“Yeah. I acted like an ass. An impulsive, jealous ass.”
She blew out a breath, but there was a small laugh contained within it and her eyes still held that softness. She looked at her menu and we were both quiet for a second as we perused the choices. After a minute she set her menu aside. “You saw your father this morning before he left?”
“Yeah. He told me about the treatment. I hope it brings him some relief. That rattle in his lungs . . . it’s gotta be uncomfortable.” She nodded, her expression full of the unfeigned concern I knew she had for him.
The waitress came and took our order and when she left, Isabelle said, “It’s going to be quiet this weekend at the house. Are you planning on staying?” Our eyes met and something flashed between us, but Isabelle lowered her gaze before I could tell exactly what she might be thinking. My own blood buzzed with the thoughts that suddenly entered my mind. Having Isabelle to myself, the whole house empty, just us, for an entire weekend.
“I’d like to.” My voice sounded deeper—needy—even to my own ears, and I cleared my throat. Color rose in Isabelle’s cheeks as she looked at me, her eyes skittering away as if she’d somehow seen the visions my brain had conjured. Us. Alone. A huge house all to ourselves. So many surfaces.
“Why’d you come back, Brant?” she asked, her finger circling her glass.
I swallowed, wanting her touch on me, circling, exploring. And more. So much more. That one night hadn’t been enough, dammit. Not even close. I needed to experience her again, and again, and again, not just in the dark of night, but in the soft light of morning and the bright afternoon sunshine. I’d wondered before what it would be like to know a woman, really know her, and though the thought had enticed me then, fear had come quick on its heels. But looking at her now . . . there was only that burning desire and nothing else. Why had I come back? “I meant it when I said I missed you.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “And I started thinking about what my father said. It made sense.” At the look of exasperation that flashed in her eyes, I held up my hand. “Don’t get mad. I know now that it’s not what you expect. Let me just explain where my mind was. I was thinking that if we married, we’d both own Graystone Hill. It’d stay in the Talbot name. I would leave the running of it to you, and you’d have no reason to turn it down. And you wouldn’t have had to worry about someone else owning it who might split the place up, or run things in a way you didn’t care for.”
“Brant, if your father left it solely to you, you could just assure me of those things and go on your merry way.”
“My father doesn’t trust me. He trusts you. My father loves you like a daughter already. A marriage would have made it both of ours.”
“A marriage of convenience, Brant? Seriously?”
God, no. “It would have been more than that.”
“Really? It doesn’t sound like it. We don’t know each other.” She huffed out a breath. “We seem to be good at fighting and well . . .” Her cheeks turned pink, her eyelids fluttering down. Fuck, she was so damned pretty. Fighting and fucking, that’s what she meant, but I doubted Belle would have put it like that.
“What else is there?” I asked.
She laughed, but then pressed her lips together. “A lot. There’s a lot, Brant.”
“But that’s a good start, right?” I tilted my head and gave her my best boyish smile. “I’m crazy about you, Belle.”
She shook her head and looked mildly annoyed. “You’re charming me, and I don’t know if I should let you.”
I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. “Let me. Let me charm you. I can be better at it. I know I can be an insensitive jerk, but I’m not always. You deserve to be charmed, Isabelle. You deserve happiness and laughter. Give me this weekend. Let me show you how it can be between us for longer than one night. At least that.”
Our food showed up, and as the waitress set down our plates, I watched Isabelle and could tell she was using the brief interruption to form her answer. When the waitress left the table, she looked up at me and I held my breath. “I’d like to spend this weekend with you, Brant.” She rearranged the utensils next to her plate, her brow furrowed. “But not to discuss marriage or your father’s wishes.” She rubbed at her temple. “Or anything weighing on us right now. Truthfully, I’d like to put all that aside for a couple of days . . .” Her voice trailed off as if she was thinking about something specific, something she hadn’t shared with me perhaps, but then she raised her eyes and the heat in them made my own flare in response. “I’d like to let it all go and just enjoy each other.” She bit her lip as if worried I’d say no to that. As if.
So, I had offered her marriage, and she had countered with a we
ekend of . . . enjoying each other. And the funniest part about it was that I was actually a little disappointed. But a weekend of enjoying Isabelle? It was a pretty great consolation prize and I wasn’t about to turn it down. “Check please,” I joked and Isabelle laughed, shooting me a bemused look and then picking up her fork and digging in to her food.
I suddenly wasn’t hungry at all.
At least not for food.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Isabelle
We were both mostly quiet on the ride home from the restaurant, the small space full of the sexual tension that had been flowing between us over dinner now amplified with every mile we drew closer to home.
I’d admitted my desire for him, admitted wanting to act on it, and yet I was nervous. One night with Brant had led to intense feelings for him, despite the way he’d acted afterward. What would an entire weekend do to my heart? Still . . . the excitement I felt at the very idea of . . . enjoying him for two days beat in my chest and sparkled through my veins. A thrill raced through me, settling between my legs, and I squeezed my thighs together, biting my lip at the small burst of pleasure. I remembered how glorious it had been that night at the old distillery and I wanted more. I was helpless against the need bubbling up inside me.
And yet, I had no real experience to draw from, and I didn’t want to disappoint him or embarrass myself.
Brant pulled into the driveway, turned off the car, and looked at me. His jaw was rigid with tension and I wondered if he felt the same neediness I did. “Before we go inside, Belle, tell me what you want. I need to hear you say the words.”
My gaze traveled over his face, his eyes burning with desire, his posture stiff, a sort of . . . desperation in his face that both thrilled and scared me. I had never talked about sex before, hadn’t been asked, and didn’t really know the rules, but I took a deep breath, figuring in this matter especially, honesty was the best policy. “I want . . .” I moved my finger along the edge of the seat, nervous and fidgety. “I want you to . . . teach me things.”
A sort of groan came from his chest and my eyes flew to his. He looked pained, that desperation in his eyes glowing brighter and causing my breath to hitch. He turned, opened his door and was pulling me out of mine all in the space of two heartbeats. He was breathing hard though he’d performed no exertion, and it excited me, made my blood pulse hotly. He took me by the arm, and I stumbled slightly as I attempted to keep up. He turned, steadying me and swooping me into his arms. I let out a surprised burst of laughter.