Temptation by Nora Roberts Page A

was.”
    â€œI know what I am, what I want and what I can do.” As he took a curve he slowed. His eyes met hers briefly. “But the opinions of certain people always matter. In any case, I prefer the mountains to traffic jams. What do you prefer, Eden?”
    â€œI haven’t decided.” That was true, she realized with a jolt. In a matter of weeks her priorities, and her hopes, had changed direction. Musing on that, she almost missed the arching ELLIOT sign when Chase turned between the columns. “Where are we going?”
    â€œTo dinner.”
    â€œIn the orchard?”
    â€œIn my house.” With that he changed gears and had the car cruising up the gravel drive.
    Eden tried to ignore the little twist of apprehension she felt. True, this wasn’t the crowded―and safe―restaurant she had imagined. She’d shared private dinners before, hadn’t she? She’d been raised from the cradle to know how to handle any social situation. But the apprehension remained. Dinner alone with Chase wouldn’t be, couldn’t possibly be; like any other experience.
    Even as she was working out a polite protest, the car crested the hill. The house rose into view.
    It was stone. She couldn’t know it was local stone, quarried from the mountains. She saw only that it was old, beautifully weathered. At first glance, it gave the appearance of being gray, but on a closer look colors glimmered through. Amber, russet, tints of green and umber. The sun was still high enough to make the chips of mica and quartz glisten. There were three stories, with the second overhanging the first by a skirting balcony. Eden could see flashes of red and buttercup yellow from the pots of geraniums and marigolds. She caught the scent of lavender even before she saw the rock garden.
    A wide, sweeping stone stairway, worn slightly in the center, led to double glass doors of diamond panes. A redwood barrel was filled with pansies that nodded in the early evening breeze.
    It was nothing like what she had expected, and yet . . . the house, and everything about it, was instantly recognizable.
    His own nervousness caught Chase off guard. Eden said nothing when he stopped the car, still nothing when he got out to open her door. It mattered, more than he had ever imagined it could, what she thought, what she said, what she felt about his home.
    She held her hand out for his in a gesture he knew was automatic. Then she stood beside him, looking at what was his, what had been his even before his birth. Tension lodged in the back of his neck.
    â€œOh, Chase, it’s beautiful.” She lifted her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun behind the house. “No wonder you love it.”
    â€œMy great-grandfather built it.” The tension had dissolved without his being aware of it. “He even helped quarry the stone. He wanted something that would last and that would carry a piece of him as long as it did.”
    She thought of the home that had been her family’s for generations, feeling the too-familiar burning behind her eyes. She’d lost that. Sold it. The need to tell him was almost stronger than pride, because in that moment she thought he might understand.
    He felt her change in mood even before he glanced down and saw the glint of tears in her eyes. “What is it, Eden?”
    â€œNothing.” No, she couldn’t tell him. Some wounds were best left hidden. Private. “I was just thinking how important some traditions are.”
    â€œYou still miss your father.”
    â€œYes.” Her eyes were dry now, the moment past. “I’d love to see inside.”
    He hesitated a moment, knowing there had been more and that she’d been close to sharing it with him. He could wait, Chase told himself, though his patience was beginning to fray. He would have to wait until she took that step toward him rather than away from him.
    With her hand still in his, he climbed