That elicited Bonnie’s musical laugh, as he’d hoped. She looked more comfortable now, her momentary discomfiture replaced by humor. Still scribbling in her sketchbook, Cassie ignored him pointedly.
Bonnie cocked her head and studied him more closely, as if suddenly noticing a few details. Now the one feeling at a disadvantage, he wished he’d had time for that face washing. “Did you forget your sunscreen?”
He wrinkled his nose automatically, feeling the tight, reddened skin pull with the movement. “I forgot to reapply it enough times during the kayaking trip yesterday. I wore some today for the soccer game,” he added a bit defensively.
“Locking the barn after the horse got scorched,” Cassie mumbled. Before he could ask her what the heck that was supposed to mean, she asked Bonnie, “Do you like this shape, Bonnie? It’s a little different than what I’ve seen you wear, but I think it could be nice on you.”
Taking his cue, Paul took a step back into the hallway. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a quick shower.”
“You need a long shower, Dad. Take your time.”
Shooting a frown toward his grinning daughter, Paul turned and headed for his room, hoping Bonnie would still be around when he came out clean and freshly composed.
During her twenty-eight years, Bonnie had experienced sexual attraction before. Though she’d been focused for so long on her goal of running Bride Mountain Inn and had concentrated since her teen years on her career training, she’d dated in high school and had a semi-serious boyfriend in college, a couple of brief liaisons since. But until some ten minutes ago, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been so utterly knocked out by a wave of throat-closing, heart-racing, nipple-tightening lust.
Just mentally picturing Paul’s sudden appearance in that doorway—rumpled, grubby, sweaty, sunburned and virilely male to his sneakered toes—made her pulse trip again. She had to push the image firmly to the back of her mind to get through the remainder of her consultation with Cassie somewhat coherently, especially after she heard the shower running in another room. The fantasies that resulted from that sound were definitely going to have to wait until later, when she was alone.
She was quite impressed by Cassie’s design skills as displayed by the sketches and garments Cassie showed her that she’d conceived and created. The wedding gown was ninety-nine percent completed, Cassie confided, but that was being kept under wraps till her wedding day. With the exception of Danielle, who’d helped her with a couple of the fittings, no one else had seen it yet, not even her parents.
“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” Bonnie said. “I can’t wait to see you in it on your wedding day.”
“I’m really happy with it. And I think Mike will like it.”
“Well, that’s all that matters, really, isn’t it?” Bonnie had met Cassie’s fiancé only once in passing when Cassie had brought him to see the inn last month on one of his brief trips home from London, where he had recently started his new job. He’d seemed very nice, in a clean-cut, boy-next-door way, and visibly eager for Cassie to finish school, marry him and join him in England. “Will Mike be back in town before the wedding?”
Cassie sighed heavily. “No. In order to take off a couple of weeks for the honeymoon, he has to work right up until four days before the wedding. That’s one reason I’m staying so busy, so I won’t have time to miss him so much. Not that it works, really—but at least we get to talk by phone and computer every day.”
She shook her head as if shaking off her momentary wistfulness and picked up the sketch pad again. “So, we’re agreed on the leaf-green for the fabric?”
“It’s a very pretty color.” And also an expensive fabric, Bonnie fretted, having seen a swatch. Cassie had refused to even consider payment for the dress. She’d assured Bonnie that she’d collected a lot of fabric at clearance sales during the past few years and that she couldn’t move it all with her to London. She was only sorry she didn’t have time to make another garment from her sketched collection. She said she was partial to the skinny pants and beaded bolero, and she rather liked the formal-occasion gown, but just couldn’t do either of them justice with the limited time she had. Having decided that the day-to-evening dress would be more functiona
l for Bonnie, anyway, she’d chosen to focus on that.
Though of just over average height, Cassie seemed to have a knack for designing for a petite woman, Bonnie decided, studying the sketches again. They didn’t look like regular-sized clothing simply cut shorter, but rather original designs intended to lengthen and slenderize while still emphasizing feminine curves. The sleek, sheath-style dress was a different shape from Bonnie’s usual attire, but Cassie had assured her it was going to be incredibly flattering. What woman could resist that?
Cassie closed the sketchbook. “I have some peach tea in the fridge downstairs. Would you like a glass?”
Bonnie glanced at her watch. It was only a few minutes after four o’clock, and she wouldn’t serve the Sunday evening sandwiches until six. Everything was ready to set out, so she didn’t have to rush to the inn. “Yes, I’d love some, thank you. I have about an hour before I should head home.”
She was not staying longer just to spend more time with Paul, she assured herself. Though that was certainly a perk.
She and Cassie sat at the kitchen table a few minutes later with their peach tea when Paul joined them. He was clean and groomed now, his hair damp but neatly combed, his jaw clean-shaven, his dirty sports clothes exchanged for a crisp blue cotton shirt and jeans. Seeing him now had the same impact as earlier, though she had herself under somewhat better control this time, having had a chance to prepare for his arrival.
“Well, don’t you look spiffy,” Cassie remarked, arching a brow as she glanced from her father to Bonnie and back again.
Paul gave his daughter a quizzical look. “Spiffy?” he repeated, passing her to reach into the refrigerator and pull out the tea pitcher.
She giggled. “Very.”
He tugged lightly at her hair when he passed her to take a seat at the table, directly across from Bonnie. He met her eyes over the cookie jar centerpiece. “How did the fashion consultation go?”
“Your daughter is brilliant.”
He winked. “Yes, I know. We try not to mention it in front of her, though. Gives her a big head.”
“Hey!” Cassie protested playfully. “I happen to be very modest about my genius.”
Paul groaned and Bonnie laughed, enjoying their affectionate interplay. Seeing them together gave her a wistful feeling, reminding her of her distant relationship with her own father. She would have loved to have been this close with him when she was younger. She’d often wondered if maybe she wouldn’t be so gun-shy about trusting in romantic promises if her dad had lived up to the ones he’d once made to her mom?