“You can wear my black silk cape,” Amanda decided. “You'll freeze but you'll look great doing it. Perfume. Aunt Coco's got some of that smoldering French stuff left from Christmas.”
“No.” Suzanna shook her head. “She should stick with her usual scent.” Tilting her head, she studied her sister and smiled. “The contrast will drive him crazy.”
Unaware of what was in store for him, Trent sat in the parlor with Coco. His bags were packed. His calls were made. He wished he could come up with a reasonable excuse to stay another few days.
“We've enjoyed having you,” Coco told him when he'd expressed his appreciation for her hospitality. “I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon.”
Her crystal ball didn't lie, she reminded herself. It still linked Trent up with one of her nieces, and she wasn't ready to wave surrender.
“I certainly hope so. I have to say, Coco, how much I admire you for raising four such lovely women.”
“Sometimes I think we raised each other.” She smiled mistily around the room. “I'm going to miss this place. To be honest I didn't think it mattered to me until...well, until now. I didn't grow up here as the girls did. We traveled quite a bit, you see, and my father only came back sporadically. I always thought it was the fact that his mother had died here that put him off. Then, of course, I spent my married life and the first few years of my widowhood in Philadelphia. Then when Judson and Deliah were killed, I came here for the girls.” She sent him a sad, apologetic smile. “I'm sorry to get sentimental on you, Trenton.”
“Don't apologize.” He sipped thoughtfully at his aperitif. “My family has never been close, and as a result, there was never a home like this in my life. I think that's why I've begun to understand what it could mean.”
“You should settle down,” she said, cagily, she thought. “Find a nice girl, make a home and family of your own. Why, I can't think of anything lonelier than not having anyone to go home to.”
Wanting to avoid that line of thought, he reached down to throw the ball for Fred. They both watched as the dog bounded after it, tripped himself up and went sprawling.
“Not particularly graceful,” Trent mused. He rose and went over to retrieve the ball himself. Scratching the dog's belly, he glanced over. The first thing he saw was a pair of very slim black heels. Slowly his gaze traveled up a long, shapely pair of legs. With the breath backing up in his lungs, he sat back on his heels.
There was a sparkle of scarlet, snug and sleek over a curvy feminine form. “Lose something?” C.C. asked as his eyes fixed on her face.
Her lips were curved and red and slick. Trent ran his tongue over his teeth to be certain he hadn't swallowed it. On unsteady legs, he rose.
“We were having dinner tonight, weren't we?” “We...yes. You look wonderful.”
“Do you like it?” She turned a circle so that he could see the back of the dress dipped even lower than the front. “I think red's a cheerful color.” And powerful, she thought, still smiling.
“It suits you. I've never seen you in a dress before.”
“Impractical when it comes to changing fuel pumps. Are you ready to go?'' “Go where?”
Oh, she was going to enjoy this. “To dinner.” “Right. Yes.”
She inclined her head the way Suzanna had showed her and handed him her cape. It was a service he'd performed hundreds of times for dozens of women. But his hands fumbled.
“Don't wait up, Aunt Coco.”
“No, dear.” Behind their retreating backs, she grinned and raised her fists in the air. The moment the front door shut, the three remaining Calhouns exchanged high fives.
Chapter Nine
“I'm glad you talked me into going out tonight.”
C.C. reached for the door handle before she remembered to let Trent open the car for her.
“I wasn't sure you'd still be willing to go.” He closed his hand over hers.
“Because of the house?” As casually as possible, C.C. slid her hand from under his and lowered herself into the car. “That's done. I'd rather not talk about it tonight.”
“All right.” He closed the door, rounded the hood. “Amanda recommended the restaurant.” He had his hands on the keys but continued to stare at her.
“Something wrong?”
“No.” Unless you counted his nervous system. After starting the car, he tried again. “I thought you might like dining near the water.”
“Sounds fine.” His radio was on a classical station. Not her usual style, she thought. But it wasn't a usual night. C.C. settled back and prepared to enjoy the ride. “Have you heard that rattle again?”
“What rattle?”
“The one you asked me to fix yesterday.”
“Oh, that rattle.” He smiled to himself. “No. It must have been my imagination.” When she crossed her legs, his fingers tightened on the wheel. “You never told me why you decided to be a mechanic.”
“Because I'm good at it.” She shifted in her seat to face him. He caught a drift of honeysuckle and nearly groaned. “When I was six, I took apart our lawn mower's engine, to see how it worked. I was hooked. Why did you go into hotels?”
“It was expected of me.” He stopped, surprised that that had been the first answer out of his' mouth. “And I suppose I got good at it”
“Do you like it?”
Had anyone ever asked him that before? he wondered. Had he ever asked himself? “Yes, I guess I do.”
“Guess?” Her brows lifted into her bangs. “I thought you were sure of everything.”
He glanced at her again and nearly ran off the road. “Apparently not.”
When they arrived at the waterfront restaurant, he was used to the transformation. Or thought he was. Then he went around to open the car door for her. She slid out, rose up. They were eye to eye, barely a whisper apart. C.C. held her ground, wondering if he could hear the way her heart was pounding against her ribs.
“Are you sure nothing's wrong?”
“No, I'm not sure.” No one, he was certain, this impossibly sexy was meant to be resisted. He cupped a hand at the back of her neck. “Let me check.”
She eased away the instant before his lips brushed hers. “This isn't a date, remember? Just a friendly dinner.”
“I'd like to change the rules.”
“Too late.” She smiled and offered a hand. “I'm hungry.” “You're not the only one,” he murmured, and took her inside.
He wasn't sure how to handle her. The smooth moves he'd always taken for granted seemed rusty. The setting was perfect, the little table beside the window with water lapping just outside. As the sun set away in the west, it deepened and tinted the bay. He ordered wine as she picked up her menu and smiled at him.
Under the table, C.C. gently eased out of her shoes. “I haven't been here before,” she told him. “It's very nice.”
“I can't guarantee the food will be as exceptional as your aunt's.”
“No one cooks like Aunt Coco. She'll be sorry to see you go. She likes cooking for a man.”
“Will you?” “Will I what?”
“Be sorry to see me go.”
C.C. looked down at the menu, trying to concentrate on her choices. The hard fact was, she had none. “Since you're still here, we'll have to see. I imagine you have a lot to catch up on in Boston.”
“Yes, I do. I've been thinking that after I do, I may take a vacation. A real one. Bar Harbor might be a good choice.”
She looked up, then away. “Thousands think so,” she murmured, relieved when the waiter served the wine.
“If you could go anywhere you liked, where would it be?”
“That's a tough question, since I haven't been anywhere.” She sipped, found the wine as smooth as chilled silk on her tongue.”Somewhere where I could see the sun set on the water, I think. Someplace warm.” She shrugged. “I suppose I should have said Paris or London.”