“I will not. Tell me.”

“Louisa May Alcott. Little Women.”

Sarah covered her mouth. “I love that book. I must have read it seventeen times.”

“When I read it as a kid, I used to imagine I was one of the sisters and Marmie was my mother. She would oversee my homework and tuck me into bed at night, and I can’t believe I just told you that.” Emory shook her head in wonder and stared down at her plate, her cheeks reddening.

“I love that you just told me that.”

“What about you? What’s yours?”

“I like all the great romances. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, and oh, Gone With the Wind. Love that one. Then there’s the movie version. The scene when Scarlett enters the birthday party in that red gown looking anxious but defiant, I’m so right there.”

“That is a great scene.”

“I dressed up as her once for Halloween. I was a hit.”

“I’m sure you were. How old were you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Emory laughed and Sarah reveled in the sound of it.

“So what else do you partake in, Emory? Quail hunting, international espionage, synchronized swimming?”

“Nope. I’m utterly boring.”

“You’re not, and believe me, I keep waiting for the moment you are.”

“Well, there’s plenty of time for that, right?”

Sarah looked up from her champagne and grinned. Her tone softened noticeably. “Yeah, I guess there is.”

Sarah loved how easy it was to talk to Emory. They’d developed a quick cadence between them that was comfortable and fun. She enjoyed the humor they shared and even appreciated their different perspectives on things. Emory knew aspects of life she never had a clue about and vice versa. It was enthralling.

The wind picked up considerably during the meal and Sarah felt the house shake periodically from the strength of the gusts. As they cleared the dishes, she gazed out at the darkness of the angry looking surf. “Are you at all concerned about your windows?” she finally asked. “This house is made of a lot of glass.”

“Not to worry. It’s all been reinforced many times over, a necessity for living where I do. I did tether down the patio furniture before it started to rain though. I hope I did a good enough job or you might see one of the deck chairs fly away to Oz. Other than that, the house is completely secure. Do storms scare you?”

“Not usually. I’ve always thought they were kind of cool, but then I’ve never actually been right on the water for one.” At that, a very loud, ominous clap of thunder struck causing Emory to jump noticeably.

Sarah raised a speculative eyebrow. “Do they scare you?”

“Not a chance.” Emory shrugged quickly and went about busily tidying up the kitchen. Sarah observed for a moment before moving to her and resting her hands on Emory’s waist from behind. “Fess up. Do storms freak you out?”

Emory turned in Sarah’s arms and blew out a breath. “A little. But don’t tell anyone. A CEO who’s afraid of a little thunder could inspire a few jokes at the office.”

“Luckily, I like it when you and I share secrets and would never jeopardize that.”

Emory gently fluffed Sarah’s hair. “In all fairness, you should have to tell me a secret now.”

“Is that right? That would even things out for you?”

Emory smiled and nodded decisively. “It would.”

“Okay. What if I told you that I was nervous?”

“Nervous about what?” Emory took a step back to see her better.

“Nervous about us…tonight.”

Emory nodded, took Sarah’s hand, and kissed the back of it. “Tonight doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be, and I mean that. I just want to spend time with you, Sarah, and be with you in whatever way makes you comfortable. I have Scrabble in the closet, and I don’t want to brag, but I’m really good. We could play until two a.m. and I would have the best time in the world because it would be us, together.”

Sarah was touched. The truth was that she hadn’t been nervous until somewhere in the midst of dinner. She knew she wanted Emory, but the logistics had her head spinning a tad. It had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and it was possible she was suffering from a little stage fright. But now, hearing the gentle tone in Emory’s voice was enough to cause a physical ache in her throat, and it was all the reassurance she needed.

She moved into Emory’s arms and stayed there, wondering how she’d gone so long without Emory in her life. She pulled back and met Emory’s eyes with a very serious stare. “While Scrabble sounds like a blast, I think I’ll take a rain check.” A long pause. “Did you catch that? Rain…check?” At Emory’s burst of laughter and subsequent poke in the ribs, Sarah scampered away gleefully to sit by the fire, snatching up her champagne glass as she went.

Emory refilled her own glass and joined Sarah on the floor in front of the fireplace a short time later. “Speaking of rain, I’m not sure you ever completely dried out.” She ran a hand across the back of Sarah’s damp green button up shirt. “I guess I should have offered earlier, but would you like to borrow some clothes?”

“I’m not sure we wear the same size, but I’ll take a shirt from you if you’ve got one.”

Emory returned from her upstairs bedroom with a Stanford sweatshirt in hand. She hadn’t hit the bottom step when a clap of thunder hit and the lights went out. Silence. “Well, that makes things a little ominous.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, you’re safe. Head back over to the fire. All is well over here.”

Emory made her way back to Sarah through the now darkened living room and handed her the sweatshirt. It was impossible to not watch Sarah unbutton the damp blouse she wore and let it fall loosely from her shoulders. Emory couldn’t have turned away if she’d wanted to. The firelight danced across the smooth expanse of olive skin as Sarah lifted her arms and pulled the sweatshirt over her head. The red bra Emory glimpsed and tops of full breasts just about did her in. Swallowing hard in an attempt to control her body’s visceral reaction to the sight, she excused herself into the kitchen to dig up a few candles.

Sarah waited patiently for Emory to return, very much enjoying the warm, comfortable sweatshirt that smelled exactly like Emory did. Hugging it to her, she was already plotting a way to keep it. When Emory did return, she took a moment to light a few votive candles and place them at different spots throughout the room. Their warm, gentle glow gave the space a very romantic look and feel that Sarah simply could not let go to waste.

“Come sit with me. Let’s watch the fire.” She reached out and took Emory’s hand, pulling her gently onto the floor and scooting herself in front, so she could rest her back against Emory’s chest. Emory’s arms wrapped around her snuggly from behind and she sighed with contentment. They sat in silence, watching the fire’s unpredictable dance and listening to the sound of the rain pelt the shingles. Sarah couldn’t imagine anywhere she’d rather be. “How’s Walter?”

“Amazingly enough, sound asleep. I think he’s just happy not to be out in this. You should see him. He’s doing his Super Dog pose. Sleeping on his back with all four paws in the air. It’s impressive.”

“He has so much personality. It’s a nice thing you did, taking him in. So I guess you’re going to keep him?”

“If no one comes forward to claim him. I took a photo and had my assistant post it on a few lost dog websites as well as the homeowner’s association page. I never thought I’d be a dog owner.”

“You’re more of a softy than you let on, you know.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I would never. It’s kind of nice though. Seeing you branch out a bit. You’re hanging out with kids, adopting dogs, watching mindless movies.” Her tone slid into sincerity then. “One day, I hope you paint again.”

They watched the fire.

“Sarah, I need to tell you something.”