“And you coin new terms. Impressive.” Sarah laughed and watched her hurry back into the kitchen. “Can I help?”
“Sure, grab the bubbly and glasses off the counter and meet me on the picnic grounds in twenty seconds with an appetite.”
As they sat across from each other, Sarah’s eyes moved appreciatively over the plate of food she was handed. “You made all of this yourself?”
“Guilty. Would you like the rundown?”
“Oh, I think I need to hear the rundown.”
“Okay, here goes. For your dining pleasure, we have pecan crusted fried chicken, tomato and bean salad with a blue cheese chive dressing, and that on the left is a warm apple tart. All the great picnic foods represented.” Emory smiled and there were those damn dimples. Sarah loved seeing the excitement she clearly took in this “excursion.” It was a side of Emory she’d only glimpsed up until that point. She wanted to reach across the blanket and pinch her adorably sexy cheek.
“Why are you so good at everything? It’s a little frustrating. I can’t believe you made fancy fried chicken. Who even knew it could be fancy? It’s one of my favorite foods, by the way.”
Emory seemed to sit a little taller with that information. “Really? I had no idea. I took a shot.”
Sarah ate the meal slowly because it honestly tasted just as good as it looked.
“So let’s talk more about what you do when you’re not playing the role of high-powered business executive. I know a little already. Cooking, running, no painting, which is a travesty. But there’s bound to be more.”
Emory contemplated the question. “There isn’t. I work a lot. Not a ton of down time.”
“Okay, got it. But what do you like to do? If there were all the time in the world.”
“That’s a hard one. I like to read. I wish I had more time for that.”
“What’s your favorite book?”
“It’s juvenile. You’ll laugh.”
“I will not. Tell me.”
“Louisa May Alcott. Little Women.”
Sarah covered her mouth. “I love that book. I must have read it seventeen times.”
“When I read it as a kid, I used to imagine I was one of the sisters and Marmie was my mother. She would oversee my homework and tuck me into bed at night, and I can’t believe I just told you that.” Emory shook her head in wonder and stared down at her plate, her cheeks reddening.
“I love that you just told me that.”
“What about you? What’s yours?”
“I like all the great romances. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, and oh, Gone With the Wind. Love that one. Then there’s the movie version. The scene when Scarlett enters the birthday party in that red gown looking anxious but defiant, I’m so right there.”
“That is a great scene.”
“I dressed up as her once for Halloween. I was a hit.”
“I’m sure you were. How old were you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Emory laughed and Sarah reveled in the sound of it.
“So what else do you partake in, Emory? Quail hunting, international espionage, synchronized swimming?”
“Nope. I’m utterly boring.”
“You’re not, and believe me, I keep waiting for the moment you are.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time for that, right?”
Sarah looked up from her champagne and grinned. Her tone softened noticeably. “Yeah, I guess there is.”
Sarah loved how easy it was to talk to Emory. They’d developed a quick cadence between them that was comfortable and fun. She enjoyed the humor they shared and even appreciated their different perspectives on things. Emory knew aspects of life she never had a clue about and vice versa. It was enthralling.
The wind picked up considerably during the meal and Sarah felt the house shake periodically from the strength of the gusts. As they cleared the dishes, she gazed out at the darkness of the angry looking surf. “Are you at all concerned about your windows?” she finally asked. “This house is made of a lot of glass.”
“Not to worry. It’s all been reinforced many times over, a necessity for living where I do. I did tether down the patio furniture before it started to rain though. I hope I did a good enough job or you might see one of the deck chairs fly away to Oz. Other than that, the house is completely secure. Do storms scare you?”
“Not usually. I’ve always thought they were kind of cool, but then I’ve never actually been right on the water for one.” At that, a very loud, ominous clap of thunder struck causing Emory to jump noticeably.
Sarah raised a speculative eyebrow. “Do they scare you?”
“Not a chance.” Emory shrugged quickly and went about busily tidying up the kitchen. Sarah observed for a moment before moving to her and resting her hands on Emory’s waist from behind. “Fess up. Do storms freak you out?”
Emory turned in Sarah’s arms and blew out a breath. “A little. But don’t tell anyone. A CEO who’s afraid of a little thunder could inspire a few jokes at the office.”
“Luckily, I like it when you and I share secrets and would never jeopardize that.”
Emory gently fluffed Sarah’s hair. “In all fairness, you should have to tell me a secret now.”
“Is that right? That would even things out for you?”
Emory smiled and nodded decisively. “It would.”
“Okay. What if I told you that I was nervous?”
“Nervous about what?” Emory took a step back to see her better.
“Nervous about us…tonight.”
Emory nodded, took Sarah’s hand, and kissed the back of it. “Tonight doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be, and I mean that. I just want to spend time with you, Sarah, and be with you in whatever way makes you comfortable. I have Scrabble in the closet, and I don’t want to brag, but I’m really good. We could play until two a.m. and I would have the best time in the world because it would be us, together.”
Sarah was touched. The truth was that she hadn’t been nervous until somewhere in the midst of dinner. She knew she wanted Emory, but the logistics had her head spinning a tad. It had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and it was possible she was suffering from a little stage fright. But now, hearing the gentle tone in Emory’s voice was enough to cause a physical ache in her throat, and it was all the reassurance she needed.
She moved into Emory’s arms and stayed there, wondering how she’d gone so long without Emory in her life. She pulled back and met Emory’s eyes with a very serious stare. “While Scrabble sounds like a blast, I think I’ll take a rain check.” A long pause. “Did you catch that? Rain…check?” At Emory’s burst of laughter and subsequent poke in the ribs, Sarah scampered away gleefully to sit by the fire, snatching up her champagne glass as she went.
Emory refilled her own glass and joined Sarah on the floor in front of the fireplace a short time later. “Speaking of rain, I’m not sure you ever completely dried out.” She ran a hand across the back of Sarah’s damp green button up shirt. “I guess I should have offered earlier, but would you like to borrow some clothes?”
“I’m not sure we wear the same size, but I’ll take a shirt from you if you’ve got one.”
Emory returned from her upstairs bedroom with a Stanford sweatshirt in hand. She hadn’t hit the bottom step when a clap of thunder hit and the lights went out. Silence. “Well, that makes things a little ominous.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry, you’re safe. Head back over to the fire. All is well over here.”
Emory made her way back to Sarah through the now darkened living room and handed her the sweatshirt. It was impossible to not watch Sarah unbutton the damp blouse she wore and let it fall loosely from her shoulders. Emory couldn’t have turned away if she’d wanted to. The firelight danced across the smooth expanse of olive skin as Sarah lifted her arms and pulled the sweatshirt over her head. The red bra Emory glimpsed and tops of full breasts just about did her in. Swallowing hard in an attempt to control her body’s visceral reaction to the sight, she excused herself into the kitchen to dig up a few candles.