After Dark

Batherton House was a typical Charleston-style double house with both first-and second-floor porches that dominated the front of the house. The central hallway separated the house, with rooms on either side. In the days before air conditioning, this allowed for better ventilation. There were some historic homes in downtown Charleston that still didn’t have full central air, but they were museums. Sloan and her fellow committee members were so thrilled to see the house coming alive again, that they certainly weren’t going to argue about an absolutely necessary mechanism for comfort in steamy South Carolina.

Thinking of steamy, she immediately thought of Aidan. A bead of sweat rolled down her back into the waistband of her jeans. She waved her hand in front of her face. Maybe she should have worn the skirt.

After ringing the doorbell, she forced herself to think enticing and positive thoughts and planted a bright smile on her face.

Which faded when Pete opened the door.

She glanced at her watch, though she knew it was just after seven o’clock. “Ah…hey, Pete,” she said, looking over his shoulder and hoping to see Aidan.

But she didn’t.

Pete stepped back, inviting her inside. “Hey, Miss Caldwell. I was closer to the door, so Mr. Kendrick asked me to answer it.”

She adjusted the grocery bag on her hip. “Oh.”

She was so insignificant as a date that not only was he not ready for her arrival, he also had his handyman playing butler? Why did she always manage to find the insensitive—

“Sorry, I’m not ready,” Aidan said, walking quickly toward her from the other end of the hall and wiping his hands on a cloth. “Pete and I were finishing up and lost track of time.” He took the bag from her hands.

His face glistened with sweat; his dark hair curled across his forehead. Stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked, as always, alluring, strong and delicious.

Her annoyance vanished.

Was that weak? Probably.

“I’m going,” Pete said. “I’ll get my stuff.” He grinned. “I have a hot date myself.”

When he wandered into the parlor, Sloan asked Aidan, “Between us, am I the hot date, or are you?”

“Definitely you. I’m sweaty.”

“I could start making the salad while you shower.”

Leaning toward her, he smiled that amazing smile, his eyes lighting with sensual sparks. “Or you could join me.”

4

SLOAN let her gaze glide over the planes of Aidan’s body.

Tempting?

Definitely.

Still, that luscious package came with a whole lotta baggage.

“That’s quite presumptuous of you, Mr. Kendrick,” she said, though she slid the tip of her finger down his broad chest as she spoke. “I think I’ll make the salad instead.”

She took the bag back from him and headed toward the kitchen. Behind her, she heard the murmurs of Aidan’s and Pete’s voices.

As she grew closer, the scent of spaghetti sauce washed over her. Clearly, Aidan had been doing something besides hammering all day.

She set her bag on the counter, then crossed to the stove, lifting off the stock-pot lid and inhaling deeply. She recognized lots of oregano, basil and garlic. A man who knew his history and his sauces was pretty much irresistible.

As she pulled lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers from the grocery bag, she also noted that her name and phone numbers were still hanging on the fridge door and found it oddly comforting that he’d saved them. Smiling, she pulled out the wide-rimmed wooden bowl she’d brought along with the food.

“You brought a bowl?”

She glanced over her shoulder as Aidan approached. “And silverware and wineglasses. Your provisions are sparse, as I recall.”

“Were sparse.” He opened a drawer beside her, revealing brand-new silverware. “Already been through the dishwasher and everything. Plus…” He swung open a cabinet beside the sink. “New dishes. The ceramic kind. And wineglasses.” He reached into another cabinet and pulled out two, setting them on the counter.

She batted her lashes. “All for little ol’ me?”

“Yes.”

He looked so pleased with himself, her breath caught. If the man was going to start being charming, she was in big trouble.

You’re already in big trouble.

“Sorry I wasn’t ready when you got here,” he said, moving closer. “We were on a roll today.”

She swallowed as her heart rate picked up speed. “The banister to the stairs is up.”

His silver eyes flashed with pleasure. “You noticed.”

“Of course. It’s beautiful.”

“It makes a difference. The other railing was rickety, possibly dangerous, and now it looks finished.”

“And welcoming,” she said.

He drew his brows together. “Welcoming, huh? You don’t think people will want to come over and look at it, do you?”

Charm was clearly a brief and impulsive state for him. The man was warily unsociable in the extreme. “Gee, wouldn’t that be horrible?”

“Yes.” His gaze searched hers. “Really, it’s only your opinion that matters.”

Seriously? She smiled. Maybe she was making an impression. Maybe—

“Because of your connection to the historical committee,” he added.

Then again, maybe not. “Of course.”

Yet he’d invited her to dinner. He was obviously attracted to her. He was certainly interested in her. Whether he liked her—or anybody else—was another subject entirely.

He’d been through a traumatic time lately. Parents’ deaths. Violent crime. Media frenzy. They were bound to throw even the strongest off stride. And she suspected Aidan was the one who usually threw others off balance.

As did she.