“All business.”
Her lips pursed ever so slightly, and he had every intention of tasting them before the night was over.
Desiree looked from one to the other. “Hmm. Well, Lincoln and I are leaving soon,” she said to Olivia. “Ready?”
“Oh...okay.” Olivia made a move as if to leave.
“I’d be happy to drive you home if you aren’t ready now.”
Olivia flashed him a look. Did she need to be hemmed up with him in a car, with the irrational way her body was reacting to him? “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
His eyes narrowed. “Looking forward to it.”
“Then, I will see you two later,” Desiree said. She squeezed Olivia’s upper arm and wagged a warning finger at Connor. “Play nice.”
“Always.” He winked.
Desiree chuckled and went in search of her husband, Lincoln.
“You’re staying at The Port?” Connor asked.
“Yes. I am.”
“My cousin-in-law Layla runs the spa over there.”
Olivia brightened as the pieces clicked in place. “You’re related to Maurice and Layla?”
“Maurice is my first cousin.”
“You get discounts on the massages?”
“No. But I give pretty good massages.” Connor tipped his head to the side and looked at her from beneath a veil of thick lashes. “So I’ve been told.”
Her heart thumped.
“Walk?”
She gave a slight shrug. “Sure.”
He placed his hand at the small of her back, right above the rise of her very round derriere. He took a quick peek. Lovely.
She felt the heated imprint of his palm, wanted it lower. Warmth spread between her inner thighs.
Connor guided her away from the house and across the slope toward the beach. The rushing sound of the ocean rolling toward the shore and beating against the rocks grew stronger.
“How long have you been here?” Connor asked.
“Just about three weeks.”
“Surprised we haven’t met sooner.”
“I’ve been buried in notes and journals since I arrived. Desiree convinced me that I needed a break and got me invited here tonight.”
“I’ll have to thank Desiree.”
“For what?”
“For realizing that you needed to take a break. Otherwise think of all the time wasted before we would’ve met.”
Everything he said was an invitation. He kept opening the door, waiting for her to step through. She wouldn’t be that easy. Not now. Not just yet. “What about you? How long have you been here?”
“Almost a year. I got commissioned to work on the restoration last summer.”
“What are some of the other projects you’ve worked on?”
“Hmm, brownstones on Strivers Row, theaters, African burial grounds in Manhattan...” He shrugged. “Things like that. What about you?”
“I’ve visited the burial grounds and examined the remains. It was quite surreal to realize who those people were...our ancestors,” she said with quiet reverence. “How did you get started?”
He was thoughtful for a moment, looked skyward. “The incident that pushed me was when I took a trip to Goree Island in Senegal during my first year in college.”
“Incredible place,” she enthused. She stopped, bent down and took off her shoes. She looped the straps over her fingers.
Connor followed suit as they approached the sandy beach. “How long is your project?”
“Much of it depends on what I find.” She tilted her head toward him for a moment, then looked away. The sand was warm beneath her feet. She flexed her toes, letting the grains run over and between them. “This feels good.”
“What night are you free?”
“Free?”
“For drinks and dinner.”
“Oh. Umm, Tuesday,” she said randomly.
“Eight good for you.” It wasn’t really a question.
“Yes. Eight sounds fine.” His scent drifted to her. Her lids fluttered.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
Ready. There was that tone of invitation again, skidding up her spine.
“I could stay out here until sunrise,” she said, wistfully gazing out to the horizon. “But—” she angled her head toward him “—I do have a busy day tomorrow.”
Connor placed his hand at the dip in her back again. She sucked in air.
“Then, I’d better get you home.”
* * *
“I really appreciate this,” Olivia said while she fastened her seat belt. The entire interior of the vehicle held his scent, something hunky and sensual that she couldn’t quite name but wanted more of.
“Not a problem. Besides—” he put the car in gear “—I was ready to leave. These gatherings aren’t really my thing.”
“I would have never thought that.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. “Why not?”
She recalled the way Lydia had clung to him, the way the women in the room reacted when he passed, his relaxed demeanor. “You seemed in your element. Comfortable.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he said. “As we both know from the work we do.” He tossed her an amused look.
“Hmm, true,” she conceded. “So why isn’t it your thing?”
“Let’s just say that the Lawson legacy is steeped in ‘gatherings.’ Instead of sleepovers or street games or sports with your friends, we were indoctrinated in the art of ‘climbing the social ladder’ through an endless stream of things like tonight.”
The jaded tone of his voice was not lost on Olivia.
“I’d want to go hang out with my friends, drink, smoke, stuff that teens do, but I would be corralled along with my siblings and cousins to attend galas and coming-out parties and political fund-raisers.” He pushed out a sigh. “So, yeah, I guess you could say that I appeared to be in my element. It’s second nature. I can move through these things with my eyes closed.” He turned his head toward her. “Then there you were.”
A shiver raced through her system, halting her breath for a hot second. She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.
“And no...I don’t say that to all the girls,” he said, with a wink and a smile that loosened the knot in her throat.
“That’s what all the boys say,” she teased back.
“Touché.”
They pulled onto the property of The Port.
“I’m on the end. At the top of the ridge.”
Connor made the turn and continued on the short winding road.
“It’s the one on the right.”
He pulled up in front of her cottage and cut the engine.
Olivia’s