Behind Closed Doors by Debbi Rawlins Page A

the garage and parking next to a green Range Rover.
    Still, she didn’t breathe easy until they’d entered the house through the laundry room and ended up in the big modern kitchen. It was as gorgeous as the other parts of the house, with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and tons of beautiful peachy-brown granite. Someone sure liked to cook. As if the crazy expanse of countertops weren’t enough, there was also an oversize island, an additional sink and a grill with warming tray.
    A lot of thought had been put into the design, not just in the kitchen but throughout what she could see of the rest of the house. One casually elegant room spilled into the next. From the kitchen she saw a massive stone fireplace, two large sofas and a flat-screen TV that was so big it had to be brand-new technology.
    “I hope you’re hungry,” Nathan said, tossing his keys on the counter near the phone. “Kitty made enough food for the whole county.”
    “Did she know you were having company?”
    “Not that I’m aware of.” He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. “She might suspect, but you don’t have to worry about her gossiping.”
    “I’m glad. It seems I’m under the careful watch of everyone in Blackfoot Falls. Makes sense, since I’m the new kid in town.” Beth moved closer to the stove and sniffed the large covered casserole that sat on top. “Please tell me this is lasagna.”
    Looking up just in time to see his rugged jaw clench, food slipped her mind for a second. Damn, he had a great face. Great body. Great everything. “Go ahead and have a look,” he said.
    She did just that, peeling back the foil at the corner. Wow. “I haven’t eaten all day. I’m starving.”
    “You wear heels that high often?”
    She glanced at him, startled. “Not lately. I wouldn’t have worn them tonight except—” Her thoughts scattered when he started toward her. She leaned back and braced her hands on the counter.
    Something dark and predatory flared hot in his eyes. His gaze briefly swept her shirt, the stretchy material pulled tight across her breasts. Whatever he had in mind, there wasn’t a lasagna in the whole world that could compete. Swallowing, she waited for him to make his next move.
    He stopped short of touching her. “Except what?”
    Blinking away the brain fog took a moment. “I usually can’t wear them on dates,” she said, her voice low, barely audible. “They make me too tall for most men.”
    “You are tall,” he whispered, putting his hands on her waist and meeting her eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to her mouth. “How about some wine? Or something harder, if you prefer.”
    “Wine is good.”
    “White or red?”
    “Don’t care.”
    “Music?” His grip on her waist tightened for an instant and then relaxed. “I have country, jazz, classic rock...” He cleared his throat as he stepped back. “You could go choose something while I open a bottle of merlot.” He yanked open the closest drawer and rummaged around. “The CDs are in the den,” he said, motioning with his chin toward the room with the TV.
    “Okay.” She could’ve sworn he’d been about to kiss her. Was it the stupid gloss holding him back? She’d forgotten about it and took a quick swipe with her tongue. It felt as if she’d already licked most of it off.
    He let out a laugh, or maybe it was a groan. “You’re not making this easy.”
    “What? What did I do?” she asked, catching his arm when he turned away.
    “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
    Beth didn’t understand. “That’s—that’s very nice.” She let go. “I think.”
    Slowly he brought out a pair of wineglasses from an upper cabinet. “Not interested in music?” he asked without looking at her.
    “Oh, music. Right.” Still confused, she started toward the den. He obviously had no trouble initiating a kiss. He’d proved that in his office earlier.
    She spotted the rows of CDs right away, neatly stored in racks built into the wall and grouped