Текст книги "Reckless In Love"
Автор книги: Bella Andre
Соавторы: Jennifer Skully
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
CHAPTER FIVE
It wasn’t just a trailer. Sebastian had sent a freaking semi with four burly men who lifted her heavy equipment as if it were so many down pillows.
They’d arrived at ten on Friday morning. Fifteen minutes later, Sebastian flew in. Literally. In a helicopter, for God’s sake. His pilot landed at the edge of her property, just beyond the junkyard of parts. Charlie couldn’t imagine ever having that kind of money. All she needed was enough to take care of her mom and keep her own roof from falling in and she’d be perfectly happy.
Then again, as Sebastian crossed the junkyard to join her on the drive, it occurred to her that maybe there were a couple of other things that could also make her happy. Most of them having to do with getting naked with the beautiful man coming toward her.
“I missed you yesterday.” It was one heck of a good morning. Almost as good as the way he put a hand on her arm, stroking her skin. “Everything going okay?”
Charlie tried to pretend there was nothing over-the-top about a helicopter sitting in her yard or a billionaire driving her wild with nothing but a simple touch. To use her mother’s word, he was yummy in a pair of butt-hugging jeans and a short-sleeved black shirt that defined every hard muscle and emphasized just how broad he was in a way his suit hadn’t.
The often buried feminine voice inside of her told her she should have worn something better than her overalls and steel-toed boots. But it was moving day and she hadn’t been sure whether he would show up, or merely send his guys.
Boy, had he shown up.
“Totally fine.” She was glad she sounded completely normal, not starstruck. Or like a teenage girl whose heart was back-flipping at how incredibly handsome he was in the sunlight. “We’re making sure everything gets strapped down.” She called out to Jerry who had a jet-black mustache, “Don’t forget the ladder.”
He waved an acknowledgment as he rolled a dolly holding her barrel of nuts and bolts up the ramp and into the cavernous semi.
“I didn’t need you to rent a trailer this big, Sebastian.”
“How many barrels of nuts and bolts are you bringing?”
“Just one.”
“And barrels of screws?”
“Only one.”
He cocked an eyebrow as he asked, “How about barrels of monkeys?” in such a deadpan tone that she almost missed the joke.
Who would have thought that a billionaire could be adorable? She could get so attached if she let herself, she thought, as she answered his question just as seriously. “Seven. One for each day of the week.”
“Now that I’m watching them load everything in, I’m thinking I should have sent a bigger trailer.” He leaned close, so close that she was hit with a sudden rush of heat. One that had absolutely nothing to do with the hot sun. His bare skin brushed her, the dusting of hair on his arm soft against hers. She wondered if he had hair on his chest. How thick it was. How soft. And what his skin would smell like if she burrowed her nose against him. “Before we’re done, you’ll have everything in the yard stowed inside the trailer.”
He smelled so good that she almost lost her train of thought, almost forgot she couldn’t let him be right about absolutely everything, including the fact that she would probably need most of the semi for her equipment and supplies. “I’m only taking essentials.”
She surveyed the property for anything else that might turn out to be essential, and of course she found plenty that was. Half an hour later, the trailer was packed with her equipment, her barrels, her parts, extra bottles of argon and other gases used in the welding process, boxes of protective gear, solder rolls, tubing, and miscellaneous tools. The last thing she needed was her suitcase.
When she walked out of her house with it, Sebastian rushed forward to take it from her. Though she could easily carry it, she appreciated his good manners. Someone had clearly raised him well.
“I’ve never met a woman who can pack for two months in a carry-on.”
“As long as there’s a washing machine in your guest cottage, I don’t need to bring everything I own.” She’d packed sundries like shampoo and toothpaste, work clothes, shorts, tops, her one good pair of jeans, a pair of sandals, her iPad, chargers. At the last minute, she’d thrown in a couple of sundresses.
“You are the queen of low maintenance.”
“You do realize you’re saying this to the woman who just filled up an entire semi with junk, right?”
“That’s your art.” He stowed her suitcase carefully in his helicopter. “It’s a vocation, not maintenance.” He said it with complete sincerity, despite the fun he’d made of all her barrels.
A vocation. Not junk. No guy she’d ever been attracted to had felt that way about what she did.
“Okay.” He dusted off his hands. “We’ll take the helicopter, and the guys can meet us.”
The helicopter. It was hard to hold back a wow. Or to ignore just how badly she wanted to experience flying in a helicopter. But she needed to make sure she could come and go freely from his property while she was working on the chariot and horses. “That sounds like fun, but I need to drive my truck.”
Sebastian eyed her dusty truck beside the garage. “You’re free to use one of mine.”
“You have a truck too?” Until now, she’d managed to be cool about his wealth—and everything he was offering her—but the question came out before she could stop it.
He simply grinned and said, “What can I say? I’ve liked playing with them since I was a kid. And honestly, I’d feel better having you drive something more reliable.”
She looked at the dirt barely holding her truck together. He had a good point. Still, she was wary about agreeing to anything too quickly. Not when she’d been so careful to make sure she could easily take care of herself without depending on a man.
“No strings, Charlie,” he reminded her in a soft voice.
She believed him. But what about the strings she might want to tie on at some point in the future? What if she fell for him? What if she let herself believe in him the way he seemed to believe in her already?
Don’t borrow trouble, honey. It was something her mother had said to her more than once when they were taking care of her father, and then again when she had to move into the nursing home. Just try to appreciate the good things we already have.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate the loaner,” she finally said, giving him a smile to let him know she truly meant it.
“Then we’re ready to go.” He circled his arm above his head, and a beat later, the helicopter’s rotor blades started to whirl.
Sebastian held out his hand, offering her the adventure of a lifetime. Days spent with a billionaire and all his toys. A six-figure commission. Entrée into a glittering world of future art patrons.
There would also be pressure. Pressure to create. Pressure to fit in. And plenty of time to wonder if in the long run Sebastian might not be quite as charmed by her menagerie or her very unique quirks as he seemed to be right now...
No. She wouldn’t let herself borrow any more trouble. She couldn’t let this chance slip through her fingers just because she was afraid to step into shoes she’d never worn before.
Reminding herself that this was the life any artist in her right mind would die for, Charlie put her hand in his and let him sweep her away.
* * *
Half an hour later, Sebastian brought Charlie’s suitcase into the guest bungalow. She’d filled almost an entire semi with her equipment, but she had only one small suitcase.
Sebastian couldn’t begin to describe how attractive that was. Not that she needed any help in that department, given that he’d been seriously hard-pressed not to kiss her at least a hundred times this morning.
“I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
“Comfortable?” She turned in a circle. “Look at this place. It’s huge.”
There were four bedrooms that he’d equipped with flat-panel TVs, stereos, game consoles, and computers. The bathrooms all had a large jet tub, sauna, and rain shower. Sliding glass doors opened onto a deck and hot tub. And the kitchen was fully stocked with top-of-the-line appliances.
“I can’t stay here for free. I have to pay you rent.”
He’d be damned if he took a dollar from her. “I’m providing accommodations so that you’re at your best when you’re creating. Room and board is part of our deal.”
“I don’t remember this being part of the deal.” She waved a hand. “All the luxury. A brand new truck at my disposal. Helicopter rides.”
But he’d seen how much she’d enjoyed it, the way she’d been glued to the window when the pilot had flown them out over the Bay. Once upon a time he’d been floored by the view from above too, but these past few years he was always in a hurry just to get where he was going. Today, however, he’d reveled in her excitement and appreciation.
Thinking how much he’d appreciated the view—and her too—he said, “My truck is safer, this guest cottage is closer to the big workshop here, and the helicopter is easier and faster than sitting in traffic.”
“I get all that, but you know it’s not what I meant. It’s just too much, Sebastian. Too much for some artist that you’ve hired to build a sculpture for your office building.”
She was right about so many things, so flawless in her vision for her sculptures. But she was wrong about this. Nothing was too much for her. And soon, he’d make sure she knew that she deserved everything that would be hers once the rest of the art world finally discovered her incredible talent.
For now, though, he needed to know something. “Is it about the luxury itself? Or because you don’t want to feel obligated?”
She frowned. Took a breath, then blew it out. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“I wasn’t born into money.” He wanted her to know where he was coming from just as much as she wanted to be understood. He didn’t want her to judge him for his wealth or find him lacking because of it. “I don’t take any of it for granted. But I’ve got it now and I enjoy it. And I hope you’ll let yourself enjoy it too, Charlie.”
He moved to the couch and held out his hand to her, and just as she always had before, she paused. He found himself holding his breath until, finally, she put her hand in his and let him guide her around the coffee table. She was about to sit on the leather sofa when she stopped to remove her boots first. No question about it, his foster mother Susan would love her.
Charlie rubbed her feet on the thick rug as if it were fur, then curled up into the sofa and propped her chin on her hand as she said, “I would never begrudge you your wealth. I know you’ve worked hard for it. That’s not why I’m feeling uncomfortable.” She bit her lip as she worked to put her feelings into words for him. “What if I fail?”
He immediately hunkered down in front of her, so close that their heat mingled, forming one aura out of two. She’d been so confident in the lobby of his new headquarters, so sure of herself standing in the doorway of her dilapidated workroom. He hated to think he could have done anything to change that. That he might have done anything to hurt her in any way. Even though they’d only just met a few days earlier, hurting her was the very last thing he wanted to do.
“The money changes your feelings that much?”
“Maybe.” She ran a hand over her face. “Or maybe it’s just performance anxiety.”
“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he said slowly, “but I can’t imagine you care that much about what people think of you.”
“Not people.” She paused and he could swear a world of emotions shot through her beautiful eyes and over her stunning face. “You.”
“You already know what I think.” He smiled at her. “But I’m more than happy to tell you again how magnificent you are.”
He’d been hoping to see a smile, but she simply sighed and admitted, “I’m not used to anyone paying me for my work. Especially not the amount you paid.”
One hundred thousand dollars honestly wasn’t a huge amount to him anymore. But he understood that it meant a hell of a lot to her. Still, he wouldn’t allow it to diminish her now, or to strip away her confidence. “Do you want to work for free?”
“No.”
He was glad her answer was so quick and to the point. “Then take the space and the luxury I’m offering. And don’t worry about anyone’s expectations, Charlie. Because I already know you’re going to blow them all away.”
“How do you do it?” She stared into his eyes. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”
Because I grew up with a father who never did. Sebastian knew firsthand just how important it was for words to heal and inspire, rather than hurt and cut.
But this was about making sure she was okay, not going back into a past he’d already dealt with, so he gave her a different truth. “You make it easy, Charlie.”
The smile she gave him now was blindingly beautiful. “Okay. I’ll take what you’re offering. And I’ll stop worrying about expectations. At least,” she added with a small uplift of her eyebrows, “until the next time I do.”
Even as he laughed at her totally honest response, he knew that it would be so easy—and so damned good—to sweep her up into his arms, carry her into the master bedroom, strip off her clothes, and make love to her the way he’d been fantasizing about ever since he’d first set eyes on her, since the moment her husky laughter had resonated deep inside him.
Though he felt compelled to make sure she didn’t think there were any sexual strings attached to the commission, that wasn’t the only reason he’d worked like hell to lock down his control. By now, his feelings for Charlie were definitely not along the lines of a simple fling. They had the potential to be big. Big enough that he needed to know more about her, more about how they fit together outside of bed, before they jumped into it. The last thing Sebastian wanted was for him and Charlie to end up destroying each other the way his parents had.
Waiting to have her might very well kill him, but he forced himself to put some distance between them. Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. “Are you ready for the workroom?”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes for a split second, but when she let him pull her to her feet, all traces of hesitation were gone as she said, “Let’s get started.”
* * *
Charlie stood in the sunbeams streaming down through one of the four skylights in the roof. It sure as heck beat the holes and Plexiglas in her garage that served as her light source.
“I love it.” Which was pretty much the biggest understatement in the world, considering it was beyond her wildest expectations. Just like the bungalow. Just like the six-figure check.
Just like Sebastian.
Two days ago, she could never have imagined a man like him stepping into her world. Yet now, she could barely think of anyone—or anything—else.
Even his barn had style and panache. Suspension pulleys hung from the ceiling, and workbenches lined the walls, along with cabinets, tool chests, and storage shelves. He’d promised to rent her an air compressor, and a brand new one stood in the front corner. The movers had rolled in her equipment, lined up her barrels, stacked her boxes, and laid out her parts on pallets.
Just as she’d said to him a few minutes earlier, there were big expectations in an environment like this, especially when a hundred thousand dollars was on the line. She’d felt the first wallop when he’d handed her the check, then again watching the glorious light show in his building, and once more when they were soaring in his helicopter with the brilliance of the Bay beneath them, the sailboats gliding across the water, the cars marching along the freeway like ants. And though he’d been nothing but nice, she’d felt like an ant under his heel that could be crushed at any moment.
At least, until he’d knelt beside her and asked if she wanted to work for free.
With one simple question, he’d helped her see that the only boot heel crushing her was her own. If she let it. Which she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow the money—or any success that came—to change her. Instead, she would revel in this perfect place—and in being near Sebastian—for as long as it lasted.
This, she was coming to see, was Sebastian’s power. How with one sentence, he’d opened her eyes after she’d shut them because she was letting fear and worries get the best of her.
“I should let you settle in, unpack your boxes, arrange your stuff, and make the place your own.”
He sounded like he didn’t really want to leave, and a deep desire for him to stay tingled inside her. She wanted to show him every piece and how it worked. The urge to keep him near—and to bring him much, much closer—was so strong that she had to retreat a pace so it didn’t spill over.
“It’s a long way back to your house from here.” The property covered acres of rolling hills, now brown and dry in the summer sun, and they’d reached the bungalow and outbuildings along a winding driveway leading from his helipad. His house was almost invisible beyond another rise at least a quarter of a mile above them. If this was what his guest bungalow and barn looked like, she could only imagine the opulence of his home. He’d said he hadn’t been born with money, and she wondered how he’d gotten used to all of this and how long that had taken. Would she ever feel like she fit in a place like this? In a limo or helicopter? Or would she only ever be truly comfortable in her ratty overalls and steel-toed boots? “Are you sure you don’t want to call your helicopter to fly you up?”
He barely stifled his laughter. “Are you begging for trouble?”
Yes. She wanted his brand of trouble. Badly. “You’re such a good sport I can’t help myself.” And she hadn’t yet stopped being surprised by that fact. “It’s fun to give you a bad time.”
“Bad?” The heat that radiated from him nearly jolted her farther back into the room. “Normally, I wouldn’t care for the sound of that. But with you, I like the way bad sounds.”
Oh God, her knees actually went weak at the thought of just how good she already knew it would be.
“Would you like to have dinner at my place tonight?”
She had no idea what was in the bungalow’s cupboards, though she suspected he’d had them fully stocked, along with the refrigerator. She could cook passable meals, though nothing like her mother’s. But the truth was that she’d rather be with him. And she had no urge whatsoever to lie to herself when the truth looked and smelled as good as he did. “I’m usually starving by six, if that will work for you.”
“Six is perfect.”
For one long moment after he said the word perfect, she couldn’t take her eyes off his lips, could barely resist the urge to devour him.
But she hadn’t been on his property an hour. And it was only a matter of days since he’d given her a six-figure check. Only remembering those two facts could have stopped her from giving in to the steamy air enveloping them.
Sebastian had told her he didn’t want her to think his desire for her art came with strings. When they finally did come together, Charlie didn’t want any of those material things in the way either. Just heat. Just desire.
And pleasure.
“Thank you for the helicopter flight here. For loaning me your truck. For the beautiful bungalow. And, most of all, for knowing just the right thing to say right when I needed it.”
His gorgeous mouth turned up into a smile that made her want to forget all about her decision to keep sex and art separate for a little while longer. “Until tonight.”
The two simple words falling from his lips sounded like a promise.
Or, better yet, a dare.
CHAPTER SIX
Thank goodness for the little sundress she’d thrown into her bag at the last second. Otherwise Charlie would have been totally underdressed for the terrace, the table setting, the view.
And, most of all, for Sebastian.
He was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt that molded perfectly to his chest. Whether executive style, casual, or something in between, he made her pulse sizzle. She could actually feel her blood’s rapid thrum through her veins.
She raised her wineglass. “Your house is amazing.”
A Spanish style, it was bordered with a breathtaking profusion of hydrangeas, azaleas, camellias, and rhododendrons. Inside, the floors were terrazzo tile inset with Spanish mosaics. The furniture suited, as if it had come from an old hacienda.
The table on the terrace was intimately small, his knee close to hers, his scent as delicious as the food and more intoxicating than the wine. They were seated on a cozy terrace on the side of the house, with a view of the rolling hills, the suburban towns sprawled below, the San Mateo Bridge, the waters of the Bay, and the outline of a distant San Francisco. As Sebastian tapped his glass to hers with a ting of crystal, she felt the echo of its ring inside her.
“I’m glad you like it. But I didn’t design it.”
People rarely designed their own homes. But for some reason Sebastian seemed to think this was a failing on his part, even though she was fairly certain he hadn’t trained as an architect. “Tell me about the art on your walls,” she asked him, partly because it was all exquisite, but even more because she hoped it might give her more insight into the man behind the perfect face and the always immaculate clothes.
“I choose things I like, things that catch my eye, regardless of how much anyone else thinks they’re worth.”
Monet. Degas. John Singer Sargent portraits. She was all but certain they were the real thing, rather than prints. But there were also oils, watercolors, drawings, etchings, and a great deal of photography. He had an eclectic collection of art all over the house—sculptures by a relatively new artist named Vicki Bennett, Haitian ceremonial masks, wooden marionettes from Thailand, Burmese tapestries, elaborately feathered and beaded Pueblo kachina dolls, scrimshaw carvings, Satsuma vases.
His collection made the fact that he’d chosen her to create the fountain statue even more important—as though he actually thought she might be up there with all these brilliantly talented artists. Sebastian definitely wasn’t a snob when it came to art. He clearly didn’t care what anyone thought about his choices. Only that he loved them.
Another point notched in his favor.
A knock came and when Sebastian said, “Come on over, Rory,” the waiter rolled a trolley through the open patio doors. Hmm, were they called waiters when you were in your own home? She honestly had no idea, and had never expected to find out. Just as she’d never expected to fly over the Bay Area in a helicopter.
Or earn a hundred grand for one of her sculptures. She honestly wasn’t sure when she’d finally believe her work was worth that much money...
Smoothly, Rory removed their empty plates, stacking them on the bottom tray of the trolley. Dinner had been brochettes of beef, tomatoes, and roasted red peppers on a bed of risotto, plus broccoli seasoned with pepper and lemon. Charlie’s eyes had practically rolled back in her head when she tasted the beef, and Sebastian seemed delighted by her enjoyment, his gaze fixed on her mouth. He hadn’t touched her, yet somehow she felt as if his hands were doing delicious things to her all the while. If a breeze hadn’t blown through, she might have had to fan herself.
“English trifle,” Rory announced, placing their bowls with a flourish.
“Oh my,” Charlie gasped. “That looks delicious.”
“Thank you, Rory,” Sebastian said. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight.”
Sebastian wasn’t just polite and complimentary with his staff. He was downright friendly and clearly didn’t expect to be called sir or Mr. Montgomery. Given how well he was paying Charlie, she suspected Rory wasn’t being stiffed, either.
“Did you make all of this incredible food, Rory?” When the man nodded, she nearly leapt out of her chair to hug him. “I haven’t eaten so well since my mother’s last Thanksgiving feast.”
Looking pleased by her compliment, Rory topped up their wine, then rolled his trolley back in the way he’d come.
She picked up a spoon and had just dipped into the whipped cream, custard, and raspberry sponge cake of the trifle, when Sebastian said, “Wait. It will taste best if you eat it like this.”
Taking the spoon from her fingers, he brought it to her lips. “Close your eyes and let the flavors meld.”
His voice was low, seductive, and she almost groaned. Not just because of the rich, sweet taste on her tongue. It was because she wanted more.
So much more of him.
“Good, isn’t it?”
So good.
His sexy smile heated everything above the table. His knee against hers heated everything below. But then he leaned back and said, “Tell me why a beautiful woman like you isn’t attached.”
While his compliment made her blush, the conversational shift was so abrupt that she almost laughed. They’d spent the meal talking about her teaching, her art, the seminars he gave, the Mavericks.
“That’s a nosy question.” And one she wasn’t sure she was ready to delve into with him yet. She’d rather he just kept feeding her the trifle.
But when he grinned and agreed, “Very nosy,” her heart did a triple-time dance. The man’s grin was killer. As was his focus on wanting answers when he asked again, “So what’s the reason?”
“I’m a busy woman with two careers, and men take a lot of work.” She paused before deciding that two could play this game. “So I prefer not to keep them around for too long.” Nothing she’d said had been a lie. She’d simply left out the part about why she hadn’t kept any of the men around for very long—and how it might all have been different if she’d ever found anyone who appreciated her exactly the way she was, quirks, junkyard, and all.
“Your attitude is both refreshing and a little disturbing.”
“I like refreshing,” she said, although she’d heard that one plenty of times from the men she’d been with. They always found her refreshing at first. Until that became the problem. “But disturbing?”
“Well, if you’re a guy who actually wants to stick around...” He wasn’t teasing her anymore. In fact his gaze was surprisingly serious. “In any case, I hope you’re not done with me yet tonight, because I have a surprise. If you’d like to stay a little longer.”
Her heart already beating faster after the way he’d fed her the trifle, it now flipped completely. Stay? God yes, please, more than anything. But she needed to at least seem cool and collected. So she reached into her bag and retrieved a small box. “I have a little surprise for you too.”
“A woman bearing gifts.” Something about his comment made it seem as if he was usually the bearer of gifts, rather than the one receiving them. Setting the present on the table, he opened the flaps and reached inside, pulling out a small Zanti Misfit. Its eyes were made out of bolts and its pincers crafted of pruning shears. Sebastian lifted his gaze to hers for one intense moment before he rose from his chair to hunker at the edge of the terrace next to several terracotta pots filled with greenery. Placing the Zanti, he turned the creature slightly. “Perfect.”
Yes, she thought as she let herself drink him in for a long moment, he really was. Cool and collected? Around Sebastian? Who was she kidding?
“I’ll treasure it, Charlie. Always. Thank you.”
She’d meant it simply as a small thank-you for all he was doing for her, but seeing how much he appreciated the miniature sculpture filled her with unexpected joy. “You’re welcome.”
He held out his hand. “Time for my surprise.” As his fingers closed around hers, a thrill went through her, right down to her sandaled toes.
With nothing more than the touch of his hand, he made her feel reckless. Crazy. Yes, he was handsome, rich, and as mouthwatering in a suit as he was in jeans. He had a voice that strummed all her nerve endings, along with a touch that made her skin come alive and her body want to dance in age-old rhythms.
And yet, what she was feeling for him somehow went deeper than just his looks, his voice, or his touch. She’d never thought to give a man one of her Zanti Misfits before. And she was certain that no other man would have appreciated it as much as Sebastian did.
Her fingers tucked in his, he picked up their wineglasses in one hand, then led her through the formal part of the house, past his library, and into a smaller, more intimate room with a fully equipped entertainment center that rivaled the one in the bungalow. Black and white photos of forests and mountains and waterfalls adorned the walls. He splayed a hand toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She had visions of not only taking off her shoes, but sliding out of her sundress and panties too. Oh boy, she had it bad.
With a remote on the heavy wood coffee table, Sebastian turned on the TV. Several pieces of equipment lit up as he pushed buttons.
“We’re going to watch TV?” They were both exercising a great deal of self-control tonight, presumably to make sure the line between art and commerce didn’t blur on her first night here. But while she hadn’t thought he’d jump her right away, she hadn’t expected him to turn on the TV either.
“I found something special for you.” He sat down beside her, taking his half of the sofa out of the middle, her bare feet pressing against his thigh.
A movie began to stream. There were no opening credits, just a large, old-fashioned off-the-air symbol she hadn’t seen in years. Then the voice told her to sit back, because she was no longer in control of her TV set.
“Oh my God.” She gasped out a little laugh. “I can’t believe you found ‘The Zanti Misfits.’”
“I had to find out why you made an army of them. And I’m really glad I did, now that I have my very own.”
She instinctively knew he was telling the truth—that he hadn’t done it to impress her, but had simply wanted to know what inspired her. Which made perfect sense when she considered his career as a motivational speaker. He had to know people.
Still, it stunned her that he was so interested in knowing her.
“Popcorn,” she said, to resist throwing herself at him. “We need popcorn.”
Hitting Pause on the remote, he reached for a house phone on the side table and asked Rory if he could bring them popcorn. He seemed even closer, warmer, melting her all the way through as he sat back a moment later, pointed the remote, and the Zantis started their mischief.
