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“Well, I guess we could?” I venture, though I am sure I am least half-curious what kind of interesting things a woman like Sunny would have packed in there. “I’d love to get some shots of the house from up there… on that ridge?”

Maxwell follows my gesture to the remote, sunny spot at the trees’ edge. He suppresses a small smile and finally nods.

“Yes, that does seem nice,” he murmurs.

As we walk across the lawn, I am amazed to find that it really is as velvety and spongy as it appears. Finally, I can’t take it anymore and just slide out of my ballet flats so I can feel it between my toes. It feels amazing.

Maxwell glances at me as he climbs the hill, finally breaking into a full grin.

“That’s Portuguese moss,” he informs me, as though he perfectly understands. “Feels great, right?”

It feels so great I practically want to skip up the hill, but I somehow manage to hold back as he shakes out a blanket and positions it in the sun. Remembering why I am here, I turn back to take a few pictures of the cottage with my iPad, just to make sure I do what I need to do.

Turning the iPad on its side, I try to capture the entire house in one photo. I want the house, the tree line, and at least a sliver of beautiful Lake Geneva beyond, maybe with some sails from sailboats poking over the tops of the trees. People need to get the full picture of this estate. It’s so unique that it’s going to be so hard to try to put the glory of it into words.

“Oh, dear,” I hear Maxwell mutter.

When I turn around, I piece together what he’s reacting to. He has half the picnic basket emptied onto the blanket, and it doesn’t really seem like a working lunch at all. Small bottles of expensive port, figs, grapes, three more bottles of wine, and what looks to be oysters on the half shell, packed in ice.

“That looks very…” I search for the right word.

“Subtle?” he says, cocking one sable eyebrow sarcastically.

Hmmmm, wine and oysters? I ask myself. What is she trying to say?

Maxwell twists a bar of Belgian chocolate between his fingertips. “I should apologize,” he finally sighs. “Sunny considers herself a bit of a matchmaker. She’s not usually like this.”

I reach forward and pull a whole avocado out of the basket.

“This?” I quip. “Is this supposed to be romantic?”

“I think it’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac,” he chuckles, embarrassed. “Just give it to me. I’ll pack this all up and we can head back down the hill. We don’t have to stay. I’m sorry she made you uncomfortable.”

His eyes are cast down in the shade, but I keep watching him, waiting to see if I can make heads or tails out of what he’s really feeling.

“She didn’t make me uncomfortable,” I murmur, finally. “She’s sweet. She cares about you a lot.”

Finally he looks up, dimples deepening around his smile. He lets down his guard a little bit and leans his weight on one arm as he gazes back at the cottage.

“She really does,” he agrees softly. “She’s a helluva woman. One of a kind.”

“She definitely is.”

He looks at me suddenly. His eyes soften slightly and a small smile plays at the corners of his lips.

“You are too, you know, Clarissa,” he says softly.

I can’t take my eyes off his lips. They look so inviting. He has a full smile, with a gentle curve on his upper lip that looks so tempting and gentle, I find myself leaning toward him. Before I know it, our lips meet.

To my surprise, he is warm and pliant, but also strong. He leans back toward me and I feel his hand snaking around the back of my neck. The kiss is not aggressive, but there is more behind it, like a car idling at the starting line of a race. Just one tap on the gas and…

He pulls away. His expression changes swiftly from confusion to concern.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters as he withdraws.

“No, I’m so sorry!” I object, pulling back to the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know why did that? I just thought… No really. I wasn’t thinking? Maxwell, I… Wow. I’m sorry!”

I continue to babble as I scramble to my feet, grabbing my iPad and rushing back down the hill. I did that? Who does that? Just kisses their boss out of the blue? He’s never even brushed my hand or anything! The closest thing we ever had to contact was when we first met and I touched his dick by mistake and…

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