her suitcases out of the trunk, one an airline-regulation wheeled case, although Margot had never been on an airplane in her life, and the other a small black leather satchel her mother had given her a few years back. Why precisely Sylvia had thought that an appropriate gift, when Margot never went anywhere, she wasn’t sure, but at least it was coming in handy now.
Lucas picked up both pieces with ease, saying over his shoulder, “Right this way.”
They walked around the other two vehicles, then through a door that opened into the kitchen. Margot tried to keep her eyes from widening, as that kitchen was bigger than her living room. “Cook much?” she inquired, looking at the apparent acres of granite countertop and the professional-grade stainless-steel appliances.
“Not at all,” Lucas said cheerfully.
Rachel would probably spit bullets if she heard that. Her tiny kitchen was even smaller than the admittedly cramped one in Margot’s own cottage. Then again, Rachel managed to create works of art in that postage stamp of a kitchen, whereas it didn’t sound as if Lucas even boiled water in his, again proving the old saying that it wasn’t what you had, it was what you did with it.
But that thought led Margot’s mind to exactly what that old saying had actually been referencing, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she followed Lucas past the dining room and up the stairs, all the while trying not look around and stare. She’d known his house would be impressive, but she hadn’t known it would be quite this stunning. Twenty-foot ceilings with tongue-and-groove covering them, a massive stone fireplace that reached to the ceiling, enormous windows, every one of them filled with views of ponderosa pines.
It reminded her of something she’d read in a book once, of an inner-city student in New York wistfully writing of living someplace where she could have “windows with trees in them.” Well, this place definitely had windows with trees in them….
“Here we go,” Lucas said, leading her into a room twice the size of her own bedroom at home, with sturdy Craftsman-style furniture in dark oak, and a comforter with a subtle Southwest pattern of rust and blue and gold on the bed. He set her bags down on the floor next to the dresser. “That’s empty, so if you want to put anything away — ”
“That’s fine,” she said hastily. Yes, she’d do some unpacking later, but not with him watching her.
“This room has its own bathroom,” he went on, hardly noting the interruption. “Right through there.” And he pointed to an opening just past the closet. “Nice and private.”
She definitely saw the glint in his dark eyes when he said “private.” Teasing her, probably, for jumping to conclusions a few days ago and thinking he expected her to share his own room. Well, she wasn’t about to acknowledge the hint. Anyway, it did feel good to know that this bedroom had its own en suite bath, and so she wouldn’t have to be wandering the hallways of his house in her robe and slippers.