Neither of them moved.
Light reflecting softly off the snowdrifts lit a glimpse of summer sky in his eyes as his gaze slid over the contours of her face, coming to rest on her lips. She experienced it like a physical caress and felt her mouth soften in response. Dazed, she was already visualizing the kiss when his voice broke in with the hard crash of reality.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“What?”
Blood rushed to her face as she jerked herself out of his arms, embarrassed to realize that she’d been mooning over the man like a lovesick teenager hoping for a kiss at the end of a first date.
She reached out a hand to the fence and steadied herself, feeling the twist of wrought iron radiate cold like an icy bone in her clenched fingers.
“I thought you might not come,” he repeated patiently, tucking his hands carefully into his coat pockets. “Based on the outcome of our first meeting.”
“Based on the—” She sucked in frigid winter air and welcomed the cold pain in her lungs as it swept the fog from her brain. “So you lied. And on top of that, you implied in your little note that I’d be too scared to show up.”
“I thought that might get you here, even if it was only to yell at me. And since I am in fact a representative of the firm, I wasn’t lying, strictly speaking.”
“Tell me, Counselor, are the intimidation tactics part of your hourly billing, or did you charge my great-aunt extra for that?”
“I did what I had to do.”
Back on firmer ground, squared off against him like a prizefighter in the ring, she grabbed on to her anger and used it as a shield against other more confusing emotions. In the swirl of anger and attraction, of unwanted hurt and even more unwanted awareness of the man standing in front of her, the scents of old leather and warm vanilla spices still lingering on her clothes from where she’d been pressed up against him—Jesus, the man even smelled rich—one thing was clear. She should be asking herself the same question she’d thrown at him. What the hell was she doing here?
She didn’t need this, any of it, and she didn’t want it.
The realization settled like a burlap sack of wet sand on her shoulders, with none of the elevated light and joy she somehow thought she should feel upon deciding to walk away from her great-aunt, Spencer Reed and this entire mess.
“You did what you had to do.” She repeated his words, rolling them slowly around in her mouth as if they were part of a new dish whose taste she wasn’t sure she cared for. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. The rules of polite society don’t apply to you, do they? You’re a lawyer.”
She opened her mouth, the torrent of scathing words near to bursting the dam, when she realized that she was just prolonging the encounter. Her teeth clicked sharply together as she snapped her jaw shut, shook her head, turned and walked away.
“Addy, please.”
The voice, low and quiet, calling her name the way a friend or a family member or a lover would, made her pause, though she didn’t turn around. She’d known the man for less than two days and it already seemed like every time she tried to walk away from him, he managed to get one last word in.
“Just take a look at the place, please.” The words slid around her like a gentle hand, curling around her elbow and tugging softly in his direction. “We’ll both go inside and get warm, I’ll explain some of the details to you and you won’t take any potshots at my profession.”
Her bark of laughter startled them both.
She had to see the look on his face after that, and the need brought her back to him where he stood in front of the wrought-iron gate up to his ankles in snow and looking perplexed by her sudden burst of laughter.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” All at once, her humor in the situation was genuine. “My potshots at your profession?”
For once, Spencer’s reserved facade slipped. She could see the physical moment when he remembered his comments to her the day before, and watched him visibly flinch. The sheepish grin and the brow slightly lifted in guilty acknowledgement begged her forgiveness, and the words swiftly followed.
“And I’ll continue to apologize for my massive and completely unprofessional lack of courtesy yesterday morning. What do you say?”
Addy bit her lip, chewing off her raspberry-flavored Chap Stick and feeling the last bit of warmth seeping out of her body. She started to shiver. Lord, it was cold.
Spencer took a step toward her, bringing his face clearly into the light for the first time. The skin of his face as it followed the sharp contours of his cheekbones was pale. She wondered abruptly if he’d been standing outside this gate and waiting for her since six o’clock. She’d stubbornly delayed until the last minute before driving over here, a gesture that had felt independent at the time but now seemed merely childish.
“Addy.” He stood close enough now to encompass her in his shadow, the streetlight behind him making a golden halo out of his hair. He lifted a hand and nudged her chin up with gloved fingers until her gaze met his again. She was conscious of her own breathing, the scratchiness of the knit wool cap pulled low on her brow, the dull ache in her fingers and toes. If she didn’t pay attention, she might forget to take her next breath.
His thumb scraped lightly along her jaw. Tucked a rampant curl behind her ear. Her ears were ice.
“Addy, it’s not really me that you’re mad at here.”
Like the ice of a frozen lake cracking beneath the blades of a skater, the moment shattered. Irritated again, she snapped a wave at the gate.
“Let’s get on with it, Reed. And keep the psychoanalysis to yourself. If I want a therapist, I’ll hire one who doesn’t know how to sue me sixteen ways from Sunday.” She raised her hands in the air, cutting off any response. “Sorry.”
“Right.” He exhaled sharply. A set of keys jangled in his hand as he wrestled with the frozen lock on the gate. “Sorry about the hedges. Your great-aunt meant to have them cut back, but time got away from her.”
For the first time, Addy noticed the towering wall of hedges pressing against the fence, leaning heavily over the iron spikes capping the fence rails. Branches struggled to squeeze through the narrow gaps between rails, reaching out to snag unwary pedestrians. Icicles as thick as her wrists pulled heavy boughs earthward in dangerous arcs.
“Jesus,” she breathed. “It’s the briar wood surrounding Sleeping Beauty’s castle.”
When Spencer laughed, she simply raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, all those knights in shining armor impaled themselves on the thorns and died horribly painful deaths in those hedges.”
“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing I left my armor at home today,” he said, swinging the gate wide open before her. “Come on in, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Right,” she muttered as she stepped onto a clean-swept walk that drew a straight line to the front door. Or presumably it did. At the moment, with the snow-laden heights of the hedges blocking off the street, the yellow wedge of light arcing in from the gate was the only illumination. Although she could pick out the outline of the house—high, peaked roofs and other mysterious shapes—against the light of the city sky, details of the building itself were invisible.
“Got a flashlight, Reed?”
“Dammit. If the power’s out again…” Spencer brushed past her. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Again?”
She stomped her feet and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. After a minute or two, a light flickered from what looked like a porch. The man had apparently dug up his own flashlight.
“I’m going to check the fuse box…” His