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“Have you ever looked at one of these flowers?” she asked. “I mean really looked at it? It’s quite fascinating.”
She looked heartbreakingly innocent. Even more so than usual. Alex sighed again. She’d probably mind.
Chapter 11
Emma immediately noticed the predatory gleam in Alex’s eye and braced herself for his attack.
Well, “braced” was perhaps not the most accurate word, she soon decided, recognizing the telltale fluttering of her stomach and quickening of her breath. With a barely audible sigh, Emma cursed herself for her weakness around this man. She gazed up at the handsome face that had become so achingly familiar to her. Alex’s green eyes glowed with the promise of something she didn’t quite understand but somehow yearned for all the same. Emma swallowed convulsively and wet her lips, lost in his emerald stare. Nervously, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and lowered her violet eyes. If she was going to be honest with herself— and she was desperately trying to do so, regardless of how difficult that task was proving to be—she really had to admit that the truth of the matter was that she wasn’t “bracing” herself for anything. In fact, she was eagerly awaiting Alex’s next move.
It was all no matter anyway, because Alex didn’t “attack,” and it was soon apparent that he had no plans in that direction. When Emma turned away, he did not reach over and touch her chin to raise her eyes back to his. Nor did he make any attempt to pull her into his arms. Rather, he turned back to the forgotten bottle of wine in his right hand and busied himself uncorking it.
Emma pushed an errant strand of fiery hair behind her ear and sighed again, wondering how long she and Alex were going to continue in this state of nearly constant tension. She hadn’t the least idea how the situation could be resolved, nor could she guess what the outcome would be, but she felt that somebody was going to have to do something, and soon. She looked up at Alex, who was pulling the cork out of the wine bottle with a flourish. “Do you need any help with anything?” she inquired politely, mentally scolding herself for not having the courage to say something bold.
The cork slipped out of the bottle with a loud “pop.” Alex looked up at Emma, who was sitting quietly, her dark skirts fanned out over her legs. “Well, I suppose you could unpack the lunch,” he replied, picking up the satchel. Their hands touched briefly as he handed her the bag, and Emma felt a sharp tingle travel up her arm. Almost involuntarily, she jerked her arm back, surprised by the intensity of her reaction to such a fleeting touch. She looked quickly back up to his face. Alex tore his gaze from her with just as much speed, but Emma could swear that she saw a shy smile cross his features before he saw to the task of pouring the wine. Good Lord, she must be losing her mind if she thought that Alex would ever entertain anything resembling a shy emotion.
Alex, meanwhile, was wondering how he was going to keep his hands off of her if he let himself look at her for more than a split second. “Tell me about your childhood,” he said quickly, eager to focus the conversation on something that could not possibly take a provocative turn.
“My childhood?” Emma took the wine glass he held out to her. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything,” Alex replied, lazily leaning back and resting on his elbows.
“I’m twenty years old,” she reminded him with a twinkle in her eye. “That’s quite a lot of time to cover in one afternoon.”
“Then tell me about the worst thing you ever did.”
“The worst thing?” Emma tried to look affronted but didn’t succeed, unable to suppress a few giggles. “Surely you don’t think I was a troublesome child?”
“Of course not,” Alex said mildly, taking a sip of his wine before placing the glass down on a flat spot of land. A devilish smile crept across his face. “I imagine you were a hellion.”
Emma laughed out loud and placed her glass down beside his. “Well, I surely looked like one.” She twirled a lock of her hair around her fingers. “If you think my hair is bright now, you should have seen me when I was ten. I looked like a carrot!”
Alex smiled at the thought of a miniature Emma racing around her Boston home.
“And I had so many freckles,” Emma continued.
“You still have a few across the bridge of your nose,” Alex could not help pointing out, thinking that he’d like to kiss every one of them.
“It is very ungentlemanly of you to notice,” Emma laughed, “but I’m afraid I have resigned myself to the fact that I will never be completely free of these wretched spots.”
“I find them rather endearing.”
Emma glanced away, a little startled by his tender compliment. “Oh. Well, thank you.”
“But you still haven’t answered my question.”
Emma looked back at him, a blank expression on her face.
“About the worst thing you did as a child,” Alex reminded her.
“Oh,” she said, trying to hedge the question. “Well, it’s pretty awful.”
“I cannot wait to hear it.”
“No, I mean it’s dreadful”
“You’re only succeeding in making me even more curious, love,” Alex said, a smile creeping across his tanned features.
“I’m not going to be able to avoid telling you about it, am I?”
“I’m the only one here who knows the way home.” Alex’s boyish smile told Emma that he knew he had her well and truly trapped.
“Oh, all right,” Emma sighed, conceding defeat. “It happened when I was thirteen. You know my father owns a shipping business, don’t you?”