Tess crept down the hall, high heels in hand so she wouldn’t make too much noise on the hardwood floor. It was well past midnight and the entire estate was dark. The last thing she wanted to do was wake up the Lord of the house. Who knows what sort of reaction that would cause. After getting reprimanded yesterday, Tess figured she would be walking on egg shells for quite a while.
She had nearly made it to her room when she noticed a muted glow coming from the room across the hall; Will’s study. He had probably forgotten to turn off the light when he finished working for the night. She began to push the door open and was startled to see Will seated in a large leather chair in the corner.
Taking a quick step back, Tess nearly ran the rest of the way to her room when something made her stop. Peeking around the oak doorframe, she took a better look.
Will’s tie was loosened, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was slouching. The first two could be explained away as part of his I’m-going-to-look-extremely-sexy-to-drive-Tess-crazy campaign—of which he knew nothing, of course. But the slouching concerned her. William Bailey was nothing if not proper. Judging by the way he was staring intently at the wall, seemingly lost in his own world, something was wrong. She opened her mouth but then closed it. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the end table. If practically growing up in a bar had taught her one thing it was that when a man drank whiskey and looked like hell, he probably didn’t want to talk about it.
Tess had become so engrossed in the scene before her, that she had forgotten about her heels, and when she went to turn, they smacked into the wall.
Will’s eyes were on her immediately. Slowly, he stood, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black dress slacks. “You’re home late.”
Stepping into the room, she nodded, swallowed hard, “Yes.”
“Date go well?”
Surprised, she met his gaze. How did he know she was on a date?
As if he could read her mind, he gestured towards the shoes. “You don’t usually wear heels.”
For a moment she allowed herself to bask in the idea that he took notice of her shoes. When that moment was done, she mentally chastised herself. “He wasn’t worth wearing the heels.”
A hint of a smile tugged one side of his mouth up and he rocked onto the ball of his foot. “Not your type of bloke?”
Tess, mesmerized by this candid version of Will, found herself at a loss for words and settled for a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. His gaze settled on hers, and she realized once again what a perfect combination of clear blue and slate gray his eyes were. “What is your type, Tess?”
His voice was low and gravelly.
--------------------------
Will knew he was being inappropriate. But damn if he cared right now. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the fact that it was his dead wife’s birthday. Or maybe it was the woman standing in front of him—the woman who looked incredible in that short black skirt. Not that it took a short skirt to get him to notice her. Hell, he’d noticed her whether she was wearing wellies and a raincoat, an apron, or those ridiculous sweatpants that all the Yank girls wore—the ones with PINK across their bottom.
He was just very good at being the proper gentleman.
Upon hearing his question, he expected her teeth to begin worrying her lower lip and her eyes to stray to the floor. She seemed to do that a lot in his presence.
To his surprise, her eyes grew a bit playful and she took another step into his study. “Is this a roundabout way of asking if temperamental Brits with dark hair and gray-blue eyes are my type?”
He frowned. “Is that how you see me? Temperamental?”
He could practically see her bravado drain along with the color in her face, “I didn’t—I mean…no, you—it was meant to be a joke. A bad one, obviously…It wasn’t funny.”
And now her teeth were worrying her lip. She began to take a step back but Will stopped her with a hand gesture. “I wasn’t always, you know? Temperamental, that is.” He could tell she wasn’t going to touch that statement herself, so he continued, “I used to be considerably more laid-back. I apologize for being such an ogre sometimes.”
At that, her gaze lifted, and in it he saw what he could not deal with: pity. He had seen that look from so many people after Lisa passed. From friends, relatives, and people in town who hadn’t even known him before the accident. The last thing he wanted was for Tess to—
“I don’t blame you.” She had come even closer. So close that if he wanted to, he could reach up and tuck that rogue curl back behind her ear. But he had become paralyzed by her words. Nobody, in all of their attempts to ease his grief, had said that they didn’t blame him for becoming withdrawn. Her eyes searched his, and she continued, “If I were in your position I don’t think I could have kept myself together. You…you’re an amazing businessman. People respect you. Me? I would’ve locked myself in my room and only left in order to go get more Ben and Jerry’s.”
He gave a tight smile, “People don’t respect me, Tess—they’re scared of me.”
-------------------------------
Well, she couldn’t deny that one. But that forlorn look on his face made her try. “You just need to have fun, Will. You’re always thinking of work, or Cami, or the estate. Do more for yourself. Do what you would do if nothing bad had ever happened.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and she shivered under his gaze. His thumb grazing her chin. “Tess?”
“Yes?” She swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? Did the room just become clogged with ridiculous amounts of pheromones or is it just me?
“I want to be a man. Not your boss. Not a widower. Not Cami’s dad. Just…me.”
“Okay.”
“Tess?”
“Will!”
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
----------------------------------
Tess idly watched the bubbles on the pancakes burst—the batter slowly sinking in to fill the new hole. Flashes of the night before zipped through her mind like a racy movie trailer. Will, with his perfect jaw and long lashes, tipping her lips up to meet his. Him carrying her—carrying her!—to his bedroom. The clunk of her shoes hitting the floor before they began the frenzied race to undress one another. And then being with Will. Funny how all of those times she imagined what it would be like weren’t anywhere close to reality.
She bit back a smile at the memory of how he’d laughed heartily at her astonished look after he’d playfully smacked her butt. He had been surprisingly lighthearted.
Still, she had no idea what things would be like this morning. Maybe he would come up behind her, place his hands on her hips, and kiss the side of her neck. Or maybe he would stay in his office all day. She frowned at the thought.
“Dad! Tess made pancakes! I to-ld you I smelled something lovely.”
Expertly flipping a pancake, Tess turned, smile in place. “I made them because today is such a special day. A girl has to have a good breakfast if she’s going to stay up all night for her first slumber party.”
Will gave her a sidelong glance that clearly expressed his disapproval at the idea of such a thing. He was clean shaven in a crisp white button down and dark pants; creating a stark contrast to the tousled man she’d slipped away from just hours before. For just a moment she thought his eyes went all molten, as if he could read her thoughts, but Cami hopped up on a bar-stool before she could inspect further. “Can I have a Mickey pancake, Miss Tess?”
“Absolutely,” she nodded, bringing over a plate and syrup. “What about you, Will? Would you like a Mickey?”
He looked up from the paper he was pretending to be very interested in. “No thank you. Just a tea.”
No comments:
Post a Comment