intimidating. Dr. Lindsay Swan was out of his league.
“Twenty-five minutes? More like twenty-two,” she chided, stepping back so he could enter.
“I tried,” he confessed, lifting his shoulders in a what-are-you-going-to-do? way. “And it was obviously long enough. You look good enough to eat.”
Ah, there was a little of his mojo back. Her cheeks colored prettily as her gaze skittered away from his.
The door shut behind her. Matt handed over the bag with the wine and chocolate. “I thought we might relax with a glass of wine first,” he suggested.
“First?” She lifted her eyebrows as she took the bag.
“Well…you know.” And didn’t he feel himself blush, the heat rising to his cheeks. Him . Blushing over a woman. He cleared his throat. “You want me to open it?”
“I can do it. Come on through.”
He followed her into the house. It was as gorgeous and classic as she was. She’d kept the dark woodwork but the walls were painted a pale, sage green. The floor was the same dark wood as the trim and banister that led up the stairs. To her room? Would he be making that trip later this evening?
The kitchen was at the back of the house and large windows made it much lighter and cheerier than the hall he’d just come through. Plants sat on deep sills, making the room seem more like a sun room than a kitchen. A carpet cat tree was in the corner, a few toys at the base.
“Mr. Boots,” she explained, following the line of his gaze. “He’s a rescue and fairly shy of strangers, so you may or may not even see him. He’ll probably hide out in the basement.”
She pulled the wine out of the bag and opened a drawer to retrieve a corkscrew. “Glasses are in there.” She nodded towards a glass-fronted cupboard. He reached inside and took out two gorgeous blown-glass goblets, deep red with gold accents.
“These are nice,” he commented, putting them down on the counter.
She poured the wine and smiled. “I got them a few summers ago from this little shop in Cape Breton. If they hadn’t been so dear I would have bought a whole set.” She held up her glass. “What are we toasting, Corporal Parker?”
He met her gaze. “Schedules that finally match up,” he murmured, touching the rim of his glass to hers. He took a deep sip of the wine, tasted the ripe fruit and chocolaty notes on his tongue.
“I was starting to think you didn’t like me,” she pouted, curling her lip down in an exaggerated expression.
“I was on nights, remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
“And I came by on Sunday but you weren’t here.”
A shadow passed over her face but she erased it by pinning on an unconvincing smile. “Oh, well, I had some errands to run.”
She took another sip of wine as the air grew uncomfortable. “Do you want to go into the living room and sit?”
He thought he’d rather throw her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs and forget the wine altogether, but that was a bit caveman-ish and she was clearly skittish. “Sure.”
Her living room was, for lack of a better word, rich. Not in the expensive sense, but in the feel of it. The dark wood was here too, and a huge throw rug covered the middle of the floor. It looked like an antique, the rich navy, burgundy and brown tones faded with age. Tasselled drapes hung at the windows and the sofa and flanking armchairs had curled arms and tufted seats—not that he could name the period or style, that wasn’t his thing. But they were old and not knock offs—he understood that well enough. As was the large bookcase against one wall, the books inside protected by glass doors.
“Is this all original?”
She smiled. “Some of it is. Some I was able to purchase. I add a piece here and there, but my budget is pretty limited. Most of the money goes to upkeep rather than decoration.”
“It’s like stepping back in time.”
Her smiled widened. “Do you think so?”
He nodded. “No TV?”
She chuckled. “With just me here, I only have one and it’s
“Twenty-five minutes? More like twenty-two,” she chided, stepping back so he could enter.
“I tried,” he confessed, lifting his shoulders in a what-are-you-going-to-do? way. “And it was obviously long enough. You look good enough to eat.”
Ah, there was a little of his mojo back. Her cheeks colored prettily as her gaze skittered away from his.
The door shut behind her. Matt handed over the bag with the wine and chocolate. “I thought we might relax with a glass of wine first,” he suggested.
“First?” She lifted her eyebrows as she took the bag.
“Well…you know.” And didn’t he feel himself blush, the heat rising to his cheeks. Him . Blushing over a woman. He cleared his throat. “You want me to open it?”
“I can do it. Come on through.”
He followed her into the house. It was as gorgeous and classic as she was. She’d kept the dark woodwork but the walls were painted a pale, sage green. The floor was the same dark wood as the trim and banister that led up the stairs. To her room? Would he be making that trip later this evening?
The kitchen was at the back of the house and large windows made it much lighter and cheerier than the hall he’d just come through. Plants sat on deep sills, making the room seem more like a sun room than a kitchen. A carpet cat tree was in the corner, a few toys at the base.
“Mr. Boots,” she explained, following the line of his gaze. “He’s a rescue and fairly shy of strangers, so you may or may not even see him. He’ll probably hide out in the basement.”
She pulled the wine out of the bag and opened a drawer to retrieve a corkscrew. “Glasses are in there.” She nodded towards a glass-fronted cupboard. He reached inside and took out two gorgeous blown-glass goblets, deep red with gold accents.
“These are nice,” he commented, putting them down on the counter.
She poured the wine and smiled. “I got them a few summers ago from this little shop in Cape Breton. If they hadn’t been so dear I would have bought a whole set.” She held up her glass. “What are we toasting, Corporal Parker?”
He met her gaze. “Schedules that finally match up,” he murmured, touching the rim of his glass to hers. He took a deep sip of the wine, tasted the ripe fruit and chocolaty notes on his tongue.
“I was starting to think you didn’t like me,” she pouted, curling her lip down in an exaggerated expression.
“I was on nights, remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
“And I came by on Sunday but you weren’t here.”
A shadow passed over her face but she erased it by pinning on an unconvincing smile. “Oh, well, I had some errands to run.”
She took another sip of wine as the air grew uncomfortable. “Do you want to go into the living room and sit?”
He thought he’d rather throw her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs and forget the wine altogether, but that was a bit caveman-ish and she was clearly skittish. “Sure.”
Her living room was, for lack of a better word, rich. Not in the expensive sense, but in the feel of it. The dark wood was here too, and a huge throw rug covered the middle of the floor. It looked like an antique, the rich navy, burgundy and brown tones faded with age. Tasselled drapes hung at the windows and the sofa and flanking armchairs had curled arms and tufted seats—not that he could name the period or style, that wasn’t his thing. But they were old and not knock offs—he understood that well enough. As was the large bookcase against one wall, the books inside protected by glass doors.
“Is this all original?”
She smiled. “Some of it is. Some I was able to purchase. I add a piece here and there, but my budget is pretty limited. Most of the money goes to upkeep rather than decoration.”
“It’s like stepping back in time.”
Her smiled widened. “Do you think so?”
He nodded. “No TV?”
She chuckled. “With just me here, I only have one and it’s
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