Page 28 of A Man for Amanda
It was impossible not to relax, not to be charmed by his stories, flattered by his attentiveness. He did not, as so many successful men did, talk constantly of his business. As an antiques dealer he’d traveled all over the world and, throughout the meal, gave Amanda glimpses of Paris and Rome, London and Rio.
When her thoughts drifted now and again to another man, she doubled her determination to enjoy herself where she was, and with whom.
“The rosewood chiffonier in your foyer,” he commented as they lingered over coffee and dessert. “It’s a beautiful piece.”
“Thank you. It’s Regency period—I think.”
He smiled. “You think correctly. If I had run into it at an auction, I would have considered myself very fortunate.”
“My great-grandfather had it shipped over from England when he built the house.”
“Ah, the house.” William’s lips curved as he lifted his cup. “Very imposing. I half expected to see medieval maidens drifting about on the lawn.”
“Or bats swooping out of the tower.”
On a delighted laugh, he squeezed her hand. “No, but perhaps Rapunzel letting down her hair.”
The image appealed and made her smile. “We love it, and always have. Maybe the next time you visit the island you’ll stay at The Towers Retreat.”
“The Towers Retreat,” he murmured, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lips. “Where have I heard that before?”
“A projected St. James hotel?”
His eyes cleared. “Of course. I read something a few weeks ago. You don’t mean to say that your home is The Towers?”
“Yes, it is. We hope to have the retreat ready for occupancy in about a year.”
“That is fascinating. But wasn’t there some legend attached to the place? Something about ghosts and missing jewelry?”
“The Calhoun emeralds. They were my great-grandmother’s.”
With a half smile, he tilted his head. “They’re real? I thought it was just a clever publicity gimmick. Stay in a haunted house and search for missing treasure. That sort of thing.”
“No, in fact we’re not at all pleased that the whole business leaked out.” Even thinking about it annoyed her so that she began to drum her fingers on the table. “The necklace is real—was real in any event. We don’t know where it might have been hidden. In the meantime we’re forever bothered by reporters or having to chase erstwhile treasure hunters off the grounds.”
“I’m sorry. That’s very intrusive.”
“We hope to find it soon, and put an end to all the nonsense. Once renovations start, it might turn up under a floorboard.”
“Or behind the ubiquitous secret panel,” he offered with a smile and made her laugh.
“We don’t have any of those—at least that I know of.”
“Then your ancestor was remiss. A place like that deserves at least one secret panel.” He laid a hand over hers again. “Perhaps you’ll let me help you look for it... or at least let me use it as an excuse to see you again.”
“I’m sorry, but at least for the next few days I’m tied up. My sister’s getting married on Saturday.”
He smiled over their joined hands. “There’s always Sunday. I would like to see you again, Amanda. Very much.” He let the subject and her hand slip gently away.
On the drive home he kept the topics general. No pressure, Amanda thought, grateful. No arrogant assumptions or cocky grins. This was the kind of man who knew how to treat a woman with the proper respect and attention. William wouldn’t knock her to the ground and laugh in her face. He wouldn’t stalk her down like a gunslinger and fire out demands.
So why was she so let down when they stopped in front of the house and Sloan’s car was nowhere in sight? Shaking off the mood, she waited for William to come around and open her door.
“Thank you for tonight,” she told him. “It was lovely.”
“Yes, it was. And so are you.” Very gently he placed his hands on her shoulders before touching his lips to hers. The kiss was very warm, very soft—an expert caress of lips and hands. And to her disappointment, it left her completely unmoved.
“Are you really going to make me wait until Sunday to see you again?”
