Page 187 of The Heart You Kept

“But seeing what?”

“Seeing as we are new and you wanted to cook me dinner here in private.”

In private?

I stare at him as I try to read between the lines. “Is Hermione going to be calling on your houses and you don’t want her to see me, is that what you’re saying?”

“No.”

“So what are we hiding from?”

“The paparazzi, as soon as I am photographed with you there will be a media frenzy and Hermione doesn’t need that added pressure right now.” He takes me into his arms. “And neither do you.” He kisses me softly. “Besides, I would like some time for us to be alone for a while without distractions.” He kisses me again, his tongue sliding through my lips. “Wouldn’t you?” I feel myself melt into his arms, he puts his finger under my chin, bringing my face up to his. “Okay?”

“Okay.” I smile, honestly, this man could sell honey to a bee.

He steps back from me. “So…show me around.”

“Well.” I snap out of my annoyance. “This is the living room.” I hold my hand out and point to the furnishings. “Armchair. Armchair. Couch. Coffee table.”

“You have beautiful taste.” He smiles as he looks around. “Something tells me that you like antiques?”

“Maybe a little.” I smile proudly as I look around the room and I try to see it through his eyes for the first time. I’m not going to lie, I love my home more than anything in the world. The walls are a warm cream with crown molding, the drapes are a deep coffee-colored velvet and hang from the twelve-foot ceilings. There is a huge, gilded mirror above the cream marble fireplace and Gobelin tapestries are hung in assorted gold frames. Chandeliers and pleated gold lamps add ambience. The details are in the deep red cushions and vases of flowers. The most beautiful thing about living here has been the joy of being over the top with my extravagant French furnishings. My place is small but it’s decorated as if it’s a palace.

“This is the kitchen.” I show him proudly. “I had this remodeled just last year.” I point to the oven. “My pièce de résistance.”

He eyes it over. “You like your oven?”

“I love my oven.”

“You are in love with your oven?” Amusement flashes across his face.

“I love to cook.”

“Hmm.” He walks around with his hands clasped behind his back as he takes it all in. “And what is…that?”

I glance up to where he gestured. “What do you mean?”

“That plant thing growing up the wall.”

“Oh, right.” I laugh. “That’s a devil’s ivy, she was my first family member I bought when I moved to France, she’s lovely isn’t she?”

“Hmm.” A trace of a frown flashes across his face. “A family member?”

“Plants are living things too, you know.”

“If you say so.” Amusement crosses his face. “I would assume you’d have bought a better-looking family member.”

“You don’t like devil’s ivy?”

“I just never saw one growing up a wall on the inside of a house.”

“How sad for you.”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile and I feel it all the way to my bones.

“Oh.” I remember something. “Come out here.” I open the French doors to my garden; it has stone walls on either side blocking out the neighbors but the most beautiful view of the ocean. There’s a small table for two on the patio and two deck chairs on the small, round grassed area. “Let me show you my pride and joy.” We walk down a little stone path and I hold out my hands, “Ta-da.”

He frowns as if confused. “What’s that?”