“I didn’t mean that-”
“It’s okay,” she said again, her voice insistent. “Let’s just eat.”
That shut Stone up for a while. This was something she was obviously sensitive about and pressing her further would only make things worse. As much as he found every inch of her to be a tantalizing treat now was not the time to tell her that. She would think he was just trying to make her feel better. Great going, Stone, you just put your size twelve foot in it. Wanting to melt her frosty mood, Stone turned on the CD player and the sounds of Shania Twain's 'From This Moment' filled the room. The soothing sounds should calm her down. As he went to pull out her chair he saw that her mouth was just a little less tight and the furrow between her brows gone. Whew.
He lifted the white wine from its bed of ice and poured her a glass. Then he got the meal from the oven – salmon in a light lemon sauce with wild rice and a vegetable medley. Indie’s eyes widened at the sight of the elegantly prepared trays. “Cook did this?”
“Yep. A man of many talents. He can serve the Queen of England, if called on.”
Indie nodded. “I have no doubt.”
After that, it was as if that awkward moment had never happened. They fell into easy conversation, with Indie plying him with questions about his family back in Canada. He told her about his older sister who lived in Vancouver and was a professor of Medieval History at the university there, and his younger brother, also a businessman, who had moved to Australia with his young wife and infant son. And then there were his mom and dad, stalwarts in the Toronto community, members of the Chamber of Commerce and philanthropists in their own right.
“The Hudson wing at the Toronto City Hospital is named after them."
“So that’s where you get it from, this philanthropy thing."
He shrugged. “I do my own thing.”
“Yes, you do,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper that made Stone wonder if they were still talking about philanthropy. Somehow, it didn’t sound like it.
Indie had leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her hands folded in front of her, her chin resting on those folded hands. And she was looking at him with half closed eyes, her lips slightly parted.
And if she kept that up she was going to get a whole lot more than dinner tonight.
Stone clenched and unclenched his hands under the table. If Indie only knew what he wanted to do right now. Then again, maybe she already did, and that was why she was playing temptress tonight. And he wanted to make a move, no doubt about that. But he had to be sure.
“All right,” Stone said, picking up his napkin and giving a last swipe at his lips, “looks like we’re done here.” He got up and held out his hand to Indie. “Why don’t we head to the living room? There’s something I want to show you.”
“Oh. All right.” Indie took his hand and rose to stand beside him.
It took a whole lot of willpower for him not to drag her into his arms and kiss her breathless. But no, now was not the time.
Stone led Indie to the small sofa in the living room then crouched down in front of the VCR on the TV stand.
“Old movies,” Indie guessed.
“Yes, but not just any old movies. My old movies.” Stone slid the first tape in, pressed play then went to sit at the other end of the couch. “These are recordings of my earlier trips to South Africa. I made a lot of cultural mistakes and maybe you can learn from some of them. And I had a lot of fun.”
They settled back in the chair and watched shots of Stone arriving in South Africa, meeting with government officials, then his first meeting with Moekebi. The child was thin but with eyes so bright and full of life you couldn’t help but be buoyed up by his spirit. Then there was the opening of the boys’ home and the installation of the teachers. And, to Stone’s horror, there was also a clipping of him in native dress doing a traditional dance. He’d forgotten about that.
Indie howled with laughter at that one. “Oh, my Lord, what were you thinking?” She was laughing so much tears filled her eyes. “No, that was not the act of Stone Hudson. That had to be Gladstone doing that dance. There’s no way a ‘Stone’ would be doing that. You can’t even dance!” And with that she burst into peels of laughter again.
“You’d better take that back,” he growled. “Or else.”
“Or else what?” Her mouth curled in amusement and defiance.
“Or else you’ll be punished,” he said, moving closer.
“Yeah? How?” she challenged, her eyes flashing in the light.
“Like this,” he said with a groan, then he was reaching for her, unable to deny himself any longer. He dragged Indie off the sofa and onto his lap and then he dipped his head and was kissing her with all the desire he’d been holding back for so long. As his arms circled her, pulling her close, his mouth held hers captive, demanding her response, and when she gave it, kissing him back with a fervor matching his own, he moaned.
When Stone finally lifted his head and looked into Indie’s eyes they were no longer sharp but had turned misty-green with passion. She sighed and leaned against him, soft and pliable in his arms.
It was too much. He lowered his head and kissed her again, this time more softly, more sweetly, more deeply, until she was clinging to him.
“Stone,” Indie whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Stone’s heart swelled inside him. Indie wanted him. Could it be possible that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her? He could only hope. But her whisper was enough to give him that hope.
“Oh God, Indie,” he groaned. “I want you…too much. But I’ve got to stop now or else…” He didn’t say the rest. He knew exactly where this would end if he didn’t regain control. Stone slid Indie off his lap and back onto the sofa. Then he got up and shoved his hands into his pockets. As he looked down at her he shook his head.
“It’s okay,” she said with a small smile. “I understand.” She got up and reached out to touch his arm. “Walk me to the door?”