Page 42 of Second Time Around
“As I recall, the poem goes downhill rapidly after that first line.”
Will thought for a minute. “‘All that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes’ isn’t so bad. But after that first stanza I can’t argue with you.”
“Byron’s more my time period than yours. The Romans didn’t have anything you could use?”
His eyes burned hotter. “Catullus is for later tonight.”
“No quoting in foreign languages.”
He smiled with a slow, sensual curve of his lips. “I’ll make sure you understand every word I’m saying.” He slid his arm around her waist. “But dinner first.”
As she scooted across the seat of the limo, his words about her being spread naked across the leather popped into her head. That made liquid heat pool low inside her.
When Will folded himself onto the seat beside her and closed the car door, the air in the dim, enclosed space seemed to vibrate with desire. But he did nothing more than take her hand, holding it on the seat between them. “I don’t want yesterday’s unpleasant moments to color tonight, so I will apologize only once for my family. It is, however, a sincere apology.”
Kyra gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I never hold people responsible for their parents.” Although as she knew all too well, others did.
He kissed the back of her hand and released it. “Another reason I like you.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a business card and pen. “Before I get distracted, will you give me the Carver Center’s phone number?”
Kyra took the card and jotted Emily’s direct line on the back of it. “You and Farr weren’t just being polite about coming to visit?”
“Why would you think that?” Will sounded almost offended.
“Because we were at a party making conversation.” When Farr had found out she worked at the Carver Center, he had surprised her by questioning her at length about its programs. Will explained that Farr was chairman of the Thalia Foundation, the charitable organization Cronus Holdings funded, and he was on the lookout for worthy new projects to support.
“Farr is always serious when money is involved,” Will said.
“Good to know.” Kyra handed the card back to Will. “Our director will be delighted to show you the facility.”
Will frowned. “You’ll join us, too.”
“Sure, but Emily is the driving force behind the center. She’s the one who can answer all your questions and tell you what the center needs.” But glee danced through her at the thought that Will wanted her on the tour.
He relaxed back against the seat, stretching out his long legs so she could see his whimsical socks. Today they were navy blue, dotted with tiny sailboats. She sucked in her breath as she wondered if he had been thinking of yesterday’s tryst on theRoyal Wave.
“That reminds me of the dog food project,” Will said, squashing her little hum of sexual speculation. “Has it been declared a success?”
“A resounding one. I’ve been warned that I may be pressed into developing more custom canine cuisine.” Kyra grinned. “Every kid thinks their dog deserves special treatment.”
He didn’t return her smile. “Won’t that add to your workload?”
“Not so much. Dog food is pretty simple stuff. The hardest part is always the budget. I’m working on a source for low-cost canned pumpkin because it turns out all the dogs would benefit from adding that to their food.”
“I can help you with that. I could even find you organic pumpkin.”
She felt herself becoming more entangled in Will’s world and knew she couldn’t agree for her own peace of mind. “That’s really nice but I have to run it by Emily. She likes to use local sources.”
“Ceres is committed to using local sources as well.” Once again she seemed to have offended him.
“Right, I know that. I meant really local, as in South Harlem.”
“Ah, I understand.” The edge of affront faded from his voice. “That makes it more of a challenge but I’ll see what I can do.”
Kyra sighed. She should have remembered that Will could not be stopped once he fixed on a goal.
“I have some ideas for other flavors in dog food for sensitive stomachs,” Will continued.
She could hear the fervor in his voice. He’d devoted serious thought to the topic. She felt a flush of pleasure that he’d focused his considerable mental resources on her problem. “Let’s hear them,” she said.
