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“Swimming butt naked.”
He grins. “Ah, you remembered that, huh?”
“How could I forget? That visual will forever remain etched in my mind.”
Essex pops the cork on the wine bottle and pours a half glass for me, then one for himself. I take a sip. “Mmm, this is so good.”
“It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon. I figured it would go good with the steak.”
“Do you have a wine cellar in this place?”
“No, but I do have a collection. I only collect about ten bottles at a time. When I finish them all, I collect more.”
“So, you’re a wine connoisseur.”
“In social settings, yes, although sometimes I do come out here and drink a glass or two alone.”
“That’s interesting.”
“What is?”
“With a place like this, one would think you’d never be alone.”
“But I am. It’s just me, and all of this.” He takes a sip of wine, but he doesn’t seem proud of his house and his lot in life. He’s blasé about it – almost melancholic like it doesn’t bring him any kind of satisfaction.
I wasn’t going to read into it or say anything about it at first, but I can’t help myself. When you’re Essex DePaul and you have the world at your fingertips, what is there to be miserable about? I say, “You don’t sound too happy about that?”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“Really?” I ask.
“No.”
“I don’t understand. You haveeverything. You got the cars—one of which I’m sure costs a million or better—this beautiful house, chefs, housekeepers…and this view—gosh, it’s breathtaking.”
“So are you, Tessie.You’rebreathtaking. I don’t have you.”
A sensation crawls into my midsection and forces me to shift positions in my chair. All of a sudden, my throat is dry. I can’t tell if he’s running game on me, or if he’s being sincere. My mind tells me he has what it takes to woo just about any woman the same way he’s wooing me. My heart tells me he’s sincere. That there’s a true connection between us that I have not been able to explain and so therefore I’ve been writing it off. I can’t do that this time. It’s – he’s – staring me right in the face.
Playfully, I say, “Stop,” but my face is tight with embarrassment.
“Stop what? Telling the truth?”
How can a man touch you with his eyes? That’s what he’s doing to me right now. It has my entire body quivering like it’s cold out here. I can’t even stop myself. I try when I disconnect my gaze from his, and while that helps, it doesn’t eliminate the havoc he’s wreaking on my nerves.
The chef brings over our plates. Essex thanks him and sends him on his way. Now it’s just us here. That thought has a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.
“Are you comfortable?” he inquires, probably because I look like I’m out of my element. And I am. I’m so out of my element, I don’t do this – we’re not even dating and I showed up at his house because he asked me to. It’s dad’s fault for making me feel like I haven’t been living. So here I am. Living. And nervous. And…
Girl, drink some wine and get over it already.
I pick up the glass, gulp it down and look up at Essex. His brows raise.
“Oh, yeah. I’m all right.”
“Then, eat.”
I will when my blood starts flowing like it should – like it was before I came over here.
