Page 9 of Say Yes

When he made love to Sara, it had to be because she wanted him as much he wanted her, which was one hell of a lot. Her confidence was a bit low now, and she was obviously gun-shy about getting involved with anyone again. But he could be patient. Being with Sara would be worth the extra effort.

Whispering, because she was still pressed close, her lips nearly touching his, he asked, “Where do you keep the candles and matches?”

“In the cookie jar.”

“Ah. Of course. Where else would they be?”

Sara straightened away from him, and he could imagine her fussing with her uncontrollable hair, her nervous hands busy. She moved toward the counter and he heard the clink of a glass jar. “I keep them here because the drawers are all full and…Well, I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just couldn’t quite bring myself to put my panties in the cookie jar.”

“I do understand.”

She went still, then asked with a touch of renewed suspicion, “Are you laughing at me again, Gavin?”

He tried to make himself sound appalled. “I’ve never laughed at you.”

“Hah!”

He ignored that. It was obvious he’d have his work cut out for him. “Find a corkscrew, too, and we can take the wine to the other room and get comfortable.” He felt her hesitation before she began opening cabinets and rustling through drawers. Very cautiously, she handed him two glasses in the dark, then took his arm to lead the way. It was an unnecessary measure on her part. He knew this house as well as she did, knew exactly where the family room was. And the master bedroom. But he would never refuse her touch, no matter how platonic.

He hadn’t been inside much since she’d moved in, though, and he had no concept of the placement of furniture, what little there was. She led him to a couch, then sat beside him.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you a better seat, but the sofa is it.” She struck a match, then held it to the candle.

Gavin looked around the room. There was a portable television sitting on a crate, the sofa arranged against the back wall, and one end table next to it with a lamp. The oak moldings along the floor took on a soft sheen in the candlelight. So did Sara.

She turned toward him, her mouth open to speak, and caught him staring. There was a moment of complete stillness, their gazes locked, and then she jerked to her feet, flustered. “I forgot to get anything to put the candle in. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He wrapped his fingers around her narrow wrist and tugged her back into her seat. “We can use one of the glasses, and share the other.”

“But it’d be just as easy—”

“I’ve already kissed you, Sara, very thoroughly.” He kept his tone soft and quiet, his gaze holding hers. “Your tongue was in my mouth. Surely sharing a glass can’t bother you that much.”

Her eyes were huge, locked with his. “It…it’s not that.”

“Good.” He didn’t give her time to form more excuses, and he didn’t want her alone in the kitchen, building up her defenses. He opened the wine and filled the glass, then handed it to her. “Here’s to your narrow miss at unhappiness, and my escape from monotony.”

Quiet and still, she searched his face, her brow drawn in concentration. After a few cautious sips of the wine, she handed the glass back to him. “You really aren’t at all upset with me for attacking your house?”

The question overflowed with uncertainty, and Gavin took her hand in his again, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Seeing the look on Karen’s face was worth it. You surely did impress upon her the hazards of poaching.”

She’d been a stunning sight that day, a virago with a rake, female fury at its finest. He smiled. All he really remembered feeling that day was relief, because he knew Sara would never tolerate infidelity. Ted and Karen, with their lack of morals, had provided him an unhindered chance to attain something he’d wanted very badly.

He honestly couldn’t say he regretted the incident, but it prodded him like a sore tooth that Sara had been hurt. The thought of her mooning over another man filled him with territorial and possessive urges that would shock a liberated woman.

Deliberately he took a large swallow of the wine, then handed the glass back to her. She needed to relax just a bit, to take down a few of those walls that kept her so rigid. He wanted Sara to be as he first remembered her—filled with unrestrained excitement and bubbling enthusiasm.

With his arm along the back of the couch, Gavin made himself comfortable, stretching out his legs and making certain his thigh pressed close to Sara’s. She was familiar with him as a friend and neighbor. He wanted her familiar with him as a man. As a lover.

She didn’t move away. When she looked at him again, he dropped his hand to her shoulder in the natural way of offering comfort.

“Quit fretting, honey. You’ve got plenty of time to find the right man for you, someone who better suits you, someone who’ll appreciate you, someone who…”

She shook her head, denying him long before he finished praising her. “No way. I went that route and it was a far cry from matrimonial nirvana. I’ve given up on the idea of marriage forever. It’s nothing but a hoax, anyway. I’ve decided to stay blessedly single. I’d rather have a pet instead of a troublesome man.”

Gavin’s heart and breath both froze. He wheezed out, “Excuse me?”

“You know. A little friendly furry pet to keep me company.”

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