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“Unless there’s someone else hanging around here I don’t know about?”
“Just the body buried under the cottage. Any preferences for how I—er—distract you, or am I allowed to use my initiative?”
“Whatever works for you, but it’s only fair to warn you that taking my mind off the crap in my life is going to be a challenge.”
He put his glass down.
“You don’t have to stop drinking, Brodie.”
“I might need both hands.”
Laid by the Laird.
And now she’d stopped thinking about her mother and was thinking about sex.
“Stand up.” He took her glass from her and tugged her to her feet.
“What are we—” The wine had made her head a little fuzzy and she swayed a little as he tugged her into her coat. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going on a starlight walk.”
“Why? So you don’t feel you’ve lied to your mother?”
“No. Because I think you’ll like it.”
“What I like,” she said, “is being in the warm.” With him. Chatting like this. It was effortless.
“Short walk.” He opened the cottage door, and she whimpered as the cold air slapped her in the face.
“Brodie—”
“A few steps. I want to show you something.” He pulled the door shut and took her hand. “It’ll be worth it, trust me. Close your eyes.”
“You’re kidding. It’s dark, snowy, and you want me to close my eyes. That requires a level of trust I don’t even give to people I’ve known for years.”
“That’s outer Samantha talking. Shut her up. I’ve got you.”
A warm feeling spread through her insides. If only.
Oh, what was wrong with her? This was real life, not one of her novels.
She closed her eyes, wondering why she was going along with this. “I feel compelled to point out that I won’t be able to see the stars with my eyes shut.”
/> “Stop talking. Listen.”
She heard the crunch of their feet breaking through the thin crust of undisturbed snow. The occasional soft thud as branches shook off their winter load and snow met more snow. She heard her own breathing, and the beat of her heart. Could he hear that? He had to be able to hear it, surely.
She walked gingerly, gripping his hand tightly, terrified of slipping. “I don’t hear a thing.”
“Precisely.” He urged her forward, and they walked for about five minutes and then he stopped.
“Can I open my eyes now?”
“Not yet.”
“That is the last time I ever tell you to distract me.”
“Okay, stop here. Tilt your head back.”
