Once Upon a Valentine (8 page)

At the registration desk, the clerk treated them like a couple, gave them sly glances when she handed over two room keys. “Mr. MacMillan, Ms. Tomlinson, your rooms are…
close
to each other.”

“Thank you,” they muttered in unison.

On the elevator ride, Summer stared straight ahead, thinking the less she looked at Andrew, the less apt he was to guess what she was thinking—that she’d love to share his bed tonight. They alighted from the elevator and discovered their rooms were directly across the hall from each other. The bellman was behind them with their overnight bags.

Andrew tipped the man, then gave her a tight smile. “Give me twenty minutes to change?”

She returned a curt nod. “Knock on my door when you’re ready.”

It was the longest twenty minutes of her life. She refreshed her makeup, impulsively stroking on a layer of the mood lipstick. She pressed her lips together, noting the pale cherry hue that looked like a natural stain, doubting there was any truth to the assertion that the lipstick would “brighten” if a woman was attracted to her companion. More likely, it was a reaction to sunlight, or the bright lights of the studio.

She brushed her hair, opting to leave it loose around her shoulders. She adjusted her red dress again and again, wishing she had something else to change into, worried it was too formal for a platonic dinner in the hotel restaurant. After all, Andrew would probably change into casual slacks or jeans. She didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard to…what?

Seduce him?

The knock on the door made her jump. When she opened it, her mouth went dry and she was instantly glad she hadn’t changed. Andrew wore a dark suit, with an open-collar cream-colored dress shirt. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, then fell into step with him to walk to the elevator, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding in her chest. She was being silly, she chastised herself on the ride down and the short walk to the restaurant. This was simply a business dinner between two associates…old friends…neighbors. Wholly platonic and completely unromantic.

But when they entered the restaurant, she did a double take—red hearts dominated the wall and table decor, sensual music played in the background and couples sat huddled in twos in low lighting.

She’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day and that the entire world would be paired up for dinner. And from the look on his face, Andrew had forgotten, too.

8

THE MAÎTRE D’ EXTENDED a wide smile. “Welcome. You’re in luck. We still have some choice tables left, and the chef has prepared a special menu to share for Valentine’s Day.”

Andrew took a half step back. “I don’t think…I mean…” He glanced at Summer, hoping she’d step in.

“We’re not dating,” Summer supplied.

The maître d’ angled his head. “This is your first time dining together?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

His smile beamed wider. “Even better. Right this way.”

Summer looked at Andrew with raised eyebrows. Andrew hesitated, but realized his only choices were to leave, which would be rude, or to embarrass Summer by pressing the issue that they weren’t a couple. He acquiesced with a lift of his arm to indicate she should precede him. She smiled and followed the maître d’, and he followed her, marveling how the view of her from behind was equally as mesmerizing as the view from the front. She was a stunner in that red dress. Considering the way the studio crew had stared at her during the shoot, he was tempted to believe the reason more units of the hair conditioner hadn’t sold was because TV viewers had been too riveted by her to listen to what was being said.

As if to prove his point, more than one head turned as they walked by. Andrew picked up his pace and held his hand at the small of Summer’s back in case the louts with wandering eyes got any ideas. Her silky hair tickled his palm. He gritted his teeth against the urge to sink his hands into the thick curtain.

They were led to an intimate table that was more like a half booth and necessitated them sitting close. A waiter appeared and handed Summer a red rose. She smiled and held the bloom up to her nose for a deep inhale, then broke off the stem and tucked it behind her ear. The waiter nodded in adoring approval, and Andrew squashed a jealous pang. He listened as the man described the fixed menu of hearty bread, caprese salad, chateaubriand, side dishes and dessert. Andrew ordered a bottle of pinot noir. When they were alone, he cast about for a distraction from her luminous blue eyes. At a loss, he retrieved his phone and glanced at the screen.

“Expecting a call?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a frown. “But I just noticed my network is down. Does your phone have service?”

She pulled a small phone from her purse. “No. Maybe it’s because of the storm.”

Heavy curtains were drawn over tall windows, but flashes of lightning lit up the edges, and rain pounded the roof.

“I wonder if it’s storming in Tiny,” she said, her voice thick with concern. “The horses will be stressed, especially Sallie, since she hasn’t had time to acclimate.”

Andrew was touched by how much she cared about the animals. “Red will take good care of them.”

“I’m worried about what will happen to them now,” she murmured. “I was so hopeful Mane Squeeze would be a runaway success. I guess I was a little naive.”

He hated seeing her disappointment, but deep down, he was relieved the sampling had failed. He could say they’d given it a shot and get back to his life in New York. “Success for a new product is like lightning in a bottle. As much as we professionals hate to admit it, sometimes it comes down to random luck.”

“It’s not the absolute end of Barber’s formula,” she said. “I’ll still use it, and I’ll groom the horses with it as long as they’re around.”

He toyed with the stem of his glass. “Tessa said the State Park is interested in buying the farm. Maybe they’ll be willing to fund a horse-rescue center.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I’ve worked for the Park for a long time. They simply don’t have the funds to invest in a venture that doesn’t generate revenue.”

He inclined his head, conceding she was probably right.

She shifted in her chair, then gestured to their festive surroundings. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding that we’re here on a date.”

“It’s okay. I suppose to outsiders, we look like a couple.”

A blush tinged her cheeks, and he realized that despite the letdown over the lack of interest in the special conditioner, she was enjoying the moment. She probably didn’t get many chances to dress up and dine in upscale surroundings in Tiny.

When the music changed to a slow song and she glanced wistfully at the couples gathering on the small dance floor, Andrew told himself it wouldn’t hurt anything to ask her to dance. But when she moved into his arms under the twinkling overhead lights, he realized he was sorely testing his resolve not to bed her. With her willowy body pressing against his and her golden hair swirling around her shoulders, it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine the two of them horizontal, indulging in a different kind of dance altogether.

The woman had him tied in knots, he acknowledged as the night wore on.

The food was delicious and the more wine Summer drank, the more animated she became. Over the shared meal, they conversed easily about growing up in Tiny, laughing over collective memories. She was well-read and plugged into current events. Her values and beliefs mirrored his on many issues, but she was congenial and open-minded. He couldn’t remember a more enjoyable meal.

“You’re staring at my mouth,” Summer said, lifting her napkin. “Do I have a smudge?”

“No, your mouth is just very…red. It’s nice,” he added quickly, then realized he sounded like an idiot. “It must be from the wine.”

She touched her fingers to her mouth. “The host of the shopping channel gave me a tube of the mood lipstick they were selling.”

He squinted. “I vaguely remember…it’s supposed to change colors?”

She nodded.

“Depending on what?”

She arched an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look.

His body reacted, sending a rush of blood to his midsection.

“How red is it?” she asked, pursing into a pout and leaning closer. “Like a cherry?”

He swallowed painfully.

She leaned closer. “Like a strawberry?”

It was getting harder to breathe…and harder everywhere else, too.

“Like a siren?” she whispered.

Thank goodness, the waiter arrived with dessert, breaking into the red-hot exchange. Andrew lifted his napkin to dab at the perspiration beaded at his hairline. The woman was killing him.

Over a decadent chocolate dessert, their forks touched above the table while their knees touched underneath. And by the time they returned to their rooms, their hands and hips brushed at every step. When they stopped in front of her door, Andrew’s reasons for not sleeping with Summer were in danger of being overridden by all the reasons he should.

He no longer had to worry about the complication of being tied to her over marketing his father’s formula. In fact, since he’d be leaving soon, he didn’t have to worry about any ties at all. After his father’s land was sold, he didn’t foresee a reason to ever return to Tiny.

Besides, he thought languidly, the way she toyed with her amazing hair and stared into his eyes told him she recognized the heat they generated. And her lips were so red and juicy, they looked as if they might pop. So why was he hesitant?

Because Summer Tomlinson was not one-night-stand material. She had that dreamy forever look in her eyes that scared him more than the thought of being mugged on a dark New York street.

“Good night,” he said abruptly, then turned to go, only to be brought up short by a tug and a yelp.

Summer’s hair was caught in a button on his jacket.

“Ow,” she said, leaning toward him.

He fumbled to free the blond strands, but in the low lighting of the hallway, he only succeeded in making things worse.

“Ow, ow, ow.”

“Sorry. Maybe you should try.”

But she couldn’t turn her head to see the button. “Can you take off your jacket?”

They twisted in every direction, but it was hopeless. Summer alternately groaned and laughed, holding her head. “Stop, please—I have scissors in my room.”

She reached into her purse, then handed him her key card. He opened the door and awkwardly walked inside with her attached to him like a Siamese twin. She gestured blindly toward the bathroom.

“We need to move in that direction to find my toiletry kit.”

They moved as if they were shackled together, giving in to bursts of laughter. After much clumsy rummaging, Summer finally retrieved the scissors from her bag and handed them to Andrew.

He balked. “I can’t cut your hair.”

“You’ll have to. I can’t see the knot.”

Panic seized him at the thought of slicing off even a tiny section of her glorious hair. “But…will it grow back?”

She laughed. “Eventually. But if you don’t hurry, I’m going to have a permanent crook in my neck.”

He swallowed and positioned the scissors close to the tangle around his button. In two snips, she was free, leaving a strand of golden hair in his hand.

She surveyed the damage, dismissed it with a wave, then held up a trash can for him.

“You’re just going to throw it away?” he asked.

She smiled. “If I were home, I’d put it in the garden for the birds to use to build nests.”

He released the thatch of flaxen hair and watched it float into the can.

“I keep getting caught on you,” she said with a laugh.

He nodded, thinking he should leave before something else of hers wound up wrapped around him.

“I should go,” he said. But his feet wouldn’t move.

Summer was twisting a lock of her shiny hair around her finger. Somewhere along the way, the rose bloom behind her ear had been lost. The golden mane was mussed from their earlier contortions with the jacket. Her blue eyes and red mouth were still soft from the wine. She was, without a doubt, the most sexy woman he’d ever seen.