“Most people are ass**les,” she said bluntly. “I think that’s why I prefer writing. Or baking.”
His mouth twitched and, for a hopeful moment, she thought he might smile, but it was quickly contained again. “Did you come out here to discuss the merits of books versus roses?”
“Actually, no.” She straightened and turned to face him. “I wanted to come out here and ask you if you were going to come to dinner tonight.”
“I . . .” His voice died and his gaze slid away again. “Perhaps.”
“Oh, come on,” she said softly. “I can tell you all about my day. It’s been most interesting.” Her voice had taken on a soft, almost sexy purr.
The effect on Hunter was startling. His gaze flew back to her, his eyes wide, one eyebrow lifting as if to voice the question that he wouldn’t.
She took a step closer to him, gratified when he didn’t back away. “You know all those letters I’ve been transcribing? It seems that my two historical figures had a rather torrid love affair.”
He said nothing. His was attention was frozen on her face, and she saw that strange mixture of fear and longing flicker through his eyes again.
Feeling bolder, Gretchen slid a bit closer to him, her voice husky. “What’s even better is that they describe, in rather blatant, sexual detail, what they want to do to each other. Isn’t that . . . interesting?”
Hunter’s lips parted, and Gretchen thought for a moment that he might break the distance between them and drag her against him in a wild kiss. Her pulse fluttered with excitement at the thought, and she found she desperately wanted Hunter to kiss her. Tongue the hell out of her mouth and toss her down into the dirt and claim her. She wanted to see that reserve of his shatter.
“What do you think?” she prompted.
“I . . .”
“Yes?”
He bolted away, turning his back to her. As she stood there, all soft and full of need for him, he stormed across the room and began to jerk on a pair of ugly, thick gardening gloves. “I’d like for you to leave.”
Disappointment crushed her fledgling desire. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes at his retreat. “So I take it dinner’s off?”
“I . . . no. I will think about it.” But he wouldn’t look over at her.
“Suit yourself,” she said softly. “I’m off to go read more letters. I hope to see you tonight.” She sauntered out of the greenhouse before he could say anything else.
He was an utterly frustrating and confusing man. She knew he wanted her. She’d seen the desire in his eyes. The need. He wasn’t married or dating anyone. She wasn’t either.
So why was he fighting this so very hard? It didn’t make sense.
Was it possible he just didn’t like her? That was depressing to think about. Gretchen sighed and returned to the library, discouraged and unhappy.
She worked quietly for hours, cataloging letters and reading through them. Engrossed in her project, she didn’t notice that someone had entered the room until the door clicked shut again. Her head lifted, and her gaze settled on a tray that had been left on a table across the room.
It was a vase filled with roses. Every single one she’d casually touched this morning while in his greenhouse had been cut and placed in a gorgeous crystal vase. Unable to help herself, Gretchen moved to the roses and leaned over to take in their scent.
A note was on the table.
I will be there.
Gretchen smiled to herself. Maybe Hunter was interested after all.
***
“It sounds like he likes you,” Audrey told her over the phone. “But it sounds like he’s shy.”
“You think so?” Gretchen dragged one of her T-shirts out of the closet and winced at how ratty it looked. Why hadn’t she brought more dresses? “He’s just so hard to predict. I can’t forget how he freaked out when I asked him about his face.”
“Maybe he’s just a loner. I mean, he’s friends with Logan and his buddies, but out of all of them, he’s the most remote. Doesn’t attend any parties they give or anything.”
“He’s definitely a loner,” Gretchen agreed. “But there’s something so incredibly . . . remote about him. Most loners seem happy to be by themselves. He just seems a bit lost.”
“Yeah, Logan says that he’s not the friendliest guy, but he’s very true once he lets someone in. He’s always very polite to me, though.”
She’d forgotten the fact that Audrey’s boss was friends with Hunter. “I didn’t think he ever left this house.” She thought of what he’d told her—the kidnapping. His utter loneliness. The way that the staff kept to assigned wings so as not to “bother” him.
Gretchen had never met someone quite so alone as him. It made him strangely vulnerable despite his icy demeanor, and it fascinated her as much as it made her want to touch him. Show him that he wasn’t alone and unlovable.
“Of course he leaves his house, Gretch. He has a billion-dollar real estate empire.”
“Yeah, but does he have to do anything for that other than just, I don’t know, own property?”
Audrey giggled. “You really have no idea how billionaires work, do you?”
“I don’t want to know, honestly. All that money just seems like a lot of hassle.” She pulled a plain black sweater out of the closet and held it against her. A bit worn, but it’d have to do. “So did Logan tell you about his past? The thing with the scars and the kidnapping?”
“Nope. No one talks about it, apparently. No one except you.”
“Yeah, me and my big mouth.” She tossed the sweater down on the bed, and it landed on a curled-up Igor, who meowed in resentment. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked. But I was curious.”
“Well, leave your curiosity at the door. From what I can remember from meeting him, he doesn’t like it if people so much as look at him the wrong way.”
“Jeez, Audrey, exactly how many times have you met this guy?”
“A handful of times. Like I said, he’s one of Logan’s closest friends.”
“And you never thought to give your sister the cliff notes rundown on the man?”
“Well gee, Gretchen, I didn’t think you’d want to bang the guy.”
She sighed deeply. “Is it weird that I’m finding the scars sexy?”