Page 73 of I Do, I Do, I Do
He laughed. “Banking in the West isn’t the gentleman’s profession that it is back East.”
“I thought you…I…” She had never imagined that he was anyone other than who he appeared to be, a stampeder hoping to find salvation in the gold fields of the frozen north.
“Frankly, I was pleased that you didn’t recognize my name. I didn’t want my background known. Most of the prospectors we’ve met are desperate men. I doubt they’d look kindly on a competitor who doesn’t care if he ever sees a gold nugget. And there was another reason I preferred not to mention that I’m your banker.” He hesitated, and his expression sobered. “You have a substantial inheritance, Juliette, but…”
“Butyourfortune is far greater.” It took a moment, but the significance sank into her mind. “My heavens! You feared if I knew the truth, I might be more interested in your wealth than in you!” She stared at him before bursting into laughter. “Oh, Ben.”
After she’d caught her breath, Ben turned her hand and ran his thumb along her gloved palm. “The thought occurred to me, but not immediately. When I discovered you aboard theAnnasett, I considered the coincidence remarkable. That the first woman who had caught my eye in a year kept crossing my path. But I didn’t anticipate that you and I would…” He smiled and shrugged.
“But why did you come to the Yukon?”
“It was time to start living again,” he said simply. “I wanted something outside the day-to-day routine, something physically demanding. I wanted an event to mark the end of one life and the beginning of another.”
“Has that happened?” she asked, laying a hand on his arm.
“Oh, yes,” he said, looking into her eyes. When she blushed bright pink, he released her hand and reached for his sherry. “Why did you come to the Yukon? You’ve never said.”
This question would be difficult to answer truthfully. “I began the journey looking for someone. Now I know I don’t want to find that person,” she said in a whisper. Quickly she rushed past the enigmatic statement. “I was just…swept into this.” She shook her head. “Clara first mentioned the Yukon,” she explained carefully, “and Zoe insisted that we come.”
“Are they looking for someone, too?”
“I’m truly sorry, Ben, but I can’t explain further.”
Curiosity curved along his raised eyebrow, but he nodded. “Someday I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough with me to share your secrets.”
A wobbly smile curved her mouth. “I wish I could confide in you, but other people are involved.”
They finished their sherry in silence. Juliette imagined that Ben struggled with his disappointment in secretiveness while she fought to stamp down attitudes she had vowed to set aside for tonight. She absolutely would not think about Jean Jacques Villette—or the morality or propriety of being with Ben.
When he spoke again, Juliette understood with relief that she hadn’t spoiled their evening. He wouldn’t press about her secret, nor would he hold it against her.
“I considered asking one of Tom’s Chilkats to serve tonight, but decided I didn’t want anyone present but you and me. I hope you don’t mind that we’ll dine more casually than formally—I’ll be setting the table and serving.”
How considerate he was. The cabin was far enough from Main Street that no one had seen her enter and no one would see her depart. There would be no one present to gossip later about what they had said to each other.
“I’m willing to help. I’d be happy to set the table.”
They both rose at the same moment and froze, aware they stood too close. Juliette inhaled the tangy scent of men’s cologne and laundry starch and the sweetness of sherry on his breath. She sensed his strength and masculinity.
At the instant she thought the intensity of his gaze would make her swoon, he bent his head and kissed her again, as lightly as before, testing her response. And as before, his kiss set her mouth on fire and flashed a searing heat through her body. This time she experienced a pang of frustration. Suddenly she wanted him to really kiss her, hard and passionately.
He drew a finger down her cheek, trailing warmth. “You’re my guest. I don’t want you to do anything except enjoy the evening.”
When she was certain her legs would perform without wobbling, she followed him to a round table separated from the kitchen by a counter and watched him shake out a snowy damask tablecloth. She loved damask, the elegant look, the sensual feel of it. He smoothed the cloth on the table and adjusted the overhang to precisely eighteen inches, exactly correct. When she raised her gaze, she discovered he was watching her eyes widen, aware that the cloth and its fit would please her.
Smiling, he placed a vase containing an arrangement of dried lupin, iris, and columbines in the center of the table and framed it between two tall white candles.
Juliette pressed a hand over her heart. The dried flower arrangement was low enough that they would see each other above it. Attention to these small details made the difference between a delightful dining experience and disappointment. Not to mention that she had not seen a centerpiece during the course of this journey. Inhaling a deep breath that was almost a sigh, she edged closer to the table.
“It must be beautiful up here in the spring and summer,” he remarked, indicating the dried flowers.
“What? Oh, yes, I suppose it is,” she murmured, surprised to discover that she sounded a little breathless.
But good heavens, a long time had passed since she had dressed for dinner and sat down to a properly clad table with candles and a centerpiece. The excitement of it trembled at the corners of her lips.
Watching her, Ben snapped open a napkin—and she knew at once that it was exactly 121 inches square. Oh, the joy of a proper napkin, the thrill of it. And then—then, in a move that made her stomach tighten in a shudder of bliss, he folded the napkins and placed them on the table to the left of where the forks would go. With the fold of the napkin facing out. Oh, my Lord.
Juliette drew a rapturous breath. “There’s nothing as soul-satisfying as a properly laid table,” she whispered. And nothing as incredibly seductive as watching a handsome man demonstrate his firm command of etiquette. It was utterly erotic. And who could help feeling aroused? The cloth overhang was exactly right. So was the size of the napkins. And he had placed them with the fold facing out.
