Sympathetic Magic(34)

“It’s lovely,” she said honestly.

“Well, I’ll let you settle in. Just meet me down in the family room when you’re ready.”

So polite, so casual and friendly, as if she were an old friend — a platonic one at that — instead of a woman he’d made no secret of his interest in. But although she couldn’t claim to know Lucas well, she did know that was just his way. At any rate, she was glad of having a little private time to catch her breath and regroup before being with him.

“Thanks, Lucas. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

He nodded and went out, and she resisted the impulse to close the door. No, she’d only get the more fragile pieces out of her suitcase so they wouldn’t wrinkle too badly, and put her toiletries in the bathroom, then run a brush through her hair and refresh her lipstick. The rest of it could wait for later; she didn’t want Lucas to think she was hiding in here, delaying the moment when their three days together would really begin.

Never mind that that was exactly what she wanted to do.

She hung up the dresses and jacket she was concerned about, and dug her cosmetic bag and a few other items out of the suitcase and went into the bathroom. It was just as lovely as the rest of the house, with custom Mexican tile and dark cabinets and warm slate on the floor. The fixtures were dark rubbed bronze, and fluffy terra-cotta-colored towels waited for her on no fewer than three separate racks.

Trying to impress me, Lucas? she thought. If that was his intent, he was doing a fairly good job of it. Yes, she’d known that the Wilcoxes did pretty well for themselves, and Lucas more than most, but this house just seemed to point out all the shortcomings in her own cottage, which, face it, had been due for an overhaul for some years, as its last remodel had been done sometime in the ’50s…and her bathroom had the pink tile to show for it. Every time she went in there, she wanted to wrinkle her nose.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that, instead pulled out her brush and gave her hair a quick once-over, then dabbed on some more lipstick. She really hadn’t known what to expect from this outing, so she was wearing jeans and a dark wine-colored sweater and brown ankle boots. One of the pieces Angela had made a while back, an amethyst crystal point topped with a faceted amethyst and traced with delicate silver wire, snuggled in the hollow of her throat. The ensemble should be fine for most outings, she guessed, and if Lucas planned to take her to a five-star restaurant or something, well, then, she’d just have to come back and change.

As she descended the staircase, she heard the faint murmur of a television from somewhere toward the back of the house, so she headed in that direction. Sure enough, there was Lucas in what had to be the family room, a clubby “man cave” kind of place, with its walls painted dark green and dark brown leather sofas. An enormous flat-screen TV hung on one wall, embedded in a cabinet above another fireplace. At the moment, the screen was displaying some kind of golf tournament. When Margot entered the room, he picked up the remote and turned off the television.

“Just catching up,” he said, sounding almost apologetic.

“Angela mentioned that you played,” Margot replied. “Is it an important match?”

“Not really.” He stood up, his manner almost diffident, as if, now that he actually had her here, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. After a pause, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and said, “I thought maybe we’d go downtown. You can see Connor’s gallery, some of the local sights. That sound good?”

“It sounds fine,” she told him. Actually, she was interested to see the place where Angela had stayed for most of the winter, even though she knew it was now occupied by Connor’s cousin Mason. And going around downtown would give her some much-needed points of reference.

He seemed relieved that she hadn’t offered any protest. “Great. Did you bring a jacket? It’s probably a good deal chillier here than what you’re used to.”

Oh. She should have thought of that. “I did, but it’s still in the back seat of my car.”

“That’s fine. We’ll get it when we go out to the garage.”

She was already holding her purse, so there wasn’t much else to do except follow him through the house, then make a brief detour to get her coat. To her surprise, he led her over to the SUV — which turned out to be a BMW — rather than the Porsche. She raised an eyebrow, and he said,

“I figured this might be a little more your speed. Not quite so flashy.”

Well, she wasn’t really sure a BMW was much more her speed than a Porsche, but at least it was black and not a sports car. She climbed into the passenger seat, and waited as he came around to the driver’s side and got in. Being in the car with him like that, having him so close to her…it seemed a little overwhelming. Something about him felt so much larger in close quarters.