it’s necessary, but I agreed so…no problem.”
He placed the smooth material across her eyes, and she shivered as she realized it felt exactly as it had in her dreams.
Grange tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “We’re walking into the living room,” he told her. “We’ll go slowly. All you have to do is pace yourself with me. There’s nothing in your way to trip you. Okay?”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
He guided her to the left and good as his word, he didn’t hurry her. The moment they entered the room, the scent of cedar filled the air, and she felt increased heat.
“There’s a fire in here, right? Is it the wood I smell?”
Grange stopped and removed her hand from his arm. Another rougher hand took hers and the gravelly voice of her dreams answered her.
“Yes. I thought you’d enjoy it. Grange said he helped you with yours the other day.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“That’s very nice of you.” Lord, did she sound like a ninny or what?
Standing right next to him, she estimated his height at over six feet. The arm her fingers curled into and the side of his chest nudging against her were hard and muscular. Did he exercise?
“Come. Sit down with me over here. Trust me. I won’t let you stumble.”
He dropped her hand and slid one arm around her waist, guided her across the floor of the room. She wasn’t positive because they didn’t have too far to walk, but it seemed to her his steps were uneven. Was his leg the problem keeping him hidden away?
He nudged her in a new direction, and the back of her legs bumped what she thought might be the sofa. Guiding her with his touch, he eased her down onto the cushions. The upholstery was a buttery leather filled with thick padding. Nina sank into its comfort. Then the cushion next to her dipped as Blake sat beside her.
He reached for her hand again. “Is this okay? My holding your hand like this? I couldn’t wait to touch you.”
She was glad to hear the note of uncertainty in his voice. “Yes. Fine. I like it.”
He curled his fingers around hers, and again she felt the roughness so familiar from her dreams.
“Do you, um, do carpentry work?” she asked tentatively.
“No.” He sounded startled. “Why do you ask?”
“I was, um, curious. About your hands, I mean.”
“Sorry about that.” The warmth disappeared from his voice.
He released his hold on her at once. Crap. Now she’d done it.
“Please.” She reached out, searching for his hand, wanting to hold it again. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry if I offended you in some way.”
Lordy, lordy, lordy. Don’t let this be over before it starts . She waited, every muscle in her body clenched until his big, warm hand closed over hers again. He stroked his thumb lightly over her knuckles, as if to reassure her. All it did, however, was raise the thermostat on her internal temperature. They were sitting so close on the sofa she could feel his body heat and catch the familiar scent of sandalwood from her dreams.
“You smell good,” she blurted out.
He stroked her wrist with his thumb. “Thank you.”
There was a touch of humor back in his voice, though. It astonished her to realize this was as difficult for him as it was for her. She’d grown so used to thinking of herself as socially inept except at work. But this man hadn’t even had that much contact for the past two years, so what kind of judge was he, anyway.
Stop second-guessing yourself .
“Sorry about the blindfold.” He touched the fabric lightly. “I promise I mean you no harm.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled at him. “You asked if I liked fantasy, and being blindfolded is certainly a fantasy. But I don’t understand why it’s necessary.”
“Maybe I wanted you to get to know me first. Sometimes what the eye sees can be distracting. Or deceiving. This way you can give your imagination free rein.”
“But you know what I look like,” she protested.
“Yes. I do.” His voice
He placed the smooth material across her eyes, and she shivered as she realized it felt exactly as it had in her dreams.
Grange tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “We’re walking into the living room,” he told her. “We’ll go slowly. All you have to do is pace yourself with me. There’s nothing in your way to trip you. Okay?”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
He guided her to the left and good as his word, he didn’t hurry her. The moment they entered the room, the scent of cedar filled the air, and she felt increased heat.
“There’s a fire in here, right? Is it the wood I smell?”
Grange stopped and removed her hand from his arm. Another rougher hand took hers and the gravelly voice of her dreams answered her.
“Yes. I thought you’d enjoy it. Grange said he helped you with yours the other day.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“That’s very nice of you.” Lord, did she sound like a ninny or what?
Standing right next to him, she estimated his height at over six feet. The arm her fingers curled into and the side of his chest nudging against her were hard and muscular. Did he exercise?
“Come. Sit down with me over here. Trust me. I won’t let you stumble.”
He dropped her hand and slid one arm around her waist, guided her across the floor of the room. She wasn’t positive because they didn’t have too far to walk, but it seemed to her his steps were uneven. Was his leg the problem keeping him hidden away?
He nudged her in a new direction, and the back of her legs bumped what she thought might be the sofa. Guiding her with his touch, he eased her down onto the cushions. The upholstery was a buttery leather filled with thick padding. Nina sank into its comfort. Then the cushion next to her dipped as Blake sat beside her.
He reached for her hand again. “Is this okay? My holding your hand like this? I couldn’t wait to touch you.”
She was glad to hear the note of uncertainty in his voice. “Yes. Fine. I like it.”
He curled his fingers around hers, and again she felt the roughness so familiar from her dreams.
“Do you, um, do carpentry work?” she asked tentatively.
“No.” He sounded startled. “Why do you ask?”
“I was, um, curious. About your hands, I mean.”
“Sorry about that.” The warmth disappeared from his voice.
He released his hold on her at once. Crap. Now she’d done it.
“Please.” She reached out, searching for his hand, wanting to hold it again. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry if I offended you in some way.”
Lordy, lordy, lordy. Don’t let this be over before it starts . She waited, every muscle in her body clenched until his big, warm hand closed over hers again. He stroked his thumb lightly over her knuckles, as if to reassure her. All it did, however, was raise the thermostat on her internal temperature. They were sitting so close on the sofa she could feel his body heat and catch the familiar scent of sandalwood from her dreams.
“You smell good,” she blurted out.
He stroked her wrist with his thumb. “Thank you.”
There was a touch of humor back in his voice, though. It astonished her to realize this was as difficult for him as it was for her. She’d grown so used to thinking of herself as socially inept except at work. But this man hadn’t even had that much contact for the past two years, so what kind of judge was he, anyway.
Stop second-guessing yourself .
“Sorry about the blindfold.” He touched the fabric lightly. “I promise I mean you no harm.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled at him. “You asked if I liked fantasy, and being blindfolded is certainly a fantasy. But I don’t understand why it’s necessary.”
“Maybe I wanted you to get to know me first. Sometimes what the eye sees can be distracting. Or deceiving. This way you can give your imagination free rein.”
“But you know what I look like,” she protested.
“Yes. I do.” His voice
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