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She cast Asher a worried look, but he shrugged. Then, following her PA’s suggestion, he gestured her toward the house. She hesitated then turned and disappeared inside. When he could no longer see her, he switched his attention to Harry. Who was staring at him. Intensely.
“Your family truly is blessed with incredible genes,” Harry commented as his eyes roamed over Asher. As though he was scrutinizing pieces of a puzzle. When his gaze finally met Asher’s, Asher couldn’t help but smile. A smile that turned into a laugh when Harry started fanning himself.
“Seriously,” Harry said, grabbing Asher by the wrist and dragging him into the house. “It’s unfair how good-looking you all are. But enough of that, I’m a married man. And you, my friend, must tell me everything.”
“Everything?” Asher asked as Harry continued to drag him along. They sped through various rooms, giving him only moments to take in the details of the house. Rough-hewn floors, neutral colors on walls decorated with bright art, wide walkways between the living spaces.
“Well, we’ll start with one thing,” Harry said, bringing them to a stop in a central room with a view of the lush courtyard.
“Yes?” Asher prompted.
“Do I put you in the guest room? Or Ellie’s?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Harry didn’t give you a hard time, did he? He claims he didn’t. But sometimes his ideaof a hard time isn’t the same as mine,” Ellie asked Asher as she opened a bottle of wine.
“He asked a few uncomfortable questions. But it would take a lot to make a Warwick reveal anything they didn’t want to,” he replied. He stood at the opposite counter with his back to her, prepping the meal Ricardo had left them. She heard, rather than saw, the smile in his voice.
“All that Secret Service in your life?” she teased.
“That, and the fact that if we didn’t watch what we said, it could put our family at risk. Like national-security-level risk,” he said. “With Harry, the only risk he poses is probably to your sanity. Still, I didn’t want to give him anything to use as ammunition against you. Although I suspect if I had, the only thing he would have blackmailed you into doing is buying more leggings and those toe socks you wear.” He turned around with two plates in hand. “Dinner is ready.”
She smiled. “As is the wine. Let’s go sit in the sunroom.” She gestured with her head toward the courtyard. In the winter, she closed off a section and glassed it in. It stayed warm and had gorgeous views of the city.
“Why toe socks?” she asked, setting their glasses down.
“Hm?” he asked, assessing the table—no doubt to ensure he set her plate where she’d have the best view.
“The socks,” she said. “Why would Harry blackmail me into buying more toe socks? I think they’re comfortable to wear around the house. But he thinks the things are creepy.” She grabbed her plate, the one with a smaller piece of salmon, and sat. Leaving the seat with the better view for Asher. She could see it every day. She wanted him to enjoy it the one night he had in her home.
Not pleased with her choice, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Host’s prerogative,” she added with a grin.
He huffed out a resigned breath then sat. “He’s not wrong. They are creepy. But they’re weirdly cute on you. Maybe it’s because you have such delicate feet.”
She took a sip of her wine and pondered the fact that Asher had noticed her feet. And thought that they looked cute in rainbow toe socks. She wasn’t a woman who cared for the wordcutebeing applied to her. And it almost never was—not professionally. But he hadn’t saidshewas cute. Only that the socks were cute on her. An oddly endearing thought.
With a smile, she glanced over to find Asher quietly studying his plate.
“Should I ask about the leggings?” she asked.
He ran a hand over his goatee then cleared his throat. “Um, probably not?” he replied.
She couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never seen him so flustered. Well, not exactly flustered, but edging toward it. All because he’d complimented her feet. And her body, too, if she interpreted his comment about her leggings right.
Being in the entertainment industry, people talked about her body all the time—had she gained weight, had she lost weight, was she getting a wrinkle, had she dyed her hair? And those were the benign remarks. Then there were many men who felt the need to tell her what they’d like to do to her body. Or what they’d like to dowithher body. Never what they liked abouther. Just her body. As if it were separate from her.
She blinked and drew in a breath, realizing something she hadn’t ever considered before. She picked up her wine and studied Asher as he ate a bite of salmon, his eyes trained on the view.
“You don’t like complimenting my body because you’re worried that I’ll think that’s all you see of me,” she said. Asher jerked back in his seat. Then slowly, he faced her, his amber eyes searching her face. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. She recognized that the door she’d opened might lead them into unwanted territory. No, notunwanted. That wasn’t quite right. She wanted Asher. His intelligence, his compassion, his humor. And yes, his body, too. But nothing had changed from what she’d told Sofia last week—she wasn’t in a place to start a relationship. Especially not with a man like Asher, who wouldn’t accept just her body. A man who would demand, who deserved, the real Eleanora Cavanaugh.
Asher’s jaw clenched, then he set his fork down and picked up his wineglass before speaking. “You live and work in an industry that, at times, portrays you as nothing but a commodity. I don’t know enough about your day-to-day experiences, but I have to believe that that sentiment seeps into your work life, too. And so yes, you’re right. I don’t want to be one of those people who just see your face or your body. I don’t want to be one of those people who don’t seeyou. I don’t want to disappoint you like that.”
Her heart caught in her throat. And she could find no words. He didn’t want her to view him as another person who valued her as just an object. She never would, never could—Asher was too authentic, too kind, and too genuine to be confused with any of them. But the fact that he worried about disappointing her in that way had her heart tumbling a little closer to something she thought could be love.
That possibility caught her off guard, and she took a large sip of her wine. She’d never been in love before. Lust, yes. Love, no. Never even been close. But as she watched Asher watching her, she realized she might already be halfway there.
What she’d taken as distance, she now understood was respect—respect for her and a recognition of the challenges her career imposed on her. He wanted to be sure that she knew he saw her as a person. Not as a public figure or someone he had rights to simply because of her job. Maybe he’d gone a little overboard, but she couldn’t help but be touched by the care he’d taken.
