The Shop on Main(27)

“Jenny, Becky Lee, and I used to come here. Still do sometimes. It’s peaceful.”

Owen sat down beside her on the blanket. Close, but not touching. “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes. That sounds nice.”

Owen deftly opened the wine. She was impressed. She always had to wrestle a bit to get wine open. His fingers grazed hers as he handed her a glass. She had an overwhelming urge to tangle her fingers up with his and connect, but she just took the glass and sipped her wine.

Owen sat near, looking at her, not quite staring, not quite not staring. She felt a flush of warmth rise through her.

“The sun just lights up your hair.”

She self-consciously flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “My hair is always going every which way. Has a mind of its own.”

He leaned closer and moved a lock of her hair away from her face, his hand trailing gently across her check. “I like your hair.”

Her breath caught and her heart tripped. His soft touch seared her, branded her with longing she hadn’t felt in years, waking a part of her that she had hidden in the daily bustle that was her life.

She wanted to reach out and touch his face. Watch his eyes. See his reaction. But, of course, she didn’t. She didn’t quite have the nerve.

She cleared her throat. “I should get dinner set out.” She busied herself with pulling out all the wonderful food Becky Lee had made for them. At the last minute, Bella had packed real plates and silverware and cloth napkins. Owen just had seemed like the real plate kind of guy. Especially since she now knew he’d never been on a picnic.

They filled their plates with food. Owen looked so relaxed, but she felt like she was strung tighter than the line she had stretched across a wall of her shop to hang some prints. She obviously didn’t have the same effect on him that he had on her. She watched him pick up his wine glass and she followed the glass right up to his lips. Strong lips. Not quick to smile, but when they did it transformed his face from stuffy businessman to charming, approachable man.

She turned away, trying to get the image of his lips out of her mind. She grabbed up her sandwich and took a bite. Only to choke. Tears came to her eyes, and Owen moved closer and patted her back.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, still coughing a bit. Gah, she was making such a horrible impression. He knew she didn’t cook, and now it appeared she couldn’t eat. “Just went down the wrong way.” She finally managed a few words.

Owen stayed right by her side. His arm brushed hers, lighting a fire between them that she was afraid burned only in one direction.

She took another sip of wine, waiting for her breathing to settle. But it was impossible to breath with his arm against hers, his warmth sinking into her skin.

Owen reached his hand up and pushed yet another unruly lock of hair away from her face. This time though, he didn’t take his hand way. It hovered near her face, until he reached his knuckle under her chin and tilted her face up to his.

Maybe the burn did go both ways.

His lips lowered to hers, gentle, questioning, then more insistent. She leaned up into the kiss, feeling her heart tapping wildly and her breath coming out in little wisps of air.

He pulled back away a bit and she felt like she was free falling. She wanted to crawl right back smack in the middle of that kiss. He looked at her and the heat of his gaze burned her face, filling her with a passionate ache deep inside.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you.” Owen’s voice was low.

“Really?”

“Ah, yes. Really. I’m inexplicably drawn to you even though I tell myself we just met.” He traced a finger across her lips.

His finger, so gentle on her lips, lit a fire within her. She could easily be talked into abandoning all reason at this point. She wanted this man.

“Let’s try one more kiss.” Owen leaned forward.

Yes, sir. Let’s. Her mind spun out of control.

Owen kissed her again, a long and lingering kiss. A kiss that was more shared with her, than claimed her. A kiss that made her lose all rational thought.

Owen took her into his arms, pulling her close. She could feel his heart beat against her. He wasn’t as calm as she’d thought. Owen leaned back, lying down on the blanket, and pulled her with him, kissing her the whole time. His warm hands roamed over her arms, her back.

She finally pulled away, just a bit, to look at his face. She could see the desire in his eyes now. How had she ever thought he was hard to read?

Here she was, in the county park, necking with Owen like they were teenagers. She kissed him again, her breath coming out in disjointed huffs. Hmm, maybe acting like a teenager wasn’t all bad.