Holding the Dream Page 0,45

want a serious lesson."

Then he put a hand over Kate's and shifted his gaze to the house. She was relaxed enough not to pull away. "It's great, isn't it?"

"It's nice." All wood and glass, she mused, bilevel decks, flowers already blooming riotously, that wonderful cypress bent and magical. "I've seen it before."

"From the outside." Knowing she'd never wait for him to come around to her door, he leaned across her to open it. And inhaled the simple scent of soap. Enjoying it, he let his gaze wander lazily from her mouth to her eyes. "You'll be another first."

"Excuse me?"

God, was he losing his mind or was he actually starting to look forward to that edgy tone? "My first guest." He got out of the car, retrieved his briefcase and jacket. As they started up the walk, he took her hand in a friendly gesture. "You can hear the sea," he pointed out. "It's just close enough. I've caught a couple of glimpses of seals, too."

It was charming - almost too charming, she thought. The setting, the sounds, the scent of roses and night-blooming jasmine. What was left of the setting sun spread vivid, heartbreaking color across the western sky. The twisted shadows from the trees were long and deep.

"A lot of tourists drive along here," she said, fighting the spell. "Isn't that going to bother you?"

"No. The house is set back from the road, and the bedrooms face the water." He turned the key in the lock. "There's just one problem."

She was glad to hear it. Perfection made her nervous. "What?"

"I don't have much in the way of furniture." He opened the door and proved his point.

It shouldn't have delighted her. Bare floors, bare walls, bare space. Yet she found it delightful, the way the entranceway flowed into a room. The simplest of welcomes. The wide glass doors on the facing wall exploded with that stunning sunset, almost demanded to be opened wide to it.

The yellow pine floors gleamed under her feet as she stepped inside, crossed over them. There was no rug, as yet, to tame that ocean flood of shine.

He would get one, she imagined. It was practical, sensible. But, she thought, it would also be a shame.

From her outside survey of the house, she hadn't guessed that the ceilings were so high or that the stairs leading to the next level were open, as open as the carved pickets in the ornate railing that skirted the second story.

She could see how cleverly, how simply one room became another, so that the house appeared to be one large living space. White walls, golden floors, and the beautiful bleeding light from the west.

"Great view," she managed and wondered why her palms were damp. Casually she wandered to a crate on which stood an elaborate stereo system. The only piece of furniture was a ratty recliner with duct tape holding the arms together. "You've got the essentials, I see."

"No point in living without music. I picked up the chair at a yard sale. It's so awful it's wonderful. Want a drink?"

"Just some club soda, or water." Alcohol was off the list for a couple of reasons, and he was one of them.

"I've got some Templeton mineral water."

She smiled. "Then you've got the best."

"I'll take you on a tour after I've gotten dinner started. Come in the kitchen and keep me company."

"You know how to cook?" It was the shock of it that made her follow him.

"Actually, I do. You like grits and chitlins, right?" He waited a beat, turned, and wasn't disappointed with the look of sheer horror on her face. "Just kidding. How about seafood?"

"Not those crawfish things."

"I make a hell of a crawfish etouffee, but we'll save that for when we're better acquainted. If the rest of the house hadn't already sold me, this would have done it."

The kitchen was done in dramatic maroon and white tiles, with a center island that gleamed like an iceberg. A built-in banquette curved in front of a wide window that looked out on blooming flowers and the deep-green lawn.

"Subzero," Byron commented, running a loving hand over the stainless-steel front of a wide refrigerator. "Convection oven, Jenn-Air range, teak cabinets."

There was a big blue bowl of fresh, glossy fruit on the counter. The grinding in Kate's stomach told her if she didn't eat soon, she'd die. "You like to cook?"

"It relaxes me."

"Okay, why don't you relax? I'll watch."

She had to admit it was an impressive show. She sipped chilled water while he