Page 53 of The Holiday Clause

When he paid the bill, slipping the black card across marble with practiced discretion, he made sure Wren didn’t see the cost. It wasn’t about the price. It was about showing her that he enjoyed treating her.

The clothes she’d arrived in were carried out in a boutique gift bag. He glanced at the quilted flannel shirt she’d worn as a jacket, fighting the urge to toss it into a bonfire when he got home. Leave it to Greyson to mark territory he never planned to occupy.

When they reached Salt & Ember, Soren didn’t wait for a valet to help her out. He opened her door and enjoyed the sight of her toned legs turning toward him in those sexy gold heels. The cool harbor breeze carried hints of salt and winter pine, mixing with the warm glow spilling from the restaurant’s windows. He took her arm and nodded to the attendant.

“Keys are in the console.”

A doorman stood at the entrance, his breath visible in the frigid air. “Good evening, Mr. Hawthorne.”

Soren kept a hand on Wren’s lower back at all times, getting her accustomed to his touch. The hostess recognized him as soon as they set foot in the foyer, and had their coats collected with efficient grace.

Salt & Ember sprawled like a gilded fortress on the coast, its stone facade weathered by decades of sea spray and winter storms. It had three floors and enclosed balconies that overlooked the harbor where the lighthouse illuminated the rocky banks. Fireplaces crackled in every dining room, casting dancing shadows that warmed the air with hints of vanilla and cedar. Candles flickered in the intimate ambiance, creating amber reflections across crystal stemware.

Despite the bitter cold, they lit the lanterns lining the stone path that led to the cliffs every night. He’d typically suggest a walk to the banks after dinner if not for the ice coating the ground like a treacherous mirror. As it was, the lanterns still made an elegant picture from the sweeping view they had on the third-floor enclosed balcony.

A waiter approached in black livery with a linen cloth draped over his arm. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

Soren suggested their finest champagne. Once the waiter retreated, he settled into the high-back velvet chair to study Wren. “Are you still mad at me?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t like high-handedness.”

He smirked playfully, enjoying how the jewels she picked elongated her neck and caught the candlelight. She was far sexier than she realized. “Was it high-handed, or was it charming? I think charming.”

“Don’t try that flirty stuff on me. I’m immune.”

“We’ll see about that.” His gaze dropped to the deep V of her dress, where silk clung to curves that had haunted his imagination. “You’re stunning. Blue suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“See how easy that was?”

The waiter appeared with the champagne, condensation beading along the sleek bottle. He described tonight’s menu in reverent tones. Soren studied Wren as she listened attentively, admiring her unique beauty that seemed to glow brighter in the intimate lighting.

Bohemian yet statuesque, Wren possessed the sort of body any man would have no trouble worshipping. Her skin glowed with health, just like her glossy blonde hair, thick and wavy, with natural sun-kissed highlights that caught the light. She’d truly grown into a gorgeous woman who didn’t seem to realize her own power.

“I’ll give you some time to decide.”

When the waiter quietly backed away, she rolled her eyes at Soren. “You’re over the top.”

“What can I say? I like to put on a good show.”

“Well, it’s enough already. I haven’t been this pampered...” She laughed, the sound like wind chimes in the warm air. “Ever.”

“That, beautiful, is a shame.” He laced his fingers with hers, and she stilled, her gaze dropping to their entwined hands as her smile slightly faltered.

“Soren.” Disentangling her fingers from his grip, she tucked her hands in her lap and sat back. “Um, I think we need to slow down.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a lot. First, the dress and the shoes and the jewelry. Then this place. You’re opening doors and holding my hand. Things are moving too fast for me.”

“I warned you I wasn’t going to waste time.”

“And I’m warning you to slow down. This is... weird. We’re friends.”

She didn’t understand, so he made himself crystal clear. “I’ve pictured you naked a dozen times, Wren. And that’s just today.”

“Soren!” she hissed, glancing around nervously, but they were alone, at the best seat in the house.