Sandy - Melanie Moreland Page 0,38
to head to the museum?”
“Yes.”
“You like this one.”
I startled at Jordan’s voice. We’d been in the gallery for hours, walking, looking, exploring. I saw paintings I had never seen before. Works of art so beautiful they took my breath away. One Renoir painting in particular caught my eye, and I kept coming back to it, studying the colors, new hues emerging with every sweep of my gaze. It was called Landscape on the Coast near Menton, and I was mesmerized by it.
“Yes.”
“What draws you to it?”
“The colors. The light.”
Jordan tucked me to his side as people went past. We looked at the painting, not speaking. Then he pressed his lips to my head. “Hmm. The same things I see in you. Beautiful light. Breathtaking colors.”
I slapped his arm. “Goof.”
He chuckled, capturing my hand. “It’s true, Sandy. I see that when I look at you. I see life again.”
“Jordan,” I breathed out. “I think that is one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me.”
“It’s the simple truth.”
Without thought, I wrapped my hand around his neck and pulled his face down to kiss him. He instantly wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in tight. I wasn’t a short woman or delicate, but Jordan was tall enough, at times I felt as if I were a piece of Dresden china being carefully cradled within his embrace. It was still an odd feeling, yet I found I liked it.
He released me, smiling. “Should I inquire about purchasing this?” He indicated the painting. “I’m sure I can find forty or fifty million kicking around somewhere.”
“Nice little souvenir,” I agreed. “But I don’t think they sell the paintings off the walls.”
“Pity.”
I slipped my arm through his. “Let’s go see more.”
Hours later, my feet were tired from walking, my mind full of all the beauty we’d seen. Outside, the sun was still shining, although the temperature had dropped a little as early evening set in. We waited for the car to arrive, our hands clasped together. “Thank you for today.”
Jordan tightened his grip on my fingers. “We can come back if you want. The membership is good for a year, and I can get us tickets to look at the exhibit again this weekend.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “Whatever you want to do this weekend, Sandy. It’s yours.”
“Dinner,” I stated. “I’m starving.”
He grinned, opening the car door as it came to a stop in front of us. “Our reservation is in two hours. I have some appetizers waiting at the hotel, and we can get dressed and go.”
He thought of everything. “Sounds perfect.”
I stepped out from the bedroom, feeling strangely nervous. Jordan turned from the window, and our eyes met across the room. He walked toward me, giving me a chance to take him in. Dressed in a silver-gray suit that clung to his shoulders and suited his coloring, he was handsome. His hair was brushed to gleaming, and his tie matched his green eyes. He stopped in front of me, lifting my hands and kissing them.
“You are beautiful.” He grinned widely. “And we match.”
I had to laugh. My green dress shot with strands of silver went perfectly with his suit, as if we had coordinated.
Jordan stepped back and twirled his finger. “Let me see.”
Feeling like a teenager, I turned in a circle, my full skirt curling around my knees. Jordan shook his head. “You are so sexy, Sandy. Elegant, beautiful, and so, so… sensual. It boggles my mind.”
My blush threatened. “Thank you.”
He crooked his arm. “May I take you to dinner?”
I slipped my arm through his. “Yes.”
A few hours later, I sat back with a groan. “I am so full.”
Jordan topped up our wine. “It was an amazing meal.”
“Amazing,” I agreed, then giggled. “So is this wine. I think I might be a little drunk.”
“I think we both are.”
The evening had been wonderful. The ambiance of the restaurant, Jordan’s company, our conversation—everything.
“You are the perfect date.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Perfect?”
I leaned forward, stroking my finger along his hand. He had strong hands. Large, capable of performing the most manual of tasks or touching me with the gentlest of caresses. “I can talk to you about anything. You never judge me.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I’m interested in anything you want to tell me, Sandy. I feel the same way about you. I enjoy our conversations.”
“You make me feel safe.”
He flipped his hand up and encased mine. “You are safe with me.”
“It’s