“How can I help?” He took a shovel from her since she was juggling too many tools.
“I don’t need any help.” She smiled brightly before trudging to an outbuilding at the back of the property that his brother had built for his woodworking. “And I can get the shovel, too, so please don’t feel like you need to stick around if you have other things to do. I’ll probably be busy for a few more hours at least.”
“Aren’t you picking up for the night?” Somehow he’d had visions of them going inside together. Talking. Hanging out. Hell, he didn’t know what he had in mind.
He knew perfectly well it was too soon to act on this attraction to Christine.
“No, I’m just organizing so that my work space doesn’t look like a disaster area now that you’re here. I’ll clean up in the house before I go to bed, too, and I’m sorry about all the plants in the sink. I can guarantee they’re bug-free, however.”
Damn, he hadn’t even thought about the infestation potential.
“It’s not a problem.” Especially since he always had someone come in to clean the house whenever he was in town. What was the point of all his racing winnings if he couldn’t occasionally dip into them for a few perks? After having struggled and scrimped to help his brothers and Giselle pay for college, who could blame him for a little self-indulgence now? “And damn it, Christine, let me give you a hand just for tonight since I threw off your whole workday by showing up.”
Ducking into the workshop, Christine switched on a lamp. Of course, this being his brother’s old carpentry haven, the lighting wasn’t just a bare electric light bulb. Although the rest of the room had been cleared out of hand carved desks and elaborate sideboards, the oversize shed still boasted wooden wall sconces at three-foot intervals.
Just what every backyard storage shed needed.
With a thunk, Christine set down the tools she’d been lugging on the sealed concrete floor.
“Look. I don’t mean to be rude, Vito, and I’ve had a surprisingly nice day hanging out with you, considering you’re some sort of European playboy extraordinaire. But I have a really hard time accepting help and I feel a big sense of ownership on this project, so if you don’t mind…”
“You want me to leave you alone.” He set down his shovel, the only tool she’d let him carry. She’d given him loud and clear warnings about the whole independence thing, so he wasn’t surprised there. But he was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment. “Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure things were cool between us before I went inside.”
“They’re very cool.” She straightened the tools in the corner of the half-empty shed and failed to meet his eye.
Too bad he didn’t feel very cool at the moment. Watching her walk all over the yard, her slender hips in constant motion, had produced quite the opposite effect.
“Good.” He didn’t mean to move closer to her, but somehow he had. Just for a moment. “Because I wouldn’t want things to be awkward for you, having to sleep under the same roof as me.”
She blinked up at him, their bodies suddenly too close together, the pink bow of her mouth forming a round O of slight surprise.
He thought about taking that mouth, about tasting the lemony sugar of her kiss and putting an end to the mix of awkwardness and attraction between them. But given all her boundary-drawing and warning signs posted, Vito thought maybe he’d be better off letting her go this time. Saving that kiss for a moment when neither of them would find any reason to stop.
“’Night, Christine.” Easing away from her and the raw temptation of her tanned, slender body, Vito took a step back. Her boundaries were safe for a little while longer. “Pleasant dreams.”
And for the first time in a long time, he knew damn well that his would be.
4
TWO WEEKS LATER, Christine was still cursing Vito Cesare’s insistence that she have pleasant dreams.
Slumping into the ancient tire swing in the backyard after another endless day of working, she stared up at the dark house where Vito worked on his computer and wished she could get a good night’s sleep for a change. But she’d been having so many confounded pleasant dreams of him that she dreaded going to bed lately for fear of the overly romantic plotting of her subconscious mind.
Wrapping her arms around the old tire, she rested her chin on her hands and kicked the swing into motion, every muscle aching from spending her day on her hands and knees finishing the hard-scaping, or structural work for the new landscape. She’d installed new patio blocks and pathways around the property, creating all new foundations and focal points for the colorful tropical gardens she had yet to develop.
But despite her bone-weary exhaustion, she couldn’t help but fantasize about the man she’d shared a house with for the last two weeks. He’d been a perfect gentleman ever since that first night when he’d helped her put away the tools in the workshop. She’d been taken aback by his sudden proximity that night, and could have sworn he’d been about to kiss her. And then…nothing.
A reminder to have pleasant dreams, and then he was off to his own room, staying out of her way day after day while she worked sunup to well after sundown creating the kind of lush foliage and private terrain she and Giuseppe Donzinetti had discussed.
She’d made it her habit to work late every night. Not only because she needed to get a lot done, but also because she hoped she’d dream about him less often if she didn’t run into him in the hallway before going to bed. She opted to clean up in the charming outdoor shower she’d found behind the outbuilding at the back of the property instead. An adorable latticework enclosure complete with wooden privacy screens, the shower stall had to have been built by the Cesare brother who had been into carpentry.
Not only did she avoid Vito that way, but she really enjoyed showering under the stars, sliding into some clean clothes, and then sneaking into the house after Vito was asleep. But tonight she was too exhausted even to make it back to her bed.
A warm evening breeze fluttered through her damp hair as she studied the dark house for some sign of life. It was only midnight and she’d noticed Vito sometimes stayed up until one or two. He left the house for long periods of time during the day, coming home at seven or eight and offering her dinner most nights.
Which she had always refused. Except for earlier in the week when he’d simply brought bags of takeout home and set them on the picnic table for her. Considering his idea of takeout had been Cajun-fried shrimp and jambalaya from a local specialty restaurant, she could hardly have refused. But even then, he’d left her alone to eat in peace.
Which had been very gentlemanly. And, if she was completely honest with herself, maybe just a teeny bit disappointing.
Had she dreamed the mutual attraction of that first day? Or had the chemistry between them been so one-sided it had skewed her perceptions?
Yawning and stretching, she told herself to quit ruminating and just get her butt inside so she could snag some sleep. Then again, maybe if she closed her eyes out here, farther away from where Vito slept, she’d be able to catch a few Zs that weren’t interrupted by sultry dreams. Surely even her romantic subconscious wouldn’t plague her with sexy visions while she was perched in a ring of vulcanized rubber.
After two weeks, maybe she’d found the key to a few hours of sleep that didn’t star Vito Cesare wearing nothing but a pair of gardening gloves and a wicked grin.
FEET SINKING into the soft earth beneath his flip-flops, Vito walked across the yard at 2:00 a.m. to find Christine slumped in the old tire swing, her chin resting on her folded hands. He paused over her, wondering what she was dreaming about. He’d wake her in a minute and steer her to bed so she could get a good night’s sleep. For now he simply indulged in the unique experience of watching her at rest.
Did she think about fire bushes and patio blocks even while she slept? Plants and landscaping seemed to be all she talked about while awake. The few times he’d tried to draw her into conversation over the last two weeks that he’d been back home, she’d quickly rerouted the discussion back to watering schedules and his yard’s soil composition.
All business, in other words.
He studied her face in the moonlight. Swiping a thumb across her cheek, he told himself he was just brushing off a stray hair and not testing the softness of her creamy skin. Although if he had been taking note of what she felt like, he would have had to admit her skin was even softer than he’d imagined. More delicate.
Debating the best way to wake her, Vito skimmed a short brown lock of hair away from her face, exposing the full expanse of her cheek to the moonbeams, along with her tempting pink lips.
He’d been trying to give her space ever since that first night when she’d outlined her boundaries as concretely as if she’d laid her damn paver stones around them. He’d hoped that maybe with time and enforced proximity, the spark between them would develop into something even she couldn’t ignore. But she was either too exhausted to look at him twice or she deliberately avoided him. He couldn’t be sure which.
And since the out-of-town guests would start arriving for the wedding preliminaries in another week or so, Vito knew he didn’t have much more time to make his move. If he wanted to woo Christine, he couldn’t afford to sit back and wait for her boundaries to dissolve any longer.
Tomorrow, he’d pick up his pace for the full-throttle rush toward the finish line and break through those barriers of hers on his own. Tonight, he’d have to settle for cruising one more test lap.
“Christine?” He laid his hand on her shoulder, debating if he should just scoop her out of the swing and carry her to bed. She had to be dead to the world after all the hours she’d been putting in this week.
Then again, he didn’t want to risk scaring her.
“Christine?” he called her name a little louder, looping an arm around her waist to test her reaction.
“Vi-to.” She moaned his name in her sleep, stretching out the word into extra syllables as if savoring the taste of it on her tongue.
His name had never sounded more provocative. And although she still seemed to sleep deeply, with her chin resting on the back of her hand curved around the tire, Vito suddenly felt very, very awake.
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