Page 28 of Dreams That Bind Us
He glanced at his phone one more time, praying he wouldn't see a text from her saying something had come up. Scoffing, he shook his head. This was definitely becoming his new normal.
There had never been a time when he'd been this worked up over a woman; planning, pacing, and worrying had become his full-time job. This afternoon alone, he'd made five trips to the grocery store in a four-hour span, made three revisions to the dinner menu, and had at least two outfit changes.
Pretty damned pathetic. I’m a New York real estate mogul for Christ’s sake!
But there was something about Anna aside from the erotic dreams he had of her every night. Something that pulled him in like a moth to the flame. It wasn't just her ethereal beauty, and there was plenty to talk about there, but rather the intelligence and hint of vulnerability in her eyes, the spine of steel, the hint of vixen he could see in her demeanor.
She was such a mystery, and he wanted to peel back each layer to learn every desire and secret she held so he could make them come to life.
But would she let him?
Just then, a deep rumble drew his gaze to the left. His shoulders dropped and a sigh of reliefwhooshedout of him as Anna's truck parked in front of his house. Like its owner, the antique Power Wagon was rare beauty with its two-tone grayish-silver hood and cherry red side body and truck bed.
It rode high, looking more like a jeep with a four-inch lift, and he found it amazing that Anna could even climb into the cab without assistance. But he'd watched her launch herself into the driver’s seat just last night.
He huffed a soft laugh, watching as she craned her neck to look up at the house. Her reluctance was palpable, but he wasn't about to back down. She was softening to him and with any luck, he'd ramp up the heat even more tonight.
Just the thought of her walking through this house brought a strong sense of satisfaction, as if she'd be where she belonged. He only had to find a way for her to admit it to herself.
Anna finally climbed out of the truck and rounded the front end. He smiled as his eyes drank in her small frame encased in practical khaki work pants, an open blue, button-down shirt, with a white tank top underneath that molded to her breasts. Despite the utilitarian nature of the outfit, it emphasized her figure. Her curly, white-blonde hair was tied back in a high ponytail that highlighted her delicate cheekbones.
She looked comfortable and perfect, like something he wanted to devour and could never get enough of. It was obvious she'd come directly from her workshop and he didn't feel an ounce of regret making her work so much.
She clutched a small book in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. James huffed out a breath. He'd told her not to bring anything, stubborn girl. But it said a lot that she’d been thoughtful enough to think of something. And frankly, he was just happy she was finally here.
At this point, I'll take what I can get.
He rushed down the stairs as the doorbell rang and swung the door wide, knowing full well a goofy grin was splayed across his face. He couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Anna," he breathed out, his voice strangely guttural. Her sweet, honeysuckle scent danced around his head, making him dizzy, and he fought the urge to pull her close and bury his nose in her hair. He watched with satisfaction as her beautiful teal eyes dilated and her plump bottom lip dropped slightly, as if his voice was an aphrodisiac.
Anna didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared as if hypnotized. Her normal frown was gone, and instead she appeared bewildered. Again, he'd take that as a win.
James swept his arm toward the living room. "Please. Come in."
She blinked and stepped in, glancing around as her eyes scanned the large front room. Was she looking for booby traps or expecting to be ambushed?
He bit back a chuckle at the thought.
She shoved the wine bottle toward him. "Here. I picked this up for you."
James glanced at the label, his brows shooting up. It was a rose' from a winery he'd never heard of before, not something a shopper would see every day.
"Huh. It's from Long Island." He read the label, turning the colorful bottle this way and that. "Where did you find this?"
She pointed over her shoulder, looking uncomfortable. "There's a little shop down on Simonton Street that has the best wines you'll find. It can be a little pricey at times." She shrugged. "But it's worth it. The shop owner really knows what he’s doing."
She tapped the bottle. "This one is my favorite. I thought you might like it since it's close to your home."
He didn't correct her and again marveled at her thoughtfulness. Key West was now his home, though she couldn’t be faulted for focusing on his past. He smiled, noting again how tiny she really was, how the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. If he didn’t know better from his dreams, he would wonder if they would even fit together.
"It looks great. Thank you."
Neither moved for several moments, both quietly drinking each other in. Finally, she held up the small, white book in her hand. "This is for you, too."
She stepped closer and turned so he could see the book as she thumbed through it, describing the content. Her words became a buzz and focus was impossible. Her arm repeatedly brushed his side as she turned the pages and he fought the urge to lean into her.
Damn, I’ve got it bad.
