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But then, he found her mere presence annoying, he decided. He hadn’t meant to call her down when her guests arrived—despite her instructions. He’d intended to avoid her entirely for the rest of the evening. But here she was, anyway.
“I hope you had a nice trip,” Lanie was saying. She still hadn’t looked at him.
He, on the other hand, was having a hard time taking his eyes off her.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Berringer replied. She was a heavyset woman and the sofa made a groaning noise when she sat down on it. “But I’m so glad to be here.”
She reached for one of the canapеs artfully arranged on a tray on the coffee table. Garrett had placed the tray of appetizers out, just as Lanie had instructed.
Mr. Berringer settled into an armchair.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Lanie indicated a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket near the canapеs. Another tray held several glasses.
The Berringers accepted, and Lanie sat down, leaning forward to pour the wine into the glasses. Garrett watched her long hair fall over her bare shoulders in shimmery, touchable waves. Unbidden came the urge to reach out, to wrap a finger around one of those locks, to discover just how soft and touchable they really were....
Garrett’s chest tightened, and he realized he’d almost forgotten to breathe. This whole domestic setup was doing a number on his brain, he told himself. Either that, or she was, indeed, a sorceress.
“I’ll take these things upstairs,” he announced abruptly.
He grabbed the bags and bounded up the creaking, narrow stairs. When he came back down, he found Mrs. Berringer stuffing a canapе into her mouth and Lanie in the middle of what sounded like a history of the house.
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