The Idea of You (7 page)

“Fun! I visited Hobbiton when I was in New Zealand last year.”

His brain zeroed in on what she said, and everything else fell away. “You've been to Hobbiton?”

She nodded. “It was incredible. I was a huge fan of the movies.”

“Do you have pictures? I'd love to see them. I'm, uh . . . ” He flicked her a direct glance. “I'm a bit of a
Lord of the Rings
nerd.”

“Then you should totally go!”

The thought of traveling so far made him cringe. “New Zealand is on the other side of the world. That plane ride has to be brutal.”

“It's not so bad if you take first class.”

Thanks to the money he'd inherited from his grandfather, he could more than afford that, but he still wasn't convinced. “I'll think about it. But I'd still like to see your pictures.”

“Definitely. I have a bunch on my iPad back at the apartment. Can you show me the underground room? I'd love to see it.”

“Sure. We can go out the back door over here.” He unbolted the rear entrance and opened the door to let her out. Once they were both outside, he locked it back up behind him. “This way.” He led her along a wide path. “This will be a corridor connecting the restaurant with the hotel.”

“I see it's all marked.” She gestured toward the wooden stakes set at intervals. “And your sister's fiancé is managing this entire project?”

“Yeah, and he's doing a great job.” His mind had drifted away from
Lord of the Rings
and was making its way back to her. He could just smell her perfume—something light and fresh, with the slightest hint of floral. “Does your perfume have peonies?”

She laughed. “Where did that come from? Sorry, I guess you did tell me you're the King of the Non Sequitur. Yes to the peonies. They're my favorite flowers. You have a great nose.”

“Sometimes. Hayden would argue that I don't get wine quite right.”

“Don't you ever wonder if that's all garbage anyway? I mean, I can never smell all the things the notes say I should be able to, can you?”

“Not always, and that's why Hayden debates me. I call bullshit, and he defends the various notes in the wine—vanilla, cassis, coffee . . . whatever. Like I couldn't pick up the smell of coffee. It's one of the strongest scents out there. Sometimes I can barely put up with standing in line at Starbucks. Good thing I don't like it that much. It's good with caramel in it. Or sometimes I have a mocha. Last year I started drinking chai tea lattes. Those are pretty good.”

She paused and looked at him. “I don't know that I've ever heard you say that much at one time.”

Crap, he'd rambled. He didn't do it as often as he used to, but sometimes he mentally checked out. It was a sign that he was pretty comfortable with her. Comfortable enough to lower his guard. He thought of a way to put a humorous spin on it—or try to, anyway. “Part of my lack of filter. You're lucky I didn't launch into a monologue about Peter Jackson's adaptation of Tolkien's novels.”

She laughed, and he relaxed. Mission accomplished.

“I love chai tea.” She turned to look at the monks' quarters, which were currently undergoing renovation. “This is the hotel?”

“Yes, there will be forty rooms.”

“Will there be a spa? This place is screaming for a spa.”

He looked over at her. Her gaze was fixed on the building. The wide doorway had been cut but was covered with plastic until the doors came in.

“I don't think we've talked about a spa. That's a good idea.”

“It's just so beautiful and peaceful here. I bet it's breathtaking in summer.”

He thought of the warm, gentle breeze, the smell of grass and wild berries, the sounds of birds and bees—and the odd farm equipment running somewhere in the distance. “There's no place quite like Ribbon Ridge. Well, I'm sure there is, but I've never been there.”

“You don't travel much, do you?”

“Not unless I have to. The furthest I've been is Disneyworld.” Which had been too loud and incredibly overstimulating for an eight-year-old. Their family vacations in Hawaii had been much more his speed.

“Whereas I've been around the world.”

“Where's your favorite place?”

“Until this weekend, I would've said Ireland or Greece, but Ribbon Ridge is coming up pretty high on my list.”

He felt her gaze on him. It was almost as strong and potent as her touch. It awakened his senses and set them to craving something he shouldn't want.

“The underground pub is this way.” A blessedly cold wind rustled through his hair, giving him a much-needed chill.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Brrr. That wind is something else.”

“I'll go into town when we get back and get you a hat. What's your favorite color?”

“Turquoise.” She glanced up at him. “But you don't have to go to any trouble.”

“Buying you a hat isn't trouble.”

“I wish I could go with you. I'd love to see Ribbon Ridge proper. Your family's flagship pub is there?”

“In the heart. The Arch and Vine. All of the pubs have Arch in the title, and so does Kyle's restaurant. It's the Arch and Fox. The fox was Alex's animal. We all have animals. It comes from the Christmas ornaments that Mom bought for us when we were kids. Although, Sara's is also Dad's nickname for her—Kitten.” He realized—too late—that he was rambling again, so he stopped.

“What's your animal?” she asked.

“A bear.”

“Is there a reason, or did you just like bears?”

“It's because I liked bear hugs. I have . . . sensory issues. Like the whispering in my ear thing the other day. When I was young, I liked tight hugs—bear hugs. That's where it comes from.”

“That's so sweet.” Her voice was soft and gentle, the opposite of the crushing hugs he'd needed when he was overstimulated. “What's the Arch name for the underground pub, or does it have one?”

“Actually, it's a different convention. I think we're calling it Archetype. Since it's our first underground pub.”

“
Love
it.”

He looked at the entrance to the pub. It was dug out and had a wood frame, but the ground was muddy. Not sink-down-into-it muddy, but it wasn't dry, either. “Good thing you wore boots.”

He started toward the door, but she didn't come with him.

“Um. These cost twelve hundred dollars, and they're my favorite. No way I'm stepping in the mud in these.”

He turned back, swept her up into his arms, and ducked through the doorway. Her arms curled around his neck. “Such a gentleman,” she murmured. Her breath was warm and soft against his cheek. And this time, her whisper didn't jar him. On the contrary, it stoked the need already kindling within him.

“The floor's still dirt in here for now, but it's not muddy. Can I set you down?”

She sighed. “If you must.” The clasp of her hand against the base of his neck told him another story. And she weighed nothing, despite her height.

Reluctantly, he let go of her legs, and they dropped to the ground. He didn't remove his hand from her back, however, and neither did she take her hand from his neck. She turned into him. “You told me I should tell you what I want. I want you to kiss me. Is that bad?”

“No. I want to kiss you, too.”

Her other hand rested against his chest, and she moved it up the front of his leather jacket until it met her other hand at his nape. “I just love how tall you are.” Her fingers pressed into his neck. “Hey, any chance you can look at me?”

He forced his gaze to meet hers, and the connection was swift and hard. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her against his chest. Then she closed her eyes, and he dipped his head. Their lips met, and a burst of desire rolled through him. That mouth he'd been surreptitiously watching—the one that curved into the smile that lit up millions of screens—was as lush and soft as he'd imagined. Her head tilted and her lips parted while her hands splayed against his neck. Every place where her body met his reveled in her touch.

He opened his mouth and met her tongue as he clasped her more tightly against him. He wanted to feel her everywhere without their clothing to keep them apart.

She kissed him more aggressively, her fingers digging into his flesh. He loved the pressure of her hands, the demand of her mouth, the press of her breasts into his chest. He moved a hand down to her ass and cupped the soft swell. Her legs parted a bit, and her hips pushed into his.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her, stealing soft little moans emanating from her throat. Everything about her was unbelievably sexy, and she was pushing him to the absolute limit. She kissed him back with every bit of hunger he possessed, her body straining against his.

He clasped her waist and lifted her. Without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her legs around his hips, fitting them together in the most intimate way possible with their clothes still on.

And damn these clothes anyway.

He squeezed her ass as she tightened her legs around him. God, she felt so good. The strain of his muscles as he held her up enlivened his body and fed his senses.

The sound of voices somehow pierced his lust-crazed brain. He dragged his mouth from hers and for a second could only hear their ragged breathing. “Someone's coming,” he managed.

She pulled her legs from his waist, and he edged her down to the ground. They both took a step back and brought their hands to their mouths. Evan strode toward a darkened corner and fervently hoped his raging erection would disappear.

Tori and Sean appeared in the doorway. “Hey, I thought you were going to let us know you were coming,” Sean said.

“You didn't get my text?” Alaina asked. Damn, she was pretty good at lying. And fast, too.

“No.” Sean pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Terrible service in here.”

“We'll fix that before it opens,” Tori said. She stepped closer to Alaina. “What do you think of the place?”

“It's incredible. I told Evan you guys should have a spa.”

Evan was relieved to feel his hard-on diminishing. But he still wasn't quite ready to step out of the shadows.

“Oh. My. God. Why haven't we ever thought about that?” She slapped her hand to her forehead. “I'm serious. That's ridiculously stupid. I guess we were just focused on the other aspects. Where would we put it?”

“I have no idea. You're the architect, right?” Alaina asked.

“Right. I'm just thinking out loud. This is so brilliant! Sean, what do you think?”

“I think we're complete gits not to have thought of it. Can you carve some space out of one of the floors of the hotel?”

“That would mean losing rooms. No, I think we'll have to add on. Geez, maybe it's good that we have extra time due to this zoning BS.”

As back to normal as he was going to get—his heart was still racing, and his body was still strung tight with desire—Evan emerged from the corner. “Would you guys mind taking Alaina home? I need to get back.”

It was a lame excuse. Actually, it wasn't an excuse at all, but he needed to get away from this situation. He was completely overstimulated at the moment, and he was having difficulty self-regulating.

“Sure, no problem,” Sean said.

“Thanks. See you later, Alaina.” Evan headed toward the door, but a touch on the back of his bicep slammed into him, and he turned, knowing who it was.

“Hey, why are you leaving? Was it something I did again? I thought we were on the same page.” She kept her voice low.

“We are. But now that they're here, I'm . . . uncomfortable. I need to go.”

“Who's going to carry me over the mud?”

Shit.
He hadn't thought about that. “Want me to take you now?”

“Take me?” Her voice had lowered to a dangerously seductive level. “God, I hope you mean that in the most caveman, sexual sense of the word.”

Okay, when he'd asked her to speak plainly, he hadn't anticipated anything like
that
. His cock sprang right back to attention. “You're making this—me, you're making
me
—really hard.”

Her eyes shuttered for a moment. “You are too good to be true.” When she opened her eyes again, the gold rimming the hazel irises seemed to glow with an inner fire.

He shifted his gaze away. “I'll see you later—at dinner.”

“Count on it. And this time I want dessert.”

He glanced down at her feet. “What about your expensive boots?”

“I'll be fine. You go ahead.” She reached out and nudged his hand with her knuckles. “Remember:
dessert
.”

He turned away from her and strode quickly to his car. Once inside, he took several deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. He didn't remember the last time he'd been this worked up sexually. Maybe never. He was tempted to go home and take the edge off, but he didn't want to. He wanted to wait, to
anticipate
.

He couldn't wait for dessert.

A
LAINA HAD SHOWERED
after Sean and Tori had driven her back from The Alex. Not because she needed one, but because she'd hoped the cold water would dampen her raging hormones. No such luck.

So here she was at five to six, about to go have dinner with Evan's family while trying not to jump his bones.
This was going to be fun.

More like torture.

She spread gloss on her lips and pressed them together before taking a final look in the mirror. Going makeup free was fine for an afternoon hanging out with friends, but for dinner with the Archer clan, she wanted to look nice. Her mama might be a former crackwhore, but she'd taught Alaina to make a good impression. Flaws and mistakes were meant to be covered up.

Alaina picked up her phone and realized she didn't have anywhere to put it. Her dress didn't have a pocket, and she didn't really want to bring a purse. Wasn't the whole point of getting away to step off the grid? So far, so good. She was nice and isolated in her little corner of Ribbon Ridge. She was beginning to think it was paradise.

She left the bathroom, dropped her phone on the kitchen counter, and exited the apartment.

A few cars were parked between the garages, one of which she recognized as Sean's. As she stepped into the back door of the house, conversation and laughter drifted from the kitchen, which she'd visited last night during her tour of the empty house.

She'd lied about not opening every door. She'd figured out that the far wing of the first floor belonged to Evan's parents, so she'd respectfully left it alone. But she'd gone upstairs for a quick peek. Most of the rooms were open, and she could see they were the former bedrooms of the Archer kids. They looked like they belonged to young adults. Until she'd come to a nearly closed door. When Jean-Luc Picard strutted out and meowed at her in passing, she'd deduced it was Evan's room.

A stab of guilt had made her turn away, but then she'd talked herself into taking just a very quick look. Then she'd seen the
Star Trek
collectibles. And
Lord of the Rings
posters, which had been
signed
by Peter Jackson. She'd had to play dumb that afternoon when he'd mentioned it, which only made her feel even more guilty that she'd peeked.

He wasn't just a
Lord of the Rings
nerd, he appeared to be a full-on
Big Bang Theory
geek. And she loved it.

Science-fiction movies had been her first love. Sigourney Weaver in
Aliens
was the entire reason she'd wanted to become a movie star. And not an actress—yes, she'd wanted to act—but a movie star. She wanted to star in movies so that she could do things that she never could in real life, like kill an alien. Or go back in time. Or fall in love.

Okay, that last one she
could
do, she just didn't think she ever would. Cynicism had befriended her at a very young age, even before Crystal, and it was a hard habit to break. The string of boyfriends and one fiancé who had never made it to the altar only reinforced her belief that she was destined to be—and probably better off—alone.

“Alaina?” Tori came into the hallway. “I thought I heard the door. Come on in.” She smiled welcomingly. “Can I get you a beer or some wine? As you know, we have several excellent bottles open and ready. In fact, we're doing our best to decimate what's left.”

“You guys must be power hitters,” Alaina said. “That was a lot of wine.”

They moved into the huge kitchen, which included what Tori had earlier called a gathering room. It sported a massive farmhouse-style table, and there was a stone fireplace with a fire crackling in its hearth. It was exactly the sort of home Alaina had always dreamed about—not just because of the cozy way it looked, but because of the group of people standing around and sharing an obvious affection for one another. They were a family, something Alaina had never had.

Okay, maybe she wasn't exactly better off alone. She swallowed a surprising lump in her throat as introductions began.

An older couple, who had to be Evan's parents, came forward. “Hello, and welcome. I'm so sorry we weren't here to greet you when you arrived. I'm Emily Archer, and this is my husband, Rob.”

Rob offered his hand, and Alaina shook it. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“The pleasure is mine. I can't thank you enough for letting me stay in your apartment.”

Emily gave her a quick, warm hug. Alaina had to revise her earlier assessment; she could very easily fall in love—with this entire family. “Stay as long as you like, dear.”

Oh, she was in such trouble.

“Alaina, can I get you a glass of wine?” Sean called from across the kitchen.

“Sure, whatever.” Alaina scanned the faces for Evan and finally located him over near the dark windows. The sun had gone down, but Alaina knew there was a lovely view of their sprawling backyard and the pool area below.

More Archers introduced themselves. Evan's adoptive-brother-who-wasn't-really-adopted, Derek Sumner, and his artist wife, Chloe, Evan's brother Kyle, the chef who looked as though he belonged in the
Point Break
remake that was currently shooting, and his girlfriend, Maggie, the gardener who was also, in a word, adorable. And finally Evan's sister Sara, an event planner, and her fiancé, Dylan, the rugged contractor who was transforming the monastery into an A-list resort.

Sara's left hand was adorned with a rock the size of Kansas. Alaina took Sara's fingers and held them up. “He's a keeper.”

Sara laughed. “I think so, but not because of the ring.”

“It doesn't hurt.” Alaina winked at her as she let go of her hand. “He's quite a contractor, too. I saw The Alex today—it's amazing. And that underground pub is such a fantastic idea. You'll have lines out the door.” She looked at Dylan as she said this.

“Thanks. Your spa idea is pretty great, too, although you just completely screwed up my schedule.” He said this with a smile.

“I'd apologize, but you'll thank me when you're raking in the profits.”

“Does that mean you and your A-list friends will come and stay and put us on the map?” Sara asked in a playful tone.

“I'm not sure I'll have to. Sean's show about the opening of the restaurant is going to do that all on its own. You should think about including the hotel development in the show. Sean and I talked about that possibility this afternoon.” They'd discussed the project at length, probably boring poor Tori, but she hadn't complained.

Kyle, who was busily prepping dinner with some help from his mom and Maggie, whistled. “Dinner's up! Did someone ever set the table?”

“Shoot, I was in the middle of that and I got distracted,” Sara said. She pivoted toward the table.

“Can I help?” Alaina offered.

“Sure. The placemats are stacked over there—just distribute them along with some napkins. I'll get the silverware.” She turned toward the kitchen.

Alaina went around the table to where Evan was standing with his wineglass. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

She set her wineglass down and spread the placemats around at each place. “How come you're standing over here by yourself?” she asked.

“I'm a little, uh, overstimmed—overstimulated—tonight.” He didn't look anywhere near her, and his tone had that flat, almost monotone quality that he used from time to time. She was used to his lack of eye contact and the vocal intonations and understood both. She'd read up on Asperger's and knew that eye contact was difficult, almost painful even, for him. She'd also learned about social interaction and difficulties related to that, including vocal modulation. She'd concluded that he appeared to adapt pretty well. He seemed quirky, but she liked that about him. He was unlike anyone she'd ever known.

She wanted to understand what made him tick. “What does that mean exactly? Is it because of what happened this afternoon?”

“Probably. You . . . unnerve me.”

She instinctively touched her mouth, thinking of their kiss. “That doesn't sound good.”

“It isn't bad. I don't know what it is yet.”

Sara came to the table with the silverware. “You want to do spoons and knives or forks?”

“Whichever.” She held out her hand, and Sara gave her spoons and knives.

Alaina helped her finish with the table just as the food started arriving. She stared at the gorgeously arrayed plates featuring pork loin with a sauce, some greens, and what looked like polenta. “You plated the food?”

“He can't
not
plate the food,” Tori said.

“Who here doesn't like fancy-looking food?” Kyle asked loudly.

“I don't really care,” Evan answered.

“You're the only one, bro.” Kyle set down the last two plates. “Let's eat!”

Sean, Tori, Derek, and Chloe all brought wine bottles and set them at intervals along the table.

Alaina leaned close to Evan. “Where do I sit?”

“You can sit by me,” he said, taking a chair that faced the kitchen instead of the windows. Rob and Emily took the chairs at either end, and five chairs were crammed on each of the sides.

“If Hayden and Liam come home, let alone have significant others, we won't all fit here,” Emily said.

Rob smiled at her. “Maybe we just need a larger table.”

“Shall we toast to our illustrious guest?” Kyle asked, lifting his glass.

Alaina scoffed. “I'm not remotely illustrious.”

“Let's see, Golden Globe and Oscar winner. One of the highest-paid actresses in the world. I guess you're right. Total slacker. Never mind.” Kyle winked at her. “To Alaina What's-her-name, the biggest loser to ever grace our table.”

Everybody raised their glasses and clinked them against their neighbors'. Alaina laughed as she tapped her glass to Evan's and then Sara's.

“Kyle's obnoxious,” she said to Alaina.

“I can see that.” She could also see why he'd been the star of their reality show when they were kids and why Sean had wanted to profile him. He was naturally charismatic with crazy good looks to go along with it.

She slid a sideways glance at Evan, who'd started eating. Had it been difficult growing up with someone who was such a master at things that came so hard to him? Or had Kyle and his other siblings helped Evan out and given him the confidence and inspiration to be who he was today? She'd never missed the idea of having siblings more than she did right now. It gave her something to think about as she planned the next stage of her life and started her own family.

“Don't worry, Evan, I made your plate special—no spinach, just Swiss chard and escarole.”

Alaina paused in eating and turned her head to look at Evan. “You don't like spinach?” she asked quietly.

“Not particularly.”

“Yet you ate it the other night.”

He glanced at her. “I didn't want to be rude.”

He really was a gentleman. She nudged his thigh with the back of her hand and had to swallow a gasp. Damn, she had it bad. She sucked in a deep breath. “Tell me what you don't like in the future. And tell me what you do.” She realized, belatedly, that he could take that a variety of ways. Nevertheless, she didn't clarify. Let him take it however he wanted.

Unfortunately he didn't look her way again, so she couldn't detect a thing about what might be going on in his head. He seemed tense, his body more rigid than normal. Was that her fault? Had she strung him up tight with their kissing earlier?

“Kyle, this is delicious, as usual,” Emily said. Alaina forced herself to pay attention to something other than her attraction to Evan.

“Maggie made the polenta, so it was a joint effort.” Kyle smiled at his girlfriend, who sat across from him, next to Emily.

“I had a great teacher,” Maggie said, picking up her wineglass and giving him a little toast.

Conversation sprung up around the table. Alaina was in the center on her side, and Chloe was directly across from her.

“How long will you be here?” Chloe asked.

“I'm not sure.” Alaina glanced around the table. Sean had assured her that everyone would keep her presence secret. Some of these people—maybe all of them—would have read the stories circulating about her. But she didn't think anyone would bring them up. They didn't seem like people who would care about that sort of thing. Plus, they'd endured their own fame, albeit at a different level, and, as Evan had demonstrated, they likely understood the negatives that came along with it.

“You should come to The Arch and Vine,” Chloe said.

“I don't know that I want to go into town,” she said somewhat sheepishly. She hated sounding pretentious.

“We could sit you in a booth at the back of the restaurant. It's a narrow area—we use it for large groups because you can kind of contain people in the space. We could put up a screen so no one would see you.”

“I'll think about it.” She was curious to see the pub, but she wasn't sure she wanted to risk going out. Furthermore, she still wanted to see the historic homestead Evan had mentioned.

She turned to look at him. He was mostly quiet, but she'd heard him talking to Tori a little bit—she was on his other side. “Can you take me to the homestead tomorrow?”

He glanced at her, and the gray of his eyes seemed sharper, more crystalline. Or maybe she was just being a fanciful romantic. Crystal would say that was definitely the case. “Sure, if you want. I can come by around one if that works.”

She thrilled to the idea of spending the day with him again. Or at least part of it. “I have absolutely no schedule.”

By the end of dinner, Alaina was sharing behind-the-scenes stories from her latest films. It helped to keep her mind off the too-attractive man sitting beside her. The entire table listened and seemed completely engaged. Everyone but Evan. But she knew that just because he didn't
look
engaged didn't mean he wasn't.