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Steffie wasn’t sure what to believe. With all her heart she longed to lose herself in Charles’s kiss, to savor all the sensations that flooded her. And yet the uncertainty remained. Did he merely desire her, or did he, too, feel a forever kind of love?
But his kiss wiped out all thought as the joy rushed through her, replacing fear and doubt.
“Someone’s coming,” Charles whispered suddenly. He broke away, still holding her shoulders, and brushed his mouth against her forehead. Then he released her.
* * *
Steffie’s father was sitting by the fireplace in his den when she let herself into the house later that night. She saw the lamplight spilling into the entryway and decided to check on him.
“Dad?” David was sitting in the wingback leather chair beside the fireplace, her mother’s afghan tucked around his legs. His head drooped and his lips were slightly parted.
Steffie had spoken before she realized he was asleep. But just as she turned to tiptoe from the room, he stirred.
“Steffie?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she told him quietly.
“Good thing you did. I was waiting up for you.” He ran one hand through his hair and sat up straighter. “How was your dinner with Charles?”
Steffie sank onto the ottoman, angling her legs to one side. She knew her eyes had a dreamy look, but she didn’t care. “Wonderful.”
“Did Charles ask you anything?”
“Ask me anything?” she repeated, feigning ignorance. “What could he possibly have to ask me?”
David Bloomfield frowned. “Plenty. I thought—I hoped he was going to mention…an upcoming event.”
“Oh, that!” she said with a light disinterested laugh. If the evening hadn’t been so wonderful, she would’ve felt irritated with his pressure tactics. But she found it impossible to complain when she was this happy.
“He did, you mean? And what did you tell him? Don’t keep me in suspense, Princess.”
Steffie splayed her fingers and studied the smoothly polished nails before sighing. “I told him we’ll see about it on Sunday.”
“Sunday? You’re going to keep that boy in agony until Sunday?”
She nodded, affecting a complete lack of concern. “He wanted to know if we could go horseback riding, and I said we could probably do it on Sunday. That’s the question you’re referring to, isn’t it?”
“No,” came his disappointed reply. “And well you know it. I expected that boy to ask you to marry him.”
“Well, he didn’t and even if he had—”
“Even if he had, what?” The frown slid back into place. “I tell you, Stephanie, you’re as stubborn as your mother when it comes to this sort of thing. You can’t fool me—you’ve been in love with Charles for years. If he asks you to marry him—”
“But he hasn’t and from what I could see, he doesn’t have any intention of doing so.”
“I don’t agree.”
“You’re free to think what you want, Dad, but keep in mind that this is my life and I won’t take kindly to your interfering in it. And remember that Charles values his privacy, too.”
“He didn’t ask you to marry him,” her father muttered under his breath. “You don’t think he intends to, either?” he demanded, louder now.
“Not to my knowledge.”
A look of righteous indignation came over him. “Then I’d better have a talk with that boy. I won’t allow him to trifle with your affections.”
“Dad!” Steffie had trouble not laughing over the old-fashioned terms he used. She was sure Charles would find it humorous, too, if she suggested he was “trifling” with her heart.
“I mean it, Steffie. I refuse to let that young man hurt you again.”
