PublicBookshelf Book Club
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
"Just one glass," she said firmly when she first sat beside him on the brocade couch.
Of course, one glass led to another, and the headache began to fade. Ross started to look rather benign sitting in the light of the single lamp, and before Charity knew what was happening, she'd slid down to sit on the floor, saying, "This elegant upholstery makes me nervous. I know I'm going to spill wine all over it."
She leaned against the coffee table and he slid down next to her, a bit stiffly at first. He loosened up as he realized how comfortable it really was, and before long they were talking like cautious friends instead of sparring partners.
"What I don't understand," Ross said at last, when the bottle was empty and another had been found in a kitchen cabinet, "is why a woman like you hasn't been married before. For real, I mean."
That statement might have raised her hackles an hour or so earlier, but now she was relaxed enough to take it casually. She smiled, leaning her chin into the cup of her hand, her elbow on the coffee table.
"And here I thought you were a perceptive man," she teased. "You said it yourself. My style is South Sea Islands, no matter how much I try to hide it."
He raised an eyebrow, his dark gaze skimming across her flyaway hair and the nightgown that she had unconsciously allowed to drape provocatively off one shoulder.