dropping my keys into my purse I purposefully walked up to the wooden gate. I paused for only a moment to gather my courage and then slipped into the yard, moving up the walkway admiring the lush and fragrant lilac bushes that lined the path. Stepping up to the large wooden front door I raised a slightly trembling hand and rang the bell, the soft chime echoing faintly inside the house. Rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet I glanced around nervously as I waited for him to answer the door, my gaze dancing over the well-manicured lawn, the precisely trimmed bushes, and the large Weeping Willow that dominated one corner of the yard, spilling its trailing fronds out onto the sidewalk.
It was obvious that Professor Davis took pride in his yard. The mental picture of him out here working shirtless in the bright sunshine, light glistening on his bare skin as his long hair floated around his shoulders, brought a deep blush to my cheeks and caused my heart to race.
“A penny for your thoughts, Miss Parker,” his warm and smooth voice intruded upon my daydreaming, bringing a startled gasp to my lips. Spinning around I found him standing in the doorway, one arm resting casually on the door frame as he regarded me with a raised brow.
“Good evening, Sir,” I said as I ducked my head, wishing my hair was loose so that I could hide the deep blush in my cheeks behind it, instead settling for anxiously toying with the end of my braid.
“Come in… if you dare,” he said in a rich baritone as he stepped back from the door, his mouth tilted upwards in a teasing smirk.
I darted inside the house before my nerves could buckle and I ran back to the car like a coward. His chuckle was like warm silk as I brushed past him and barely managed to hide my flinch as he shut the door behind me and turned the lock. I stood awed in the foyer, the wide wooden stairs in front of me leading up to the second floor in a left-hand dog-leg, the wooden banisters gleaming in the soft light of the stained glass chandelier overhead.
To the left was a shadowy room that appeared to be his home office, the shapes of a large desk, chair, and a wall of bookcases barely visible in the gloom. A narrow hallway led back into deeper darkness past the office and behind the staircase. On my right was a large living room, its huge windows looking out onto the front lawn, the light from several Tiffany lamps spilling through the pale cream gauze curtains that covered the window. A comfortable looking dark brown couch and two matching chairs dominated the room, a low wooden coffee table between them with a small stack of books piled at one end as if their owner was leisurely working their way through them. A familiar pair of wire-rimmed glasses lay beside them.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, reminding me that he was so close, and making me warm as I remembered why I was there.
“Please,” I said with a nod as he ushered me into the living room, revealing the dining room that lay beyond, occupied by a large wooden Craftsman table with six chairs and a matching buffet.
“Wine okay?” he asked as he gestured to the couch. Nodding, I perched on the on the edge of the couch, nervously twisting the strap of my bag around my fingers. Locking me in place with that laugh again, he moved through the living room and dining room with comfortable ease, stepping around a corner to the left and disappearing into what I presumed was the kitchen. He reappeared moments later with a glass of white wine in hand.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” he said as he handed me the wine glass before settling into one of the arm chairs across from me.
“You’re not drinking?” I asked as I raised the glass to my lips, relishing the crisp and cold wine as it slid over my lips and coursed a cool path down my throat.
“No, I prefer to keep a clear head,” he replied smoothly, his gaze implying far more than his words as they settled on me with a heavy heat.
“You have a
It was obvious that Professor Davis took pride in his yard. The mental picture of him out here working shirtless in the bright sunshine, light glistening on his bare skin as his long hair floated around his shoulders, brought a deep blush to my cheeks and caused my heart to race.
“A penny for your thoughts, Miss Parker,” his warm and smooth voice intruded upon my daydreaming, bringing a startled gasp to my lips. Spinning around I found him standing in the doorway, one arm resting casually on the door frame as he regarded me with a raised brow.
“Good evening, Sir,” I said as I ducked my head, wishing my hair was loose so that I could hide the deep blush in my cheeks behind it, instead settling for anxiously toying with the end of my braid.
“Come in… if you dare,” he said in a rich baritone as he stepped back from the door, his mouth tilted upwards in a teasing smirk.
I darted inside the house before my nerves could buckle and I ran back to the car like a coward. His chuckle was like warm silk as I brushed past him and barely managed to hide my flinch as he shut the door behind me and turned the lock. I stood awed in the foyer, the wide wooden stairs in front of me leading up to the second floor in a left-hand dog-leg, the wooden banisters gleaming in the soft light of the stained glass chandelier overhead.
To the left was a shadowy room that appeared to be his home office, the shapes of a large desk, chair, and a wall of bookcases barely visible in the gloom. A narrow hallway led back into deeper darkness past the office and behind the staircase. On my right was a large living room, its huge windows looking out onto the front lawn, the light from several Tiffany lamps spilling through the pale cream gauze curtains that covered the window. A comfortable looking dark brown couch and two matching chairs dominated the room, a low wooden coffee table between them with a small stack of books piled at one end as if their owner was leisurely working their way through them. A familiar pair of wire-rimmed glasses lay beside them.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, reminding me that he was so close, and making me warm as I remembered why I was there.
“Please,” I said with a nod as he ushered me into the living room, revealing the dining room that lay beyond, occupied by a large wooden Craftsman table with six chairs and a matching buffet.
“Wine okay?” he asked as he gestured to the couch. Nodding, I perched on the on the edge of the couch, nervously twisting the strap of my bag around my fingers. Locking me in place with that laugh again, he moved through the living room and dining room with comfortable ease, stepping around a corner to the left and disappearing into what I presumed was the kitchen. He reappeared moments later with a glass of white wine in hand.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” he said as he handed me the wine glass before settling into one of the arm chairs across from me.
“You’re not drinking?” I asked as I raised the glass to my lips, relishing the crisp and cold wine as it slid over my lips and coursed a cool path down my throat.
“No, I prefer to keep a clear head,” he replied smoothly, his gaze implying far more than his words as they settled on me with a heavy heat.
“You have a
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