Where the Heart Is (10 page)

Though she was incredibly curious about his boyhood, she knew he was done talking about it. Not that he'd revealed much. “The filet looks good. I've been wanting a good steak.”

“Georgia makes a great filet—you should get it. And I'll order some pinot,” he said, plucking up the wine list that was really more of a tome, given its size.

“Sounds fantastic.” She wanted to regain the fun they'd been having before the talk about his living in Tacoma. “I love that a single guy gets his own Christmas tree. Do you do that every year?”

“The weekend after Thanksgiving—not Thanksgiving weekend, that's too early—plus I'm usually wine-tasting.” He grinned. “I drive up to a tree farm and cut down my tree.”

“By yourself?”

“Once, but usually one or more of the Archers comes with me. Rob and Emily have something like four or five trees in their house, though they get the main one at a special farm with very tall trees.”

She leaned forward, intent on him. “And your tree is all decorated?”

“Of course.”

“I'd love to see it.”

His gaze turned darker, seductive. “Is that a ploy to get to my loft?”

“If you think so,” she said, lifting her shoulder and giving him a coy look. “I was pretty successful in getting you to show me your old bedroom.”

“Ha!” He laughed. “So you were. If you behave yourself during dinner, I'll consider it.”

She was enjoying this game, probably too much. She lowered her voice. “You really want me to behave?”

He set the wine list aside. His stare was positively smoldering. “Not particularly.”

Their server—David—showed up to take their order at that inopportune moment. Chloe sat back in her chair and watched Derek talk to him about wine. As she studied him—his eyes, his strong chin, his lush lips—her body heated.

After David left, Derek refocused his attention on her. “Where were we?”

“Shameless flirting.”

“Ah, yes. You behave and I'll take you back to my loft to look at my . . .” he arched a brow, “Christmas tree.”

She fixed him with her most provocative stare. “I can't wait.”

 

 

T
HE DRIVE
to Derek's loft took less than five minutes, not nearly long enough for the car to warm up inside. Derek parked in the garage beneath the building and helped Chloe out of the car. He led her to the elevator, which they took to the top floor—there were only three, the first of which housed a dentist's office, a gift shop, and a wine-tasting room and the second of which contained apartments.

The elevator emptied into a wide hallway and there were four units, one in each corner. He guided her down the corridor to his door on the right and swiftly let her inside, where it was toasty warm. “Can I take your coat?” he offered, shrugging out of his and hanging it on a hook behind the door.

She pulled off her gloves and stuck them in her purse, which she set on a console table, then turned so he could help her out of her coat. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“The tree's in there.” He pointed down the short, narrow entry hall to the main living space. She took a few steps, then threw him a backward glance that said she was very impressed.

“Your place is fantastic.” She moved into the kitchen/dining area and he followed her, his gaze lingering on her shapely legs encased in skinny jeans and incredibly sexy knee-high black boots. “I love your kitchen—all the latest stuff, I see. And very loft-y.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as she moved toward the living room.

Wide windows spanned the living room wall and in the middle of that wall stood his seven-foot tree, which still looked a bit small, given the twelve-foot ceilings.

She walked past the sectional to inspect the tree. “What's with the wolves?”

“Emily gets each of her kids an animal ornament every year. Each kid has their own specific animal: cat, dog, bear, et cetera. When I went to live with them, she started giving me wolves.” They were the oldest things on the tree. Everything else had been purchased since he'd gotten his own place because he couldn't bring himself to pull the ornaments from the attic of the house on Fifth Street.

“Why wolves?”

“Kyle and Liam started calling me the lone wolf at some point. After I'd become a regular fixture at their house—sometime in middle school, I think. They were a pack and I was the lone wolf.” But he'd never felt alone. Not until after his mom had died, and then there had seemed a small part of him that he just couldn't share, couldn't open up. And he supposed that made him a lone wolf after all.

“How wonderful to have that commemorated with these ornaments,” she said, moving around the tree. “And you're a Seahawks fan, of course.”

He relaxed, grateful to talk about football. Or anything but what might or might not be hanging on his tree. “Of course.”

“You will have to accept my Steelers commitment.”

He exhaled loudly as if he were incredibly put out. “If I must.”

She flashed him a smile. “Your place is the quintessential bachelor pad. I didn't realize you were a player.”

He couldn't keep from laughing. “In Ribbon Ridge? The whole town would be on to me in no time. Besides, players have fish tanks, which I don't have here, either.”

She turned to look at him. “What? Oh, the fish tank!” She giggled. “But you brought me here to see your tree—same difference.”

“Because you asked!” He laughed, then turned back toward the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of wine? A beer? Martini?”

“Martini, huh? This is definitely a bachelor loft.” She'd gone back to studying the tree. “I'll have whatever you're having.”

He went to the wine rack that served as the base of the sideboard in his dining room and grabbed a bottle of pinot. She'd liked the wine at dinner, and this was similar.

Before opening the bottle, he tapped his iPod in the dock on the sideboard and found an appropriate playlist. Florence and the Machine piped through the sound system as he opened the wine. He poured two glasses and joined her in the living room, where she stood beside his tree looking out at the view of Ribbon Ridge and the hills beyond.

She took the glass from him. “Thanks. This is quite a place. I can't believe it's here instead of some metropolitan location.”

“I like it. It feels like city living, but I'm still in the country. Or sort of the country anyway.”

She sipped her wine. “Best of both worlds.”

“Exactly,” he said, watching her from the corner of his eye. His lighting wasn't at full blast so it cast a romantic glow over the space, bathing her in soft luminescence. She was wearing her hair down tonight, the blond strands grazing the top of her back and framing her face with perfect angles. Her profile was strong, pretty, her lashes standing out and making her look utterly feminine.

She pivoted toward him. “I like this wine even better than what we had at dinner.”

“Same winery and vineyard, this one's just a year older. They're from one of my favorite wineries. It's only about fifteen minutes from here. I'll take you tasting there, if you like.”

“There are a ton of wineries around here. Plus the Archers' brewery. I'm surprised the valley isn't full of alcoholics.”

“Well, there
is
a nationally-renowned rehab center over in Newberg near the hospital.”

She laughed out loud. “Seriously? That's rich.”

He grinned at her. “Supply and demand, maybe?” Maybe it was the wine, but he was feeling more relaxed than he had since Saturday night. He was crazy about her, and he wanted this to work. He'd taken a huge step by agreeing to her living in the house. But right now, that seemed so unimportant. All that mattered was her, and the depth of the connection between them.

She nodded at the huge flat screen on the wall. “I see why you made the comment about the TV at the apartment—you're an aficionado. That's massive.”

“Sixty inches.” There was nothing better than a good action movie or a great football game from the comfort of your own couch. “I like being able to enjoy things at home. I guess I'm a bit of a homebody.”

“Really?” She sipped her wine and walked over behind the sectional to where a sliding glass door led out to a patio. His furniture out there was covered for the winter, but he still went out sometimes to enjoy the night air. “Nice deck.”

He walked up beside her. “I'd take you out there, but it's so cold. I do have a heater,” he gestured to the tall propane column, “but we'd still have to bundle up. And probably snuggle.”

She turned and looked up at him. “Sounds good to me. Though, I'm guessing we can snuggle just the same in here.” Her gaze turned playfully suggestive and she circled the sectional. She sat, folding her leg up underneath her, and patted the cushion.

As if he needed encouragement. He set his wineglass on the coffee table and sat close to her. She held up her glass in silent question, and he took it from her and put it beside his.

He looked at her, drinking in her beautiful face and expectant gaze, and found her far more intoxicating than the wine. He leaned forward and kissed her, bracing his right hand on the back of the couch.

She arched up into him, meeting his mouth with hers and curling her hand around his neck. It was a soft kiss, sweet. Her thumb stroked against his jaw. He mentally scored a point for shaving again before their date.

He angled his head and deepened the kiss, moving closer. She pulled her other leg up onto the couch and briefly knelt. He caressed her hip with his left hand, kneading her, then moved it up beneath the hem of her blouse to stroke the warm flesh beneath. She shivered, but he felt her lips smile.

He pulled back a little. “Ticklish?”

“Right now, yes.” She looked into his eyes. “Don't stop, though.”

He held her gaze. “Are you sure? I'm not . . . I don't do casual sex.”

Her eyes were dark and provocative in the muted light. “Me neither.” She pulled his head down for a scorching kiss. Desire flooded his veins and he pressed her back against the couch cushions. She fell back and stretched her legs out to lie down. The couch was wide enough for him to lie on his side next to her. He splayed his hand over her side before inching it across her belly.

She suckled at his mouth and tongue, driving him wild, her body moving in all the right ways. He realized her blouse had buttons and brought his hand out from beneath it to undo the top few. He moved his mouth to her jaw and skimmed his tongue and lips across her heated flesh. She felt like silk and tasted like heaven.

She tipped her head back, lifting her chin and giving him her neck in an offering he was only too eager to take. He trailed blistering kisses along her skin all the way down to the top of her bra, an ivory thing with lace and gold stitching. It looked like candy—definitely good enough to eat.
And
it unclasped in the front.

Take it slow, remember?
his mind screamed. But the rest of his body had a completely different idea. He unbuttoned her blouse entirely and spread it apart, exposing the plane of her stomach. He kissed the tops of her breasts, wanting so much more, but not wanting to rush her. Though, from the sound of her breathing punctuated with sexy little moans, he doubted that was possible. Still, he took his time cupping her through her bra before he flicked the gold clasp.

She gasped as he pushed the cups aside and slid his mouth down to the tip of one breast. Her hand tangled in his hair, holding him close.

He could feel her desire climbing by the rotation of her hips and the press of her hands against him. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her fueled his own lust. He moved to her other breast, his fingers taking over the nipple he'd just abandoned with gentle rolls and tugs. Her legs parted and she pressed up against his thigh nestled between hers. He pressed it up, seeking her hot center, giving her the pressure she seemed to crave. Her answering moan made him smile against her breast.

“Derek,” she said, sounding as breathless as he felt. “Stop.”

Dousing him with ice water wouldn't have had the same horrible effect. He closed his eyes briefly as he withdrew his leg from between hers.

But she tightened her grip on him. “No.” She smiled, looking a little shy, which he found incredibly adorable. “I don't want to stop. I just wondered where your bedroom was located. This isn't your typical loft with everything in one room so . . .”

He couldn't keep from grinning as relief poured through him.

“If that's okay?” she asked tentatively.

“It's more than okay.” He leaned down again and kissed her with heat and passion and whatever emotion was careening through him. Though he was loath to leave her, he forced himself up and offered her his hand.

She gave him a demure look that quickly became saucy as she took his hand. He led her to the bedroom, which was on the other side of a wall from the dining room. A half wall contained a pocket door so that he could close it off entirely, but that wasn't necessary tonight.