Desire: Love and Passion (4 page)

             
She moved the hand on the side of his face and he reached for it, caught it. He held her hand for a moment. They were only a few inches apart. He wondered if she would run if he kissed her. 
Oh, how h
e wanted to kiss her. It wasn't the first time he'd thought of it since opening the door. The beep from the oven sounded
, shattering the moment
.

             
"Sounds like breakfast is almost ready," she said.

             
Her voice sounded lower,
throat
ier
. He wondered if she
’d
thought about kissing him
,
too.  Her eyes held no answer
to his silent inquiry
. Her hand slipped out of his. She walked back to the counter where the coffee pot gurgled its dark brew.

             
Willow set a table on the deck
just outside the kitchen.
There was a picturesque view of the backwoods just
beyond the house. H
er house was backed up to
one side of the national par
k. There was a man-made waterfall on the large deck. The sound of the water weaving its way through the rocks was musically
soothing
. He heard birds and was mildly surprise. This wooded respite may feel like the country but it was not entirely so.

             
"I never hear that many birds from my house," he said taking a seat.

             
"John built an aviary a while ago. I think he was having a mid-life crisis."

             
Willow bit into her omelet.
He was right, i
t was good.

             
"Uh hum, uh hum, hum," she said taking a swallow. "You're almost forgiven for wrecking my car. This is one of the best omelets I have ever tasted."

             
"Thank you. Now tell me more about this occasionally thing."

             
Willow almost choked on her last bite.

             
"I’
m starting to think dinner is not such a good idea," she said after a minute.

             
"Does occasionally mean you have someone you are interested in but don't know where that relationship is going? Or you are not interested in a relationship but like having a companion?"

             
"The latter."

             
"I thought all girls wanted to grow up, meet Prince Charming and get married," James said.

             
"That’s purely
the stuff
of
bedtime stories," Willow said. "I thought all boys
wanted to be Prince Charming.
You
were
Prince Charming before you gave it up. I mean the Prince part
at least
.
Relationships are complicated and
I like things simple."
             

             
"Do your dates think that way?"

             
"I don't know how my dates think," she said
honestly
.  "As John used to say, that calls for the operation of someone else’s mind.
How about you Mr. Monroe? D
o your dates know they won't be coming back the morning after?"

             
"Yes."

             
James found her honesty
surprisingly
refreshing.

Chapter 3

Willow was taken to the property in a tinted private sedan. The property
itself
was about a mile away through
heavily
treed terrain
; it was indeed a tr
ue hideaway. The brick walls that marked the boundaries were masterfully disguised be
hind perfectly manicured hedges and a heavy
wrought iron gate swung open as the car approached.

There was a manned security booth with
hi-tech
cameras and scanners
giving the place the look of
a fortress. She wondered how he got out. The massive expanse of deep green lawn was parted by a
curvy cobblestone
driveway
, which the
car lumbered lazily around. The house did not come fully into view at the entrance. The trees that fanned the front were expertly placed to lend privacy to the house and its occupants.

The car took a small bend and
then
the mansion came into view. It was a beautiful Victorian masonry two story house that sprawled out against a backdrop of
dense
woods. They came to a stop outside a carriage house
, right
in front of the vehicle James
had been driving that
morning, as well as three other vehicles. The carriage house itself had four garage doors.

The driver opened the door for her and she climbed out. He led her along a cobblestoned path and to the front of the main house. She supposed
it was the
main house, because to the left and right of the porticoed entrance were what appeared to be townhomes. They were all connected by a cobblestone walkway, but each having individual doors. 

             
The driver, who had introduced himself as Giles, opened the front door for her.
When s
he stepped inside
, t
he door closed softly behind her. Willow stood in the grand entrance way looking around.

“The coat room is to the left,” she heard his voice coming from someplace else in the house.

She stowed her purse and coat, then took a moment to marvel at the house. T
he entrance way where she stood
was lighted by two large globes hanging from chains that themselves hung from the mouths of dragons.

Directly in front of her was a large room. The dark wood of the floor boards that highlighted the perimeter
of the room gleamed like onyx.
The contrasting gray marble tiles added depth and brightness
to the room
. Wide Victorian squat stairs were to the right of the room
; t
he staircase curved along the wall as if it were some giant snake.  The room itself had a high ceiling
and from that high ceiling hung a grand chandelier the likes of which Willow had never see.
Bright white LED lights gave the
room the
appearance of daylight.

“Straight ahead and to the left,” she heard him shouting. “I’m sorry just a little tied up back here.”

She followed the directions, passing through the room that emptied into another large hallway. To the left, was a short passageway and to the right, a door. Directly ahead, were glass doors and windows. They were fashionable draped
as one would expect in such a house
.

The short corridor to the left
dumped her into
the
galley way
of
a huge kitchen. The kitchen was built for someone who enjoyed cooking and enjoyed company while cooking.  The massive wrap around island had
a
serve top
and
space
to seat
at least a dozen people. He was facing her direction, a plume of steam rising from a pot he
’d
opened.

“That smells good,” she said.

“I hope you like it."

“What are we having?”

“Pasta and my unique, secret meat sauce.”

“Do y
ou need a hand with anything?” s
he volunteered.

             
"If you don't mind fetching the bread from the oven," James said.

             
James noticed she wore stockings below her mini-skirt. Her blouse was long but its v-cut showed enough to be flirty b
ut
not over the top. Her hair was caught behind her in a loose bun. As he watched her place fresh garlic rolls on the platter he provided, he wondered if the stocking ended in laced top and garter. He wondered if she
’d
dressed for him tonight.

             
"You're staring," she said without looking up.

             
"I…I…." 

She caught him off guard.

             
"If you don't stare, I won't," she said.

             
"You are infinitely more pleasing to the eyes."

             
"And you are infinitely more interesting."

             
They were dining in an enclosed outdoor living area. The table was set for two. A patio heater kept the area warm, without being stuffy. The outdoor living area had a clear glass roof, massive glass windows that automatically retracted, leaving the area open when desired or fully enclosed as it was now. This was truly a luxurious lifestyle.

He lit two candles before they sat. There was a wonderful view of the evening sky beyond the glass as the last glow of the sun danced between trees.

             
"Is a casual dinner always this elaborate?"
s
he asked looking at the two course spread.

             
"I like to dine as if there's always someone across the table
from me
," he admitted. "Of course, it is better when there is actually someone across the table. Especially if that someone looks like you."

             
"Thank you
, you’re too kind
. I thought you lived at St. James Place.”

             
“I have a flat and an office there.”

             
“I like to think I know a lot about politics and celebrities, but I never knew you had a house in this part of London.”

             
“I’v
e never had anyone here except my staff,” he said.

             
“Until now,” she added.

             
“Yes, until you.”

             
“I promise your secret is safe with me,” she said.  “Besides, it’s as I told Larry, my privacy is every bit as valuable as yours.”

             
“And I am grateful for that.”

             
“How do you do it?”
s
he asked.

             
“Do what?”

             
“Keep this a secret.”

             
“If I told you that, you would have to stay.”

             
“Let’s have a toast,” she proposed holding up her glass of white wine. “To being good neighbors.”

             
“To new friends,” he said as his glass touched hers.

             
They talked about the lighter side of the news over dinner. James flinched every time she would look
up at him from those long lashes
that seemed to fan out and brush her cheeks when she looked down. The light
ing
played beautifully on her face.

             
"So besides cooking and driving like a maniac, what other hobbies do you have?" She asked.

             
"I'm not going to live down th
at
accident, am I?"

             
"That depends on how
many Brownie points you earn.
You currently have two
, o
ne for breakfast and one for dinner."

             
"How many points do I have to earn?" 

             
"Let's say ten," she said l
ooking directly into his eyes.
"There are massive points for fixing my car quickly."

             
"So a week's worth of breakfast, lunches and dinner should solve it," he said.

             
"No way," she said.
"Brownie points are unique.
But
, I
think you have more pressing matters on your plate than hanging out with your neighbor."

             
"That all depends on how I structure my plate," he
retorted
.

             
"I think the people like your plate just fine," Willow replied. "So what other adventures do you gets up to?"

             
"Reading," he replied. "I like to catch up on history, I have developed a love for science fiction movies and I play tennis with Martin and his wife."