Page 44 of The Lyrics of Love

Nash moved around the group, telling everyone goodnight. He waited for Rylie to claim her purse and they went to her SUV. He helped her inside and they returned to his rental.

Or he thought they would. Instead, Rylie sailed past it.

“Do we have somewhere else to be?” he asked, confused.

“I thought we could go back to my place for a while. You said you wanted to see it.”

Nash’s heart sped up. “Yes. I would.”

They didn’t exchange another word until Rylie cut the engine. “This is it. It’s smaller than I would like, but it was all I could afford with Antiques and Mystiques. Leasing the store. Building its inventory. Designing a website. I’m currently in the middle of a year’s lease. Eventually, I’d like to buy my own place to live in the Cove. At least this one came unfurnished, so I’ve been able to put some of my favorite finds in it.” She chuckled. “That’s the beauty of owning a furniture store. If I get tired of something, I can just have the twins come pick it up and try to sell it, while I choose from my inventory and have the boys move a new table or chair or settee in until I tire of it.”

He thought a moment. “A settee. That’s the one like a sofa, but it’s got arms on the sides. And a tall back.”

“Very good, Mr. Edwards,” Rylie said, her voice low and suddenly very seductive.

Nash didn’t want any of her neighbors catching them kissing in the car. “Let’s go inside.”

She led him up the porch stairs. “I regret it’s only a postage stamp-sized porch. I envy you having your swing.”

“You can come sit on my swing anytime, Rylie. You know that. With or without me. Whether I’m home or not.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes large and her voice small.

She opened the screen door and slid the key into the lock. He found his heart slamming against his ribs at the thought of being alone with her. He had an idea that she was ready to step things up.

And he was more than ready to accept that challenge.

A single lamp burned on a table next to the door. She moved around the room, switching on lights, continuing through the house. He remained where he was, walking around and studying each piece.

“That’s a Chippendale chair at what I use as a desk. It’s actually a card table.”

“I recognized the claw-and-ball feet on it.” He studied the table. “Huh. It’s got five legs.”

“Good eye. Yes, card tables usually have four, like the Queen Anne designs we saw at the estate sale.” She stepped to a bookcase. “This is Art Deco.” She wet her lips nervously, and Nash knew she was feeling the same as he was.

“My favorite piece in the house is a Sheraton dresser.”

“Those lines were plainer than Federal, right?”

Rylie smiled shyly. “You really do listen well.”

“Show me the dresser, Rylie.” Their gazes locked.

“All right.”

She moved down a short hallway and turned right, where a small lamp next to the bed illuminated a portion of the room.

“Here it is.”

“Beautiful.”

But Nash was not looking at the chest. He was looking at her.

They moved toward one another slowly. He slipped his arms around her waist and touched his lips to her. Fire sparked between them, and she clutched his shirt, wadding it in her fists as she hungrily kissed him. He let her set the pace—and it was frenzied.

They kissed as if someone had told them they only had a short time to do so and would never be able to kiss again. He brought her flush against him, not bothering to hide his erection. He kissed her greedily, taking and taking even more, the heady aroma of her perfume almost making him dizzy.

Rylie was the one who broke the kiss, panting. “Will you make love to me?”

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