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He reined in the urge to kiss all thought of teasing him right out of her mind. It seemed every time he turned around, he came up with another excuse to take her hand, touch her back, slide his arm around her waist and kiss her soft lips. She had bewitched him.
“No?” She sipped her coffee, eyes sparkling at him over the rim. “You could have taken me to any restaurant in Manhattan, but instead you brought me here. I think you want me to know every little detail about you.”
Damned if she wasn’t right. And here was the funny part. She had no idea that she’d just hit a bull’s-eye. She thought she was poking fun at him when in fact, he’d just presented her with a tour guide to his past.
“No restaurant can compare to Mrs. Myott’s waffles.”
Lines appeared at the corners of the older woman’s eyes as her expression softened. Nowhere near a real smile for the average person, but positively beaming for his former nanny.
While Mrs. Myott served up hot waffles and her delicious strawberry preserves, she filled Elizabeth in on some of the more entertaining stories from his childhood.
“Your poor tutor.” The laughter in Elizabeth’s velvet blue eyes belied her sympathetic tone. “What if he’d had a heart attack or something?”
“He was lying to my mother. I wouldn’t care if he had.” The exploding spring mechanism that Roark had placed beneath his tutor’s coffee cup had dumped the hot contents into the man’s lap. The way he’d gone after Roark had shown his true colors and not the polite face he presented to Roark’s mom.
“You could have found a better way to convince your mother he was abusive.”
“Yes, but none would have been as much fun.”
The women exchanged a look. Their non-verbal communication was Roark’s cue to get Elizabeth out of there. If they stayed much longer, there’d be no mystery left. And he needed to keep her intrigued with him. For a little while longer, anyway.
“I need to grab a couple books from Mom’s library and then I’ll take you home.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth smiled at Mrs. Myott. “Are you sure I can’t help you with the dishes?”
“No need. This darling young man renovated a few years ago and I have top-of-the-line everything. It’ll take me a second or two to clean up.”
While Roark located the books he wanted, Elizabeth strolled up and down the hallway that ran from the gallery to the master bedroom. Seven feet wide and sixty feet long, the walls held some of the incredible artwork his mother had collected over the years.
“I could stare at these all day,” she said when he rejoined her. “It’s like living in a museum.” She shook her head. “And yet, it’s your home.”
“My mother’s home. I live in a loft in Soho, remember?”
“Why don’t you move some of these there? Your walls could use some brightening.”
“I’m not home enough. And your comment about a museum makes me think I should loan some of these out.” Something he’d said had lost her. Roark felt her pull into herself. The camaraderie of these past few hours vanished as if it had never been.
“I imagine quite a few museums would be thrilled to display them.”
Roark caught her arm as she turned to go and set his fingers beneath her chin to tip her face upward. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But she evaded his gaze. “I have an event tonight. I should get home and go over my preparations to make sure everything will run smoothly.”
“Will you come over afterwards?”
She lifted her chin from his grasp. “It’ll be late.”
“I’ll give you a key. You can wake me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “A key to your loft? Why?”
“I should think it was obvious. We’re engaged. You should feel free to come and go.”
“Last night…” She stopped talking and rolled her lips inward. Her fingers knitted together in front of her. “I’m not sure I understand what’s going on.”
“Then let me make it perfectly clear. Last night was amazing. I think you felt it, too. We have incredible chemistry. I want to explore it a whole lot further.”
“I don’t know. When I agreed to help you out, it was supposed to be a simple charade. Uncomplicated by anything physical.”
