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She cocked her head and let the heart and soul of her surroundings settle into her. Beautiful squares, each with their own personality, where children played and lovers strolled. The historic homes that whispered stories of elegant parties and turbulent times.
“I haven’t even been here twelve hours, but yes.”
“Did you know that ‘Jingle Bells’ was written in Savannah?”
“No.” She laughed, grateful that he didn’t resent her for speaking her mind, and pounced on the change of subject. “Wait, let me think about this for a second. Doesn’t the song start with, ‘Dashing through the snow’?”
“And you’re wondering where the snow is, right?” Simon gestured at the grass and trees surrounding them. “The song was written by a Massachusetts native by the name of James Pierpont. His brother was a pastor here in Savannah back in the 1850s.”
“What a fabulous tour guide you are,” she teased, bumping against his side. “Why ever did you leave Savannah? You could have made a fortune telling that story to tourists.”
“You know, if being a lawyer doesn’t work out, you could always become a stand-up comedian.” He bumped back, making her laugh.
Their stroll had carried them in a circle back toward the Holcroft home. Caroline recognized the stately red brick front and the marble portico. Without realizing it, she shortened her stride. Simon noticed the change in pace and slowed them down further. It was like walking through deep beach sand, each step forward a struggle. Halfway up the driveway, Simon stopped and turned her toward him. Caroline could feel his intense focus on her face, but she was too afraid of what he might see if she met his eyes.
“Listen, Caroline, about tonight.”
The heat of his hand against hers made her attention wander to other areas she’d like him to touch her. Already her limbs threatened to liquefy. If she didn’t stop indulging her overactive imagination, he would discover her wretched weakness for him.
“Yes?” Thank goodness she sounded less shaky than she felt. She exhaled softly and wrapped her fingers around the edges of his coat for stability as the spicy male scent of him swamped her senses.
“I haven’t been able to get the idea of sharing a bed with you out of my mind all evening.” He spoke with little inflection.
“Really?” Sheesh, did she have to sound so hopeful? Did he feel a similar tug of attraction for her? His next words dashed her spirits.
“You don’t think I can tell you’re dreading having to share a bed with me?”
“Was I so obvious?” Yes, she was dreading it, but not for the reasons he thought. What a fool she was to be disappointed that the only thing bothering him was her comfort level.
“I’m sorry my mother put us in the same room. If I had any idea that my relatives would show up and take over the house I wouldn’t have proposed this crazy plan.”
She forced a laugh and let go of his coat, taking a much needed step backward to clear her head. “Oh, so now it’s a crazy plan?”
“It’s always been a crazy plan. What was I thinking?” Simon raked his fingers into his hair and looked heavenward.
&
nbsp; “You mentioned something about keeping your future sister-in-law off your back so you could have a peaceful Christmas.” It helped to remind herself why he’d brought her. Stop fantasizing about what can never be.
“That’s right.” He smiled down at her, oblivious to her disappointment and self-recrimination.
She summoned up a matching smile. “We’ll just make the best of it.”
“That we will.”
* * *
Simon suspected she was trying to put a good spin on their predicament, and he appreciated her brave front. If the tables had been turned and he’d been in her shoes, he wasn’t sure he would have been so agreeable.
“This is such a beautiful night. I could walk for miles.” She grinned sheepishly at him. “This is usually the only time I have to study. I’ll probably be up half the night.”
Simon cursed silently at the provocative pictures dancing through his mind. Knowing that she wasn’t trying to be suggestive only made it worse. Not one of the women that he dated in Atlanta would have blushed if he’d kissed their palm. They would have sunk their fingernails into his back and pressed themselves into his arms. He was enjoying his sensual discovery of what perturbed Caroline.
“There’s always more Scrabble,” he offered.
She peered up at him through her lashes. “You’re terrible at it. Maybe we should try something easier, like Go Fish.”
“Crazy Eights? Kings in the Corner?” The repartee helped dispel some of the tension knotting his gut.
