Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,35

and was astounded to find it was one of the best he’d ever had. And he’d drunk many expensive wines in his time. In fact, Cynthia had always insisted on ordering the most costly bottle on the wine list every time they ate out. He pushed thoughts of her away and concentrated on the captivating young woman seated in his kitchen. It was damned hard right now to remember she was the enemy.

With great discipline, Chris turned his attention to preparing dinner while she worked at the computer.

Every now and then Libby would steal a glance his way, watching with interest as he capably chopped, sliced, and diced the ingredients for their meal. There was something inherently sexy about the way a man commanded the kitchen, she mused. It almost predicted what kind of lover he would be. Those who just threw things together lacked the subtle finesse it took to please a woman. Those who paid attention to every detail, who determined to make every course perfect, would be the same in bed. Libby blushed at the turn her thoughts had taken and focused her attention back to the computer screen.

“What have you learned, Elizabeth?” he asked several minutes later, peeking over her shoulder.

“Let me tell you about the vineyard, first,” she said, pointing to the screen. ”See this photo? It’s an aerial showing Harte’s Desire in 1931. There’s no mistaking the rows of grape vines in the southwest corner of the property not far from the river.”

Chris adjusted his eyes to the somewhat blurry image and discovered she was right. “I see what you mean,” he said somewhat incredulously.

“Now, look at this aerial taken a few years ago.” She clicked and a new image came up. “Here’s that same southwest corner, and you can just barely make out the remnants of the vineyard. I’ll bet it’s still there, Chris, just terribly overgrown like the rest of the gardens here.”

“That’s impressive,” he said, his head so close to hers she could smell him, a rich, no-nonsense, musky fragrance tinged with evergreen. Heaven help her, she thought. She was always a sucker for a man who wore aftershave.

“I’ll take a look next week to see if it’s still there. I suspect the vineyard was their son’s doing and I’ve found there were several vintages that got awards in the early 1900s.”

“And the Tiffany window?” he asked, pausing to take another sip of wine. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, that’s how siren-like she was right now. The sailor in him was ready to get dashed on the rocks because of her. Alarmed at the unexpected need filling him, he stepped back, hoping to put some much-needed distance between them.

“I’ve found out a little bit. The maker’s mark is authentic and it matches that seen on other windows he’s crafted. From the scant research I’ve done tonight, it seems to be one of his early commissions. But I’ll have to contact Tiffany’s on Monday and speak with their archivist.”

“You really know your stuff, Elizabeth,” he said with honest admiration, thinking Rich Stone hadn’t lied about Libby’s talents. “This place has been full of surprises today, thanks to you.”

She heard the praise in his voice and wished he were anyone but Christopher Darnell.

Chris smiled warmly at her. “Dinner’s ready,” he announced. “Why don’t we eat on the back porch where we can enjoy the river view?”

Chris piled utensils and two fragrant plates of chicken stir fry with rice onto a tray, while Libby brought out their wine glasses, tucking the half-empty bottle of 1910 merlot under her arm. They settled into two cushioned wicker chairs with a small wicker table between them. For a few minutes neither spoke as the lazy river provided a soothing backdrop to the end of what had been—for her—an eventful day. Relaxing in a way she hadn’t for months, Libby kicked off her shoes and socks, and settled cross-legged with a sigh into the chair before picking up her plate. The scenery was as intoxicating as the man sitting next to her.

“You mentioned when we first met that you’d been away from Borden’s Landing for a few months. Was it business or pleasure?” he asked casually as they started eating. He took another sip of wine feeling an odd, unfamiliar contentment settle somewhere in his gut. Sitting with her, here, felt right in a way that was hard to define.

Libby quickly decided this topic was much safer than one where she