color is blue.”
That’s what I get? Granted, I didn’t put any limitations on the question. So I’ll roll with it. “Really? That’s surprising.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen you wear blue. You wear black or green. I think you wore a white shirt one time.”
“I look good in black and green. They both bring out the color of my eyes.”
“You’ll get no argument from me there. You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I’m puzzled, though.”
“Why?”
“Because you seem almost… I don’t know. Like your looks don’t matter to you.”
“My looks aren’t who I am.”
“Exactly my point. So why do you wear colors that show off one of your best features?”
He takes another sip of wine.
Ha! He can’t answer. I’m loving this.
Finally, “I guess I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, you know. Everyone wants to accentuate their best features. It’s simply…human.”
“Except my looks…” He stares down at his wineglass.
“What?”
He jerks his head back up. “Nothing. All’s fair now. Your turn. Tell me something about yourself.”
I take a sip, draining my wineglass. The smooth Barbera is like silk on my tongue. I want to open up, tell him everything about my past. Let him inside me the way I want to be inside him. But it’s too soon for that. I feel it in my bones.
“Okay,” I say. “My favorite gemstone is the garnet.”
Then my heart thuds. Did I just tell him my favorite gemstone? Is that going to sound like I’m gunning for a gift of jewelry? From this man who doesn’t love me? Who wants me but is only willing to commit to me for two months?
Should’ve gone with the whole favorite color routine.
I totally wasn’t thinking.
He stands and takes our empty wineglasses to the sink. “Coffee?” he asks.
I open my mouth to remind him I don’t drink coffee, when—
“Sorry. You don’t drink coffee.”
“No.”
I guess the gemstone conversation is over.
He starts a pot of coffee, for himself, I presume, and then turns to me. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
“Okay.” I stand and follow him to his bedroom, trying not to think about how I woke up here alone.
He walks to his large chest and opens the top drawer. He pulls out a large velvet jewel box and opens it, showing it to me.
I gasp. Nestled on the black velvet is a garnet necklace. Three strands of tiny gems put together in a woven pattern so that it looks almost like rope. It’s beautiful and unique, like nothing I’ve ever seen.
“It was my mother’s,” he says. “My real mother. Her name was Cheri.”
I drop my mouth open. Is this the same man who told me Jade was his real mother? His language perplexes me, but only for a moment, as I can’t draw my gaze from the beautiful piece of art in the velvet jewel case.
“There wasn’t much to recover from the house after her suicide. We don’t have any photos of her, and there wasn’t much of value, so most of it went to charity when the Steels adopted us. But a few things remained. This is one of them.”
“It’s amazing.” Garnets, despite their beauty, aren’t overly expensive, so it’s not unusual that Dale’s biological mother would have a piece such as this. I reach out and touch it, running my fingers over the tiny facets.
“It’s not worth much,” he says. “I had it appraised a while back.”
“Garnets are my favorite, but they’re considered only a semiprecious stone,” I say. “I guess that shows you about my taste.”
“You have impeccable taste in wine.”
I laugh. “I like what I like. To me, a garnet is more beautiful than a diamond.”
“Because it’s the color of red wine,” he says. “Of a dark Syrah.”
Funny that I never considered that angle. I just adore the deep red. But he’s right. It’s the color of Syrah.
The color of Dale’s voice.
He takes the piece from the box. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to put it on you.”
My jaw drops. “Dale…”
“I’ve never seen it on anyone. I certainly never remember my mother wearing it. And my other mother—Jade—never wore it either. She kept it for me and gave it to me when I turned eighteen.”
“And you never let anyone wear it? Not even the woman you were in love with?”
“No. Now turn around.”
I’m trembling. Actually trembling, as I turn around and pull my hair off my neck.
He clasps the necklace, his fingers warm against my shivering flesh. The piece is heavy and cool against me.
I turn toward him. “Well?”
He smiles. “Now I have.”
“Now you’ve what?”
He draws in