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“Do you use this a lot?”
I moved behind her, reaching around her to stroke the felt the same way she had. “Not as often as I should for how much I paid for it. You play?”
“Not since college.” She spun, and her chest skimmed mine. “I think I remember the rules.”
I smirked. “Maybe we can play a round or two after dinner.”
Her shoulder lifted. “Maybe.” Then she slid out from between me and the table to continue the tour.
In this case, I didn’t mind walking behind her. Tonight, she’d left her conservative little dresses at home, trading them for dark, flared jeans and a silky black top that dipped low in the front. A long gold necklace disappeared into her exposed cleavage, tempting me to follow it.
Not the kind of outfit a woman wore when she wanted to draw lines with a man. This was an outfit meant to drag him over poorly constructed boundaries by his dick.
She twirled a handle on the foosball table and threw a magnetic dart at the board on her path through the room.
“This is a fun space,” she remarked. “I’m surprised you have an entire room devoted to games.”
“You don’t think I’m fun?” I asked dryly.
The glance she shot me over her shoulder was coy as hell. “You told me more than once how much you don’t like playing games.”
“And yet I keep allowing you to play them with me.”
She stopped walking and spun around to face me, her jaw dropping. “You’re allowing me?”
Eating the space between us, I curved my arm around her waist and yanked her against me. She grabbed on to my shirt at my waist to steady herself but didn’t let go once she had her balance.
“Let’s face it, Clara, if I didn’t like your style of doing things, I wouldn’t have continued showing up at The Tavern, and I damn well wouldn’t have texted you after the meeting at Rossi. Let me clarify for you, though. You teasing me is cute as hell. You running when we both know you’re not going anywhere isn’t. Let’s cut that shit out now. You’re here because you want to be, and I’m pleased you made that decision.”
I dipped down and brushed my lips over hers. “Are you hungry? If you play sous-chef, dinner can be ready faster.”
Only a brief hesitation before she nodded. “Yes. I’m hungry.”
The corner of my mouth quirked. “You have to let go of my shirt if you want me to cook for you, sweetness. At least for a little while.”
She looked down at her fisted hand. “Oh.” Fingers unfurling, she dropped the fabric and stepped back. “I didn’t even realize.”
“I know you didn’t.” I pecked her again. “I like that. You grabbing on to me without thinking about it. It’s sexy.”
“You yanked me into you. I was keeping my balance, not trying to be sexy.”
“Exactly. You don’t have to try.”
Her cheeks blazed brightly for me, and I wondered who had neglected this woman. Her reactions to compliments were too violent for her to be used to receiving them. If I’d been married to a woman like her, I would have never failed to remind her how valued she was. Then again, there was a reason she was divorced.
***
Clara knew her way around a kitchen. I didn’t let her do a lot since she was my guest, but her confidence was obvious. She wielded a knife like an assassin, cutting vegetables like she was going to be graded on precision.
While I went in and out to tend to the grill, I caught her singing along to the tunes playing from my speakers, and when she didn’t know I was looking, swaying her hips to the beat.
Slowly, the woman I’d met at The Tavern emerged from her icy shell, relaxing, muscle by muscle, right under my gaze. The full glass of wine had probably helped, but I liked to think I had something to do with it. She was getting comfortable with me again.
Maybe it was being in my space, letting her see something real about me. I liked her here, and that said something. I kept my privacy closely guarded, yet I hadn’t hesitated in inviting Clara to my home. There hadn’t been another woman here in years, but she looked good in my kitchen and at my pool table.
We ate our steaks and grilled vegetables out on the deck. With nothing but trees behind my house, it gave a vast sense of privacy.
“God, it’s nice back here.” Clara lifted her glass of wine and relaxed back in her cushioned chair.
