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Caleb gestured at the empty chair beside her. “I know we don’t have anything to talk about, but maybe I could get off my feet for a minute?”
She waved a hand, the movement as loose as the smile and ten times more relaxed than she’d been this morning. “Have at it.”
He climbed the three steps and took a seat. Without asking, Ellen poured him a generous glass of wine and handed it over.
Since he’d last seen her, she’d put her hair up in a knot with a Number 2 pencil stuck through it. A bunch of strands had escaped to cling to her neck. It made her look half-undone, which made him think about undoing her the rest of the way.
One direction he really didn’t need his mind to go.
He tried the wine. It was better than the sour, grape-juice-tasting Communion fare they’d served at church when he was a kid—his permanent comparison standard. “Not bad.”
She looked pointedly at his fingers, which held the glass in an awkward grip. He always worried he’d break the stems off. “I’m going to guess you’re not a wine guy.”
“Afraid not.”
“You don’t have to drink it. Camelot has enough wine guys already. I’m not trying to convert you.”
“No, I’ll drink it.” He’d drink ditch water if it gave him an excuse to sit here and talk to her.
Ellen raised one knee to balance a bare foot on the lip of the chair. In place of the skirt she’d had on earlier, she wore a pair of loose black pants that left her calves bare and pooled up on the thigh of her bent leg. He had some trouble dragging his eyes away from all that pale, smooth skin.
Tall woman. Long legs. Ellen looked pretty damn good all over.
And he was ogling her, blatantly, and at great length. Smooth.
She tugged her pants back over her knee and quirked her mouth in a way that suggested she found his attention amusing.
Everything about her was so casual tonight, it was throwing him off his game. He’d come over here prepared to do battle with Amazon Ellen, and instead he got this woman with the butter-soft body and the seductive smile. The one he’d met this morning, very briefly, before he started talking security and she’d hardened up on him.
The most intriguing woman he’d met in a long time. Fun to talk to, if you liked getting sassed. A hell of a lot of fun to look at.
Since moving home, he’d been too distracted to think much about women. When had he last been on a date? In Germany, maybe. Jesus, that would make it almost two years ago. Pretty shoddy record.
Army life and relationships didn’t mix well, and his personal life had been on hold for a long time.
Now he mentally extended the period of stasis for another few months. He had a business to build, a family to worry about. He needed to stop thinking about Ellen’s legs—hot though they were—and focus on the job. The key would be to ignore the nice unfurling buzz he was getting just from sitting here next to her.
“So how was your day?” he asked.
“Fine.”
Nothing in the way she said it made him think it was true. He prodded, “Yeah?” and got another quarter-smile out of her.
“No. It was a death march. You?”
“Pretty much covers mine, too.”
“What happened?”
He tipped his glass her way. “You go first.”
Ellen drank her wine and rested her head against the chair back, watching the clouds. The sun had sunk behind the house, but dusk was a good half hour off yet. “You don’t care about my day.”
It wasn’t unkind, the way she said it. Only matter
-of-fact.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe I do. You haven’t told me about it yet. Could be exciting.”
