The cab winds up the dirt and gravel drive through what looks like a forest of pines till we emerge in front of a sprawling gothic style mansion.
It’s too dark to make out much of the exterior, besides the enormous size. It could easily be mistaken for a holiday resort with the lush grass and pebbled pathways leading to mysterious destinations.
After paying the cab driver, I climb out and make my way up the chunky stone steps to find Kaden leaning against the open double doorframe frowning at his watch.
“Well,” he greets me with a stern look, “You’re not technically late.”
I meet his gaze and give him a bright smile, “I’d have been early if you hadn’t dragged your feet opening the front gate.”
“It’s an old gate,” he says defensively but there’s no missing the way his lips quirk, “Sometimes it sticks.”
When he looks at me, clearly to concede, his expression suddenly freezes as his gaze travels from my face down to my figure hugging dress and knee-high boots. His adores me slowly and as his eyes move over my body I swear I can feel it as though he’s actually touching me.
“Are you going to let me in?” I ask, mainly to break the sudden silence.
“Please,” he replies, sounding out of breath, “Come in. Thank you for coming.”
When I step into the wide foyer, I’m at once intimidated by the sheer size.
My heels echo on the polished hardwood floor and I falter, turning in place to take in the large ancient looking portraits and the wide staircase that seems to dominate the space.
“Straight ahead there’s a small drawing room,” he lays a hand on my elbow and turns me to face an open door to the right of the stairs, “We’ll discuss business first, then we can enjoy our dinner.”
The drawing room is small and cozy with plush burgundy carpet and two over-stuffed.
A line of bookshelves covers one wall and a small round wooden coffee table sits in the middle of the room. I let out a breath, feeling much more comfortable in the smaller space.
“Have some wine,” he says holding out a delicate looking flute, “I chose a dry white but if you’d prefer, I have something sweet, something fruity, something harder?”
“Dry white is fine,” I say too quickly and take the offered glass.
He signals for me to sit and I do, downing half the glass of wine and ignoring his amused smile.
“To business,” he says, taking the seat across, “Have you thought about my offer?”
I tell him that I accept his offer to be business partners and he is annoyingly unsurprised but we spend the next half an hour swapping ideas and discussing our upcoming work arrangement.
When his watch starts beeping, he presses a button and smiles at me, “That means the lasagna is almost ready. I thought we could have it with a light salad.”
“Sounds good,” I reply as my stomach growls at the thought of finally eating some real food. This last week Olivia and I had been living on toast and noodles, “Can I help with anything?”
He pours the last of the wine into our glasses and holds his up to toast, “And this marks the end of all shop talk.”
We clink glasses to agree and we both take a drink.
At the table, he swaps white wine for red, dims the glow in the kitchen and lights the thick candle sitting between us.
“This is really nice,” I say as he places a plate of lasagna in front of me, “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he replies, taking his seat, “I don’t get the chance to cook much. I usually have someone cooking for me and cooking is hardly worth the effort when it’s just me.”
I cut a small corner and take a bite, “Oh wow...”
I shut my eyes as the mixture of spices and flavors melt on my tongue.
“What’s wrong?” he says and I can hear the concern in my voice, so I wave my hand to show that nothing is wrong.
“This is possibly the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
I cut another forkful and moan again, ignoring his chuckle as he cuts into his serve.
“Who taught you how to cook? Your Mom?”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mother but that women never set foot in a kitchen, other than to refill her wine glass or to give instructions to the cook.”
I can’t imagine what that would be like.
Having somebody do everything for me seems alien.
“So who, then?” I ask, curious about this strange man who has the world at his feet and yet chooses to remain unknown, and enjoys cooking incredible food.
“The nanny mostly, when I was sixteen,” he replied.
“You had a nanny at sixteen?”
He laughs, “No, she was for my little brothers. She couldn’t have been much older than I was, maybe nineteen, and of course I had a massive crush on her.”
He looks down at his plate and the tips of his ears turn pink. I can’t help smiling when he peaks up at me.
“I found reasons to spend time with her. Mainly helping out with the boys, they were very mischievous. When I asked her if she’d teach me how to cook, she was shocked that I didn’t even know how to boil an egg.”
His expression hardens and he takes a long drink, “She might have only been a couple of years older but she’d come from a poor family in Cuba and already knew much more about the world then I ever did.”
He looks at me and his expression immediately gets lighter, “Enough about me. Tell me about you. How does a beautiful woman such as yourself get into computer science and app design?”
His charm is smooth.
“I don’t know,” I reply, forking another mouthful of creamy goodness between my lips, “I’ve always just felt so at ease with computers and programming. There wasn’t a lot to do in the small town I grew up in. I was never what you’d call popular and my Mom’s boyfriends tended to take up most of her time.”
I shrug as I remember my youth, “Back when I was fifteen, my Mom was dating this guy who made video games - he showed me some stuff and it just seemed natural. Computer language was one of the few things that made sense to me. For the record I had a massive crush on him, so that could explain why it stuck.”
Kaden’s eyes narrow on me, “Do you still see him?”
“Nope, he was about four boyfriends before Mom met Kurt, who she ended up marrying.”
His expression relaxes and he returns to his food.
The conversation flows easily as we eat.
I tell him about Olivia and her modeling career, and he tells me about his brother’s - now grown men in business together and determined to make their own way in the world. I sense frustration in his voice when he speaks about them and I get the feeling that he’d much rather they joined him in the family business.
By the time the conversation waned we’d finished off the first bottle and opened another dry white causing me to feel light-headed.
Kaden reached across the table and took my hand, interlinking our fingers and looking at them for a long time.
I frown because even though feeling our fingers interconnected like this is nice, there’s some reason why I shouldn’t be touching him.
I can’t remember why because my whole body is feeling so warm and tingly and all I want to do is lean across the table and feel my lips pressed against his.
“I want to make love to you,” he says, his eyes almost black as he stares hard into mine.
Arousal pulses through my veins and I can feel myself getting damp and my nipples pressing hard against my lacy bra.
But even so, something tickles at the back of my mind and I pull away.
“I think that would be a bad idea,” I say.
“Yes,” he agrees, “It would be a very bad idea. I nearly never mix business and pleasure.”
His gaze drops to my lips and they’re suddenly dry, so I lick them.
“Ever since I saw you at the gym I’ve been going crazy,” he continues, “I need you.”
“Really?” I look at him, surprised, “But I fell on my ass. I was all sweaty and flushed. Probably stinky….”
Stop talking!
He snorts and gives me a goofy grin, “I know. But I got so hard that night just thinking about it. When you walked into my office in that sexy suit and screw-me-heels, I had to touch you. It took all my willpower not to grab you and…”
He makes a guttural groaning sound and I know I should be shocked but the sound sends hot sweet shockwaves all the way down to my core.
“I… I should probably go,” I say, not meaning it, but know I should, “If we’re going to be business partners, we should keep it professional.”
“I agree,” he says, “I invited you here because I wanted to get to know you.”
“It seems to be more than that.”
“I thought maybe once I got to see you as a person and not just a sexy, sweaty…”
“You can leave out the sweaty part,” I reply.
He makes another groaning sound, “You’d be less of a mystery, so I wouldn’t be so curious and horny.”
I can’t help smiling, butterflies dancing in my chest, “You think I’m sexy?”
He leans closer till his mouth is less than an inch from mine.
I can feel the heat radiating from him and my lips tremble at even the thought that he might kiss me.
“I don’t just think you’re sexy, Claire,” he murmurs, “I think you’re delicious.”
His gaze meets mine and when I don’t pull away, he closes that gap that extra inch till his lips touch mine…