on full display tonight, thanks to a snug T-shirt that showed off his broad chest and impressive biceps, plus a pair of broken-in jeans that hugged his lean hips and muscular legs.
No wonder her already elevated adrenaline had gone off the charts when he’d stepped out of his Taurus in the parking lot.
She shifted in the seat and tugged at the neckline of her suddenly too-tight mock turtleneck.
Cate’s intel suggested Brent didn’t have any steady female companionship—and the fact he’d been reading on a typical date night appeared to support that conclusion.
That didn’t mean he’d be interested in getting to know her, however. Hadn’t he turned down her last offer to stay awhile on the night she’d found the fake bomb?
But what did she have to lose by trying again?
“Home sweet home.” He pulled into her cul-de-sac and guided the car toward her house.
It was now or never.
Taking a deep breath, she strove for a nonchalant tone. “I know it’s getting late—and you have your book waiting for you—but can I offer you a drink? And maybe dessert? I don’t make killer baklava like Grace does, but my carrot cake is a family favorite.”
Thank goodness her restlessness had compelled her to whip one up today in between stages of working on the floor, or all she would have been able to offer was yogurt.
A dessert unlikely to persuade anyone to hang around.
The seconds dragged by as he swung into her driveway and set the brake.
Message received.
Inviting him in had been a bad idea.
She needed to lighten up the atmosphere and try to salvage this awkward situation.
“On the other hand, if you do stay I may put you to work helping me refinish floors.” She forced up the corners of her mouth. “For someone who’s not into DIY, that wouldn’t be the best—”
“I love carrot cake.”
The rest of her sentence died in her throat.
He angled toward her, but his shadowed face was impossible to read. “I won’t be able to stay long, though. I’m ushering at the early service tomorrow morning. But I can’t pass up carrot cake.”
The encouraging news that Brent was a churchgoer registered at a peripheral level—but it was the end of the sentence that captured her attention.
He was staying!
She tried to contain her elation. “Great. And I totally understand about the early service. I’m used to getting up before dawn for my show, so I always go then too.”
May as well let him know church was part of her regular schedule too. Shared beliefs and interests were the building blocks of relationships, after all.
In case that was where they were headed.
“Good to know we’re on the same page.”
The dimness in the car masked his features, but she had the distinct feeling he was talking about more than their Sunday church habits.
“Uh-huh.”
Real articulate, Eve.
At least he couldn’t see her eye roll in the darkness.
“I’ll get your door.” He circled around the hood, then followed her to the front porch and waited while she fitted the key into the lock.
Or tried to.
It took three fumbling attempts to insert the thing.
Sheesh.
You’d think she’d never invited a man into her home.
Once the door swung open, he joined her in the foyer, her security system beeping in the background.
“Follow me to the kitchen and I’ll shut that off. As you can see”—she waved a hand toward the empty living room—“this remains a work in progress. But I should finish the floors in a week or so.”
She continued to the back of the house, deactivated the alarm, and dropped her purse and notes on the counter. “I have coffee, tea, Diet Sprite, and mango iced tea.”
“Mango iced tea?” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “That’s not an option I often get.”
“It’s Grace’s favorite. I always keep a few bottles on hand. Want to try it?”
“No thanks. That’s too exotic for my tastes. Coffee is fine.”
“Full strength or decaf?”
“The higher the octane, the better. What do you prefer?”
“This late at night I drink herbal tea.”
“In that case, don’t bother with the coffee. I’ll have a soda.”
“It’s no bother. I’ve got a one-cup brewer. But won’t full-strength java keep you awake all night?” She pulled out the bag of coffee and measured a generous portion into the filter.
“Unless I guzzle a pot of caffeine, it doesn’t affect my shut-eye. One cup won’t make a dent.”
“I wish the same was true for me. Have a seat.” She indicated the stools at the island and filled two mugs with water. “I’ll have this ready fast.”
But