Since speech was impossible, she nodded. When he turned his back to pour a glass of deep red wine, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the area where he’d touched her, could have sworn she still felt the heat of his fingers.
“Leo’s a flirt,” she finally managed to say, “and he doesn’t discriminate based on looks, age or marital status. All the women in the E.R. are half in love with him.”
He raised his eyebrows. “All?”
Was he jealous? She could only hope. “Maybe not all,” she said huskily, sending him a look from under her lashes.
“Good.” He handed her the wine, didn’t seem to notice her sexy tone or seductive look. She would have to work on them. “You’re way too good for my brother. Don’t ever forget that.”
She wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl. Wanted to swear to James—as in, cross her heart and hope to die—that she had absolutely zero interest in becoming the next woman to warm Leo’s bed. “I won’t.”
It was an easy enough promise to make. Sure, Leo had that whole charming, playboy thing going on, and he resembled a Roman god with his sharply chiseled face and dark eyes. But he wasn’t the kind of man a woman could count on. Wasn’t the type of man Char wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted a husband who was smart and responsible and successful. A man who would be there for her and their kids, who would be committed to his own career and supportive of hers, and active in the community they both loved.
James Montesano was going to make the perfect husband.
“I hear you’re looking to buy a place of your own,” he said.
She sipped her wine, hid a grimace. Yuck. She couldn’t stand the stuff. No matter what kind she tried, it always tasted like cough syrup. But if James drank wine, then she’d drink it.
And wish it was a beer instead.
“I’ve had enough of renting. It’s time I had something that’s mine, you know? A home, not just an apartment where I happen to sleep. And with Jenn getting married next spring, it seems like the right time.”
“Your roommate’s getting married? Isn’t she a little young?”
“She’s my age, so not so young.”
“Your age is plenty young,” he said, as if he was ancient.
Char pretended to take another drink. She’d wondered if the age difference would bother him. While she couldn’t say it thrilled her to have him think she was a little young, at least she now knew where she stood. And knowing was half the battle.
“You sound like Daddy.” As she’d hoped, he frowned at being compared to a middle-aged man. Good. Maybe that would help him realize he was still in the prime of his life. And having a wife ten years younger would only help keep him young.
“He wants me to move back home,” she continued, “which is so not going to happen.” Holding her glass with two hands, she let out a very put-upon-sounding sigh. “I just wish it wasn’t so hard finding a decent house. The last two I looked at in my price range were horrendous. I swear, I thought they were going to fall down around my ears. Luckily, I found one I think will work, but I have no idea if it’s worth the asking price or how much I’ll have to put into it. The real-estate agent said it needed a new roof, but what if there are other problems, ones that aren’t as easy to spot? The building inspector said he couldn’t get to it for at least a month and there’s no sense asking my dad.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll. “He’s no help whatsoever.”
“Tell you what,” James said, glancing at the doorway as if looking for someone, “why don’t I check the house out for you?”
Triumph flashed, hot and heady, inside her. That was easy.
The heavens really were on her side.
Still, she injected the right amount of hesitation in her voice when she said, “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that....”
“I’m offering.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind...I’ll take you up on it. This Friday work for you? Say, six?”
She held her breath while he took out his phone, checked his schedule. “Friday it is.”
“Great.” Taking her courage in hand, she stepped closer, touched his forearm. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he said, patting her fingers.
Their gazes met, and though she hadn’t planned on their first kiss taking place so soon in their relationship, she couldn’t pass up this perfect, breathless moment. All she had to do was let him know he could take the initiative. But how? Maybe if she slid her hand up to his bicep, rose onto her toes, he’d lean down and—
“Lottie!”
Startled, feeling as if she’d been caught molesting the poor man, Char whirled around. Blinked. “Sadie? Sadie!” she repeated and, with a laugh, ran to envelop her sister in a hug, keeping to herself how much Sadie had sounded like their mother. “What are you doing here?”
Sadie rocked them both from side to side then leaned back and held Charlotte by her upper arms. “It’s so good to see you. Oh, my God, you’re so grown up!”
Char glanced at James as her face warmed. Curse her fair complexion. At least the blush would camouflage her freckles. “I’ve been a grown-up for six years now.”
“Yes, but now you look like an adult instead of a college coed. And this is the first time I’ve seen you live and in person since you flew down to visit me in Memphis. That was what...two years ago?”
“Two and a half.” Though they did text almost daily and video chat once every few weeks. “Come home more than once every few years and my turning into an adult won’t be such a shock.”
Sadie waved that away. “I’m here now.”
Yes, but for how long? She wouldn’t ask. Lord knew Sadie didn’t share Char’s love of plans, schedules and goals. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“Naturally.” All of her carefree older sister’s decisions were spur-of-the-moment. “Did you know?” Char asked James.
He shook his head. “Not until an hour ago when she showed up in the driveway covered head-to-toe in mud with a dog in her front seat.”
Char laughed. “Oh, I have got to hear this story.”
She hugged Sadie again. Her sister was home and Char had taken those first, all-important steps in her plans to get James Montesano to fall in love with her.
Best. Night. Ever.
* * *
THE NIGHT WOULDN’T end.
Not that it was a bad party, Sadie thought as she let cold dishwater out of the kitchen sink. She just wasn’t in the mood for the whole celebration thing and the act that went with it. She’d played her part, though. No sense disappointing anyone or, God forbid, have them asking her questions about what was wrong, what was going on with her. So she’d made the rounds, flitted from group to group, bringing laughter and making a good time even better.
She was, after all, the life of any party.
Just like her father.
She wondered if it had ever worn him out.
“Sadie,” Rose said as she came into the kitchen, her tone less than friendly. She set down the almost empty fruit-and-cheese platter on the island. “You don’t have to do that.”
Sadie wiped out the sink then turned the water on hot. “It’s no