Night Scents (42 page)
He smiled, watching her mouth as she sipped her champagne.
"I'm not sure I covered up my bruises too well," she said.
"You don't have to cover up anything." His voice was husky, his heart hammering. He set down his glass, took hers and set it down, too, and held her by the elbows. "And never a bruise, Piper. Never."
"Clate—"
"As for my life here—" He looked around the beautiful room, acknowledged a tug of pride at what he'd accomplished; then he looked back at her. "It's changing. It
has
changed. I've got good people I trust working for me. I don't need to be here on a day-today basis. I don't want to be. I'm not saying I'm surrendering all control—"
"Oh, never."
"Then again, I might just sell the whole damned company. I have options now I didn't see before. But I'm in no rush. I'd like to take some time to restore my house on Cape Cod and—" He stopped, noticing that Piper was shaking her head. "What?"
"We're moving the Frye house."
"We?"
"The town. We held a meeting last night after you left. The historical society wants to move it onto a lot they have near the cove and restore it. They've been looking for just such a project." She smiled. "We're all very excited."
"That's all well and good, but
we
don't own the Frye house. I do."
She waved a hand in dismissal. "You and this me and mine stuff. If you're going to make a place for yourself on Cape Cod, you've got to understand a few things—"
"Piper, do you have any idea—"
"I thought we could build our own house. You being a builder and all."
He narrowed his eyes on her. Their own house.
"With proper attention to the past, of course, but I do want plenty of outlets and at least a couple of tall ceilings and big windows. I like light."
"Outlets, tall ceilings, big windows. That's it?"
She shrugged. "I'm not as in to a fireplace in every room as I was a week or two ago. I figure I'll keep my house, use it as a showcase for my students and my business. I'm thinking of doing a book, and maybe a cable TV show. I've had a few inquiries over the years. I think one of them might have been based in Nashville."
"You've been doing a lot of thinking in the past few days."
"Comes from having your house burned down, your head nearly bashed in, and being around you Type As," she allowed. "What about you?"
He moved in closer. "I've been visiting my father and my little brother and sister. They're good kids, Piper."
The lightheartedness went out of her eyes, and he could see that she knew, understood, what he'd done. And why. "And your father?"
"He's a good man. Under it all, once he got sober and stayed sober, he was a good man. He's good to Sammy and Miranda. They adore him."
"I'm glad you went," she said softly. "I don't know if I'd have had the courage."
He smiled. "You gave me the courage, Piper. Loving you did."
Her eyes widened, and she bit down on her lower lip. "Clate—"
"I do love you, you know. I think I have since the moment I caught you in your aunt's crazy garden at four in the morning."
"Not before?"
He laughed. "I hadn't met you before."
She grinned, a glint of mischief in her dark green eyes. "So?"
"So—" He breathed in. "It's going to be like this, isn't it?"
"Yep. Forever." She stretched sexily, the glint still there. Then it vanished, as abruptly as it had appeared, and she said, "I think I've loved you my whole life, Clate. Before we even met. Long before."
Another step closer, so that he could smell whatever herbal concoction she'd been bathing in, so he could breathe in the scent of her. "Tell me, were you planning to spend the night here?"
"I've no objection, unless you have a better suggestion."
"I have a place on the river."
"Tall fence, big dogs."
"And tall ceilings and big windows." He slid his arms around her, kissed her neck. "How long have you been in that dress?"
"An hour."
"Long enough, don't you think?"
"I want to meet your dogs," she murmured as his mouth found hers.
"You will," he said, tasting her, loving her, "but not in this dress."
You'll take care of it?" With pleasure."
***THE END***
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