Why Not Tonight. Susan Mallery

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      RONAN HAD NO idea what time Natalie finally went to bed. When he got up after a handful of hours sleeping, the house was quiet. Despite the storm still milling around, he checked with the county road crew and was not surprised when they said there was no way they could begin to clear roads for at least another twenty-four hours.

      He went into his office to send an email to his brother Mathias, telling him what was going on. As his laptop booted, he noticed a tiny green origami dragon sitting next to his computer. He picked it up and held it on the palm of his hand.

      The workmanship was precise, the lines perfect. There was something compelling about the tiny creature. He finished his email, then put the paper dragon on his bookshelf before heading to the kitchen to brew coffee.

      As he waited for the machine to work its magic, he prowled the family room, spotting a tiny paper mouse on an end table. There was a turtle in the dining room and a classic crane in the foyer.

      Once the coffee was done, he picked up the turtle and carried it with him to his studio. As he passed through the long hallway, he felt the force of the storm outside. According to the weather reports, it would blow itself out by the end of the day and then the cleanup would begin.

      He put the turtle on his desk and began to sketch. He wasn’t sure it was possible for glass to capture the sharp edges of origami. He couldn’t use a sheet of glass and fold it—that would be too thick. So he would have to create the illusion of folds and lines.

      Hours later he stared at the molten mess he’d made. It was a green blob that was more failed science experiment than turtle, but he’d learned from his mistakes and was eager to try again. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since dinner, so he went back into the house.

      He found Natalie sitting at the island, a mug in front of her. She was back in her dress, with her hair all curly and her eyes slightly sleepy. She looked soft and rumpled and sexy as hell.

      For a second, he allowed himself to simply look. To take in the perfect line of her cheek and the way her glasses added an impish air.

      Something stirred inside of him. Not the need to re-create her in glass—no, the sensation was more base. Desire, he thought with some surprise. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked, and how her scent would surround him when he got close to her. He wanted to kiss her and taste coffee on her lips. He wanted to know what she was like in bed. Was she as feisty as she was in the rest of her life, or did she yield with a sigh designed to drive a man to madness?

      She looked up and smiled. “Morning.”

      He mentally turned his back on his imaginings and glanced at the clock. “Barely,” he said, his voice teasing.

      “I know, I know. I indulged my inner night owl and worked until sunrise. It was glorious.”

      “The work or the sunrise?”

      “Both. The storm was going hot and heavy, but I could still see the light on the horizon. Nature is miraculous. What have you been doing in your studio?”

      “Playing, mostly. You?”

      “I painted.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s total crap, but that’s okay. From crap comes inspiration. I seem to often start with a horrible painting. I guess it’s because my mom was a painter, only she was brilliant.”

      “Have you eaten?”

      She shook her head. “I was trying to figure out what I wanted, although it would probably make more sense to see what you have and then decide on something.”

      “Breakfast or lunch?”

      “I’m open.”

      “Let’s make it brunch. Omelets okay?”

      “Sure.”

      He headed to the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients. He stacked eggs, cheese, a red pepper and mushrooms on the counter, then pulled a box from the freezer and handed it to her. Based on her reaction to the hot chocolate, he had a feeling she would be all in.

      She read the label and groaned. “Cinnamon buns? What are you doing to me?”

      “You don’t want one?”

      “I want all of them, but one will do.”

      He turned on the oven and got out a baking sheet, then washed his hands and began chopping up the pepper.

      “How do you know how to do all this?” she asked. “You’re very handy in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have expected it.”

      “Mathias and I moved out when we were maybe twenty-two. Neither of us was crazy about takeout every night, so we took a couple of cooking classes. It was fun and we learned the basics.”

      “And it was yet another weapon in your attracting-women arsenal.”

      “Asking or telling?”

      She grinned. “Oh, I’m telling.”

      He was surprised. While he used to be very successful with women, in the past few years he’d stopped trying. He preferred to be alone. So how would Natalie know whether he had an arsenal or not?

      He СКАЧАТЬ