As Carson’s truck turned into the magnolia-lined driveway, Sadie rested the soles of her bare feet on his dashboard, breathing in the fresh air from the passenger-side window she’d just opened. For some reason, she felt completely relaxed, had even traded her heels for sandals, her jeans for shorts, and her typical business jacket for a girly T-shirt when Carson stopped by her hotel room for her to pick up some clothes for the weekend.
He’d mentioned his home in the College Park area several times. She smiled when the driveway curved to the left, the trees opening up and revealing a two-story house with a wraparound porch on the bottom and a smaller one on the second floor. The main entryway consisted of two sets of intricately patterned beveled-glass French doors with black-shuttered picture windows on either side. Antique copper tubs filled with blooming roses lined the walkway to the stairs leading up to the porch.
Carson parked in front of a detached four-car garage, climbed out of his truck, then walked around to the passenger’s side and opened her door.
“The property is amazing,” she said, getting out of the truck.
“Thanks, Kitty Kat. Wait until you see the gardens and the kitchen.”
Her stomach protested as she started to follow him around the side of the house. Carson stopped and grinned.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted, cupping her stomach. “Orange juice and a granola bar doesn’t qualify as a meal.”
Carson looked at his watch. “It’s four o’clock. That’s all you’ve eaten today?”
She nodded.
“You know better than that.” Carson slipped his arm around her waist, urging her to turn around.
They walked back to the front entrance and climbed the three steps to the porch.
Sadie admired the wicker furniture, a half dozen rocking chairs and three loveseats with matching footstools. On the far end was a two-man hammock. A dozen ceiling fans were on, providing some relief from the afternoon heat.
The front doors opened. “Sweet Jesus,” a woman said.
“Tamera?” Sadie couldn’t believe it.
Tamera smiled and opened her arms wide. “Give an old woman a hug!”
Sadie did just that, genuinely happy to see her. “It’s been so long.”
Tamera pulled back so she could look Sadie in the eyes. “Time has been kind to you.”
Sadie’s cheeks heated. “Thank you, Tamera. You haven’t changed a bit.”
Tamera shook her head. “Twenty pounds in seven years says different.” She gazed at Carson. “His fault, of course. Ever cook for a football team?”
Carson laughed and threw his hands up. “Cook doesn’t mean eat.”
Tamera chuckled. “Have you ever met a Southern woman who doesn’t like to sample what she cooks?”
“Never,” Carson answered.
“That’s right,” Tamera confirmed. “Now move out of the way so I can get this pretty lady out of the heat.”
Sadie followed Tamera inside. The spacious foyer featured a stairway and what Sadie guessed was the original tin-tiled ceiling. The tiles matched the intricate diamond design on the beveled French doors. Smiling, she stepped closer to the nearest wall to get a better look of a series of framed photographs—surprised to see several that included her.
Memories flooded her mind as she gazed at faces she hadn’t seen in so long. A shot outside the school in front of the buses before the team left for an away game. Another group picture at the lake. But the one that really made her heart skip a beat was from their Disney-themed junior prom. Carson and Sadie had reenacted the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp.
She swallowed back the raw emotions from the shock of knowing the same photograph was hanging in her home—a prized moment she never wanted to forget.
The heat of Carson’s body behind her made her shiver. “What’s wrong, Kitty Kat?” he whispered close to her ear, his hot breath on her neck making her body sizzle with desire.
“Nothing,” she lied.
“Did you think I’d ever really let you go?”
Turning around, she gazed up at him, gauging his sincerity. The headlines surely showed he’d more than let her go. How many women had she seen him with over the last seven years? Twenty? Thirty? All supermodel types who likely wanted to benefit from his fame or were after his fortune. “I don’t know, Carson. Didn’t you?” She arched a brow, interested in hearing what he’d say. Would he make excuses? Feed her the usual line most men used—none of them meant anything? After all, she’d only had two lovers since they’d broken up.
Before Carson could answer, Tamera coughed politely, obviously reminding them that they weren’t alone. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she announced before trotting away.
“She’s amazing,” Sadie said. “I can’t believe she’s here.”
“Try telling Tamera no. She’s already earned a full retirement and should be passing the time on a beach in Hawaii or jet setting around Europe. Instead, she wants to be here with me. I offered to hire a maid and she told me she wouldn’t let a stranger work in our house.”
“You’re lucky to have her.”
“I know,” Carson said. “And I’m lucky to have you, too.”
Their gazes locked, and Sadie struggled to take a steady breath.
“You mean the world to me.” Carson slanted his mouth over hers, stealing a kiss.
As he pulled back, Sadie closed her eyes. Years of emotional and physical depravation had made her hungry for more than Tamera’s cooking. “Carson,” she whispered, staring at him.
“You okay?”
“I’ve missed you so much.” In all honesty, she couldn’t accurately describe what she was feeling.
“It will all be okay, Kitty Kat,” he assured her. “There’s no pressure here. I want you happy and comfortable. Let me give you a tour before dinner. We can grab your bag after.”
“Did you decorate this place?”
“Most of it,” he said. “Mom and Tamera helped with the antiques, and some were included with the house.”
Carson escorted her through another set of French doors that opened into a sunny room with a cove ceiling. A padded seat ran the length of six windows—the perfect place to spend an afternoon reading a book. Candles decorated the fireplace mantel, and the mahogany dining room set must have been from the eighteenth century.
“Elegant,” she commented, impressed with Carson’s taste. “The windows are my favorite thing about this house.”
“That’s what caught my eye,” he said. “The natural light.”
She’d always wanted a home with lots of windows and wood floors.
He showed her the living room next, then his office, den, and kitchen, before she followed him upstairs. The landing overlooked the first floor and had a sitting area with more windows. The master suite was on one side of the landing, the remaining bedrooms on the other.
Carson’s suite was done in bold gold with white trim, the theme carried over to his study and bathroom.
“If I lived here…” she started.
“You’d never leave?” he finished for her, that cocky grin deserving a kiss.
Choosing to ignore his innuendo, she continued to explore. The balcony gave her a perfect view of the gardens. “Beautiful,” she said.
Carson joined her outside. “Thanks, Kitty Kat.”
“Your walk-in closet is bigger than my condo,” she teased.
“Maybe you need more square footage. If I remember correctly, you had enough clothes to fill two bedrooms.”
“My second bedroom is a closet.”
He laughed.
“I like my neighborhood and the community swimming pool.”
“Don’t you miss home?”
She looked in his direction. “Sometimes.”
“South Carolina? What’s it got over Alabama?”
You don’t live there would be the candid answer. But he wasn’t the only reason she’d left. Growing up poor in a small town made a lasting impression on her. Some people accused her of dating Carson because he had money. Worse yet, they accused her father of faking his disability so he didn’t have to work anymore.
“My job,” she said, giving the safest reply.
He nodded. “You enjoy what you do?”
“I like helping people turn their lives and businesses around.”
“Why not do it here?”
She shrugged, knowing he was testing her. “Why’d you stay?”
Carson clenched his jaw. “Let’s save that story for another day,” he suggested. “I bet dinner is ready.”
She licked her lips thinking about Tamera’s cooking. Today had been full of surprises—like making love on her desk and agreeing to spend a few days at Carson’s place. Eating a home-cooked meal prepared by one of the best cooks she’d ever met was the cherry on top. “Does she still make that sweet cornbread?”
“And that black-eyed peas recipe with bacon.”
Sadie rushed for the door. “Try to stop me,” she challenged him, hitting the stairs with a smile plastered on her face.