Page 67 of Brooke
“Are you ready for us to share the rawness of passion?”
He glanced down at her, his blue eyes both seeking and heated. She rose and slid her arms around his neck, leaning forward to press her mouth to his in a soft, tender kiss. His lips met hers, caressing them slowly, drawing her more into his warmth and his longing for her.
“I’m ready,” she whispered against his lips.
The curve of his smile delighted her heart. He stood with her in his arms and headed to the stairs. “What an incredible adventure for a mere Thursday, is it not?”
She laughed as he walked to his bedroom, but when they reached it, she laughed no more.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Brooke was humming.
To Dean, the sound was as disarming as seeing a shark fin cutting through the ocean when he was tooling in the water.
Brookeneverhummed.
She wasn’t the only one acting strange in the morning camaraderie of the kitchen as he tried to read a wine magazine at the kitchen counter. Sawyer was sketching at the end of the island, something he rarely did around them, his shoulders hunched in protective artist stance. His eyes flicked up every few seconds as his drawing pencil made a subtle scrape on his fancy paper. His mouth would swing into a smile before he hunkered down again.
What the hell was going on with them?
Then there was Madison, who was dancing at the stove with Pierre on her shoulder, her lean hips wiggling to a beat in her head. She was clearly listening to some internal soundtrack, probably a spicy Latin number judging from her dancing. Madison doubled down on Latin pop and dancing when she was nervous, but so far she seemed to be channeling it well, although she and Sawyer looked a little like twins withtheir wild black hair and thunderously serious expressions punctuated with sly smiles.
Not that he was saying anything.
Kyle was reading a newspaper on the barstool next to him, but he kept glancing up at Madison, a dopey smile touching his lips as he watched her dance. Better than have him stressing about the big D-Day dinner and reopening coming up, Dean supposed. God, Golden Boy had it bad for her, but they’d both told him to keep out of things, so he’d done exactly that.
He was just sitting here minding his own business, reading the wine magazine Jacqueline had shoved into his hand with a blazing kiss this morning before leaving for a meeting.
He swung his leg as he gazed at their motley crew. Jeez, the energy in the house had changed while he was busy with the woman of his life. Thea wasn’t even around. Probably in bed after her morning baking at Jean Luc’s. Or maybe she hadn’t baked anything because she’d been enjoying other delights. Thea was usually humming as she kneaded her bread these days.
Wait! Humming.
He swung his head to glance at Brooke again. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say she’d gotten laid. But Brooke didn’t do one-nighters, and he didn’t think she had afriends with benefitsrelationship in Paris, although she had been visiting the city for ages. He considered her neck, exposed from a green silk blouse, looking for a hickey. Nothing. Not like he’d expect Brooke to let anyone mark her. She’d crush the man under her stiletto until he criedUncle.
He gazed at the magazine in his hands and threw it aside. Reading so wasn’t his thing. He’d tried to tell Jacqueline he would prefer for her to tell him a wine’s history or to visit the vineyard and experience it for himself. Magazines didn’t stir his senses, and choosing wine wasallabout the senses.
Jacqueline, being a studied sommelier with a fancy degree, disagreed, of course. She said magazines would point them in the right direction. He could see her reasoning, but he’d pointed out that she was better at that than him. His brain worked in different ways. Another early business and relationship wrinkle they were working out.
He swung his feet some more, boredom rising. Brooke’s humming began again as she tapped on her phone, probably working on one of her famous lists. He looked around the kitchen again. Everyone was in their own world. He could almost hear his inner child saying,I want someone to play with.
So he turned in his barstool until he was facing Brooke, who sat two seats down, her business satchel on the seat between them. “What’s got you so happy, Brooke?”
She jerked out of her reverie, the melody silenced from her mouth. “What?”
“You’re humming.” He gave his own version of the sound. “You never hum.”
“She’s creating,” Sawyer broke in, pencil scratching. “Humming puts you in touch with the right side of your brain.”
Sure, but he didn’t buy it. Not for Brooke.
“Madison is dancing to a song in her head because she’s creating,” Sawyer continued, making Madison come alert and look over. “Dean, don’t you ever hum?”
The stirrings of a psychological discussion were suddenly in the air. Not what he’d been going for. “Probably. I’m not conscious of it.”
Sawyer nodded. “Exactly.” Doc continued working, satisfied.
