Taming the Lone Wolff(24)

                She shrugged. “I knew you were standing guard.”

                “And what about your own safety?”

                “I used a disguise. Besides, I can go most places without being recognized. It’s only a problem here, because people now know where I live. The magazine spilled that information without my permission.”

                He stood, picked up his pants and stepped into them, zipping and buckling as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I think you were avoiding me.”

                Her face flamed with color, either from his pointed reference to last night or because his bare chest made her woozy. “What a ridiculous idea.”

                He didn’t bother putting on the shirt. Perhaps because he knew his half-dressed state gave him the upper hand. “Are you just going to ignore it?”

                “Ignore what?”

                He snorted in disbelief at her deliberately obtuse answer. “Our kiss.”

                “That’s my plan.” One she hadn’t firmed up until just that moment.

                “I didn’t peg you for a coward.”

                The accusation stung. But she wouldn’t allow him to goad her. Not when she felt so ill-prepared for the fight. With all the self-possession she could muster, she turned her back on him and walked toward the house. “You’re welcome to eat with me on the porch.” She tossed the words over her shoulder, not looking to see if he would follow. “But put on a shirt, because we dress for dinner.”

                * * *

                Larkin grinned in spite of himself. Winnie Bellamy was a pistol, as his uncle Victor used to say. Truth be told, Winnie would no doubt fit in well with the outspoken, arrogant Wolffs. She was soft in appearance and speech, but beneath her careful etiquette and creamy magnolia skin was a woman with a lot of passion. For her life’s mission, for her home and, judging by last night, for one lucky man who had the guts to take her on for the long haul. Too bad Larkin wasn’t that man.

                He lingered a moment to put on his shoes and button his shirt. By the time he reached the porch, Winnie had brought out two plates of steaming lasagna along with a bowl of salad. Larkin’s stomach growled audibly as he ascended the steps. “Smells great,” he said, opening the screen door and surveying the cozy tête-à-tête she had arranged.

                For the first time he realized she was dressed up. A taupe linen shift dress. A necklace of jet beads that nestled between her breasts. And matching stud earrings. Her strong-willed hair had been tamed into a chignon at the back of her neck. Today she looked every inch the heiress.

                But her feet were bare. And that made him smile.

                She sat down and waved a hand. “Don’t let it get cold.”

                They ate in companionable silence as the shadows lengthened. Perhaps Winnie would have been content to let the meal remain so, but his curiosity got the best of him. He sat back, sipping the glass of Chianti she had offered him. “I’m still puzzling over this thing you do, Winnie. Did you have an unhappy childhood? Do you see yourself in those kids down there?”

                She seemed shocked by his question. “Good Lord, no. My parents were lovely people. Even if I had drawn crayon murals on the walls and danced naked at one of their dinner parties, they would never have used corporal punishment. They doted on me in their own way. But they simply didn’t know what to do with a child. They could have offered me up for adoption, you know…or even terminated the pregnancy. I’ve always been grateful that they wanted me, even though I was a complete disruption to their ordered lives.”