He stopped short. Reality definitely beat the hell out of memories—and she wasn’t even nak*d.
Eloisa stepped into the kitchen barefoot, wearing a simple blue sundress. The flowing lines clung subtly to her curves, and her skin glowed warm and pink from the shower. Her black hair was wet and pulled back in her signature ponytail, exposing her neck. He’d seen her arousal earlier when he’d hung up the phone and he could probably persuade her now….
But he didn’t want to win in some all-out seduction. He wanted her to come to him.
Eloisa took the cup from his hand carefully, so carefully their fingers didn’t even brush. “Did you get your paperwork?”
“Yes, I did.” His next job didn’t begin for another thirteen days. Most times, he would have headed out early. He was about to tell her about the nineteenth-century Peruvian hacienda he’d been hired to renovate and expand into a resort.
Then remembered she’d only asked because she thought he was contacting his attorney about the divorce.
She blew air across the top of the cup, watching him through upswept lashes. “I don’t have much for breakfast, just some granola bars or toast and whatever’s in the fruit basket. You’re welcome to what’s here.”
If only she meant that the way he wanted her to. “I can feed myself.”
“Good then.” She nodded. “Tell me more about your job.”
Hey, wait. “But I don’t have one, remember? I’m just a lazy playboy.”
She lowered her cup, genuine contrition lighting eyes as dark as her coffee. “I was wrong to make that assumption. I genuinely want to hear now.”
He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be in the hot seat, and definitely didn’t know what had brought her to this about-face from pushing him away to shooting the breeze together. “Don’t you have to get to work or help your sister with wedding plans?”
“Audrey’s busy today, and I have a half hour before I have to leave for the library.”
“I’ll let the chauffeur know.”
“No need.” Turning away, she cradled her mug in both hands and walked to the sofa, her h*ps swaying gently, loose folds of the dress swishing a hypnotic follow me. “My sister’s fiancé took care of returning my car. She already texted me that it’s out in the parking lot.”
“Then you’re all set.” He watched her place her coffee on the end table.
She pulled his blanket from the sofa and began to fold. “Tell me about your job.”
He set his mug beside hers and reached for the end of the quilt trailing the ground. “What do you want to know?”
“Why do you hang around historic sites rather than slick new buildings?” She came closer, nearly chest to chest, and met his hands.
His eyes held hers and he considered kissing her right then and there, but he was determined for her to close that last gap. He knelt to sweep up the ends of the blanket and stood again. “I’m a history buff, always have been even when I was a kid, and my family traveled overseas a good bit.”
Finishing the final fold, she clasped the quilt to her chest and sat on the sofa. “Tell me more.”
She hadn’t taken the chair this time and he wasn’t missing the chance to get a little closer.
Jonah swept aside a couple of froufrou decorative pillows and sat beside her, keeping space between them. For now. “I’m an architect. I specialize in historic landmarks.”
“That’s why you were in Spain last year.” She sagged back, her face relaxing into a smile for the first time since he’d seen her last night. “But you were also a student, right?”
He shifted uncomfortably. Couldn’t he just give her a résumé? “I finished my dissertation.”
“You completed your PhD? I’m impressed.”
He winced. He hadn’t shared that with her to wow her. He preferred not to talk about himself at all. “I enjoy the subject matter.” He shrugged offhandedly. “I had the luxury of not worrying about school loans.”
“But you were also in Spain in a more official capacity?”
“Yes, I was.” What did she hope to accomplish by grilling him?
“Why did you keep it a secret?”
Was this a trap? “I didn’t keep anything a secret.”
He just didn’t feel the need to relay everything to everyone.
“You’re playing with words.” She leaned closer, her shower-fresh scent, the tropical perfume of her shampoo, teasing him. “You can’t blame me for making assumptions when you won’t share. Well, tell me now. What else were you doing there?”
To hell with figuring out motives or playing games. He had her here. Talking to him. Not running. If he had to scavenge chitchat to make headway with her, then fine. Might as well dish up some information about his past. “When I turned eighteen, I decided I didn’t want to live off my family. While I was in college, I started flipping houses.”
“You worked construction in college?” She set aside the quilt and reached for her coffee.
Good. He had her relaxing bit by bit. “Is there something wrong with that?”
She paused midsip. “Of course not. I just… Okay, I made assumptions about your college years.”
“I didn’t have time for the frat-boy scene, princess.” He’d worked his ass off, and considered the time well spent as it gave him real-world experience once he’d graduated. “So I flipped houses, made investments then took things to another level by underwriting renovations of historic manor homes and castles. I made more investments.” He shrugged. “And here I am.”
“What about your family’s influence in world politics? What about your inheritance?”
Some of the women in his life had been sorely disappointed to hear about his lack of interest in being a part of the political world his family inhabited. “What about it?”
“Do you just leave the money sitting around?”
“Hell, no. I invest it. I expect to leave more for my kids.”
“You want children?” She averted her eyes, setting her mug down.
“Damn straight, I do. A half dozen or so.”
She pushed to her feet abruptly, backing away, nearly stumbling over her bare feet. Eloisa grabbed the chair for balance. “I need to finish getting ready for work.”
What the hell had caused her quick turnaround? He’d been sure he was making headway and suddenly she was checking her watch, shoving on her shoes and scooping up her purse.
Maybe he’d hit a snag there by pushing too hard, too fast. But he wasn’t one to admit defeat. It was all about building on the progress he’d made, one brick at a time. He watched her rush around the town house, gathering herself on her way out the door. And as she turned to wave goodbye, he realized.
She’d put on lip gloss.
He thought back to the evening before. She’d been stunning, silhouetted against the waterside, wind rippling her dress and lifting her hair. She had an unstated style and innate grace that proclaimed her timeless beauty regardless of what she wore.
And he was damn sure she hadn’t worn makeup last night or a year ago. Yet for some reason, she’d slicked on gloss today. Sure, it was a minor detail, but he found himself curious about every detail surrounding the woman he’d married.
They’d made a decent start in getting to know each other better today. Although they’d mostly talked about his job. And now that he thought about it, he didn’t know much about her career since she’d transitioned from being a student.
If he wanted to get closer to Eloisa, perhaps it was time to learn a little more about her workplace.
Six
Eloisa perched on the second-to-top step of the rolling ladder, replacing two copies of The Scarlet Letter. They’d been returned by a couple of high schoolers who’d lost their classroom edition and had to check it out from the library in a panic before the test. And while work usually calmed her, channeling peace through the quiet and rows of books… Today the familiar environment fell short of its normally calming effect.
She placed the blame squarely on her husband. Having Jonah show up in her life again so unexpectedly was unsettling on too many levels. No wonder she was having trouble finding her footing. She’d contacted her attorney and it appeared Jonah’s claim was correct. The divorce hadn’t gone through after all. Her lawyer had received the paperwork just this morning, although he vowed he had no idea how Jonah had learned of her Medina roots.
The lawyer had gone on to reassure her he would look into it further. In fact, he planned to go straight to the source and speak with her father and brothers directly. If they didn’t have the information, they would need to be warned, as well.
She aligned the books and started back down the ladder. A hand clamped her calf. Gasping, she grabbed the railings to keep from pitching over backward. She looked down fast—
“Jonah,” she whispered, her world righting and narrowing to just him, “you scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry about that. Wouldn’t want you to fall.” He kept his hand on her leg.
Eloisa continued down, his hand naturally sliding up for an inch, and another. Her heart triple-timed as she wondered how long he would keep up this game.
She descended another step.
His hand fell away. The heat of his palm remained.
Soft chitchat sounded from a couple of rows over, the air conditioner nearly as loud as the conversation. Otherwise, this section of the library was pretty much deserted this morning.
Eloisa gripped a shelf since the floor felt a little wobbly. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to take you out. Unless you have to do something with your sister’s wedding plans, in which case, I’m here to supply lunch.” He gripped the shelf just beside her, his body blocking the rest of the row from sight and creating a quiet—intimate—haven.
A lunch date? God, that sounded fun and wonderful and more than a little impulsively romantic. So unwise if she wanted to keep her balance while finding out what made Jonah Landis tick. “I already bought a sandwich on my way in.”
“Okay, then. Another time.” He looked past her, then over his shoulder, a broad shoulder mouthwateringly encased in his black polo shirt. “Mind if I have a tour of the place before I leave?”
Her mouth went dry at the thought of more time with him. She eyed the water fountain. “It’s a public library. As in open. To the public. Like you.”
He traced down the binding of a misplaced Dickens book. “I was hoping for my own personal tour guide. I’m partial to sexy brunette librarians who wear their long hair slicked back in a ponytail. And if she had exotic brown eyes with—”
“I get the picture, you flirt.” She held up her hand and stifled a laugh. “You want a tour?” She pulled A Tale of Two Cities from the shelf and tucked it under her arm. “Of a library?”
“I want a tour of your library. You saw my workplace in Spain.” He propped a foot on the bottom step of the ladder. “Now I want to see yours.”