Chapter Twelve

Standing in the doorway Stephanie looked to the enormous SUV parked in her driveway and then back at Richie.  “We’re going to get soaked just going out there to your car.”  The rain hadn’t let up at all.  It was coming down so hard she could barely see across the street.

He nudged her out the door, “better wet now and warm later.  Go on,” he pushed a button on his key fob, “it’s unlocked.”

Pulling the door closed behind them she dashed to the car and vaulted into the passenger seat, laughing when Richie climbed in and slammed his door.  “Damn, this rain is out of control.”

He looked over at her; the shoulders of her sweatshirt were dark and wet and drops of rain glistened in her hair and rained down onto the seat as she shook her head.  Reaching over, one long finger traced a raindrop as is slid down from her temple to her chin.  When she didn’t flinch or turn away, he hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head as he leaned in.  His lips brushed hers ever so gently before he straightened and started the car. “I can’t remember the last time it rained like this.”

She was quiet as he backed out of the driveway and headed down the street.  The rapid slap-wipe of the windshield wipers was the only sound in the car other than the drumming of her heart that was beating as fast and hard as the rain on the roof.  She hadn’t been kissed, or touched by a man for that matter, in nearly two years.  She had been so sure she didn’t want to be with a man other than Mark that she hadn’t even entertained the idea.  But now, with that one barely there touch of his pillowy soft lips, she was beginning to rethink that idea.

Tentatively, she reached her hand across the wide leather bench, her fingers curling over his pinkie and ring finger where they rested on the seat.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw his mouth curve in a slight smile.  “Do you mind if I turn on the radio?”

He stopped for a red light.  “Go ahead.”  He’d be damned if he was going to move his hand even a second before he absolutely had to.  She was starting to come around and he didn’t want to do anything to discourage her.

With Eric Clapton’s wailing guitar filling in around their conversation, the slow arduous ride was over before they knew it.  Stephanie couldn’t hold back the gasp as he rolled up to the gate and punched in his code.  “Holy…”

He looked over at her.  “What’s wrong?”

She could only stare as they drew closer to the house before a line from one of her favorite musical movies tumbled past her lips.  “Is this the train station?  Are we taking a train?”  His house was enormous.  Taking in the sprawling Mediterranean-influenced structure, she felt a little intimidated.  She had seen pictures on the internet after word had gotten out that he was moving, but it was nothing compared to seeing it live and in person.

He had to laugh at her Annie reference.  “No, we’re not taking a train.  This is just my house darlin’.”  He followed the driveway around the curve to the garage where he reached up to the visor and pushed the button to open the door.

She whistled low at the Ferrari that was parked next to the silver Aston Martin.  “Nice car.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers from hers and parked the hummer.  “Thanks.  Maybe next week we can wash that one.”

She smiled, “maybe, if we don’t get washed away with all this rain.”

He got out and grabbed her crock pot from the floor in the backseat.  “Come on, I’ll give you the fifty cent tour and then you can tell me what’s in this pot.”

“Does the tour come with a map?  I’m liable to get lost if left on my own.” 

He just smiled and shook his head as he headed toward the door.  She was something else.  He kind of liked it. 

She followed him in the door and into what she presumed was the mudroom.  She did as he and took off her shoes, following along the hallway that opened up to the largest kitchen she had ever set foot in.  The honeyed cabinets went on for miles, the lower cupboards topped with black marble counters and appliances that were artfully camouflaged by the same wood tone as the cupboards.  It was the most amazing kitchen she had ever seen.

He set her crockpot down on a counter and it looked lost there all by itself.  Plugging it in her turned to her.  “This is the kitchen.”

Her fingertips grazed the cool marble countertop as she moved toward him.  “Really?  Never would have guessed.”

He snorted out a laugh and reached for her hand, she was making him itchy the way she was just about caressing his counters.  “Come on smart ass; let me show you the rest.”

They wended their way through 10,000 square feet of house and Stephanie was in awe.  The sitting/living rooms were large and open with daylight flooding the space.  She recognized the room with the gleaming piano from the pictures she had seen of him and Ava.  The double staircase was like something out of a movie and the bedrooms were spacious and inviting.   When he showed her the bathroom she had to laugh.  “Is this the infamous bathroom where you and Jon wrote This is Love This is Life?

Smiling and shaking his head he led her back downstairs and into the game room.  He kept forgetting she was a fan.  She had never really come right out and admitted it, but he knew just the same.  “Yes that’s the one.”  He turned and watched her roam the room.  “Wanna watch a movie?”  He opened the doors of the large entertainment unit to reveal a 65 inch LED/LCD television and indicated to the shelves that were on the far wall.  “Take your pick.” He had a media room as well, but Ava used that for her and her friends and it was more comfortable in here anyway.

Stephanie’s fingers stilled on the deep green felt of his cherry pool table and looked up. “Wow… that’s a big television.”  She moved across the room to the shelves that housed more movies than she could count.  “In the mood for anything in particular?”

He shook his head and picked up a remote.  “Whatever you want is fine with me.  Do you like popcorn?”

She glance out the window, it was still raining; the perfect weather for an old black and white movie.  “How about this one?”  She handed him Casablanca.

Opening the case he put the movie in the player and pressed another button to start the movie.  “Great choice.  Now, let’s go get some popcorn.”

She followed him back to the kitchen, shivering slightly.  Her sweatshirt was still wet and it was making her cold. 

After putting the popcorn in the microwave, Richie turned and noticed her rubbing her hands up and down her arms.  “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

She nodded her head, “a little.  My sweatshirt is still wet.”

He gaze slid up to her shoulders, the shirt was still dark from their run to his car.  “I’m sorry darlin’.  Why don’t you go ahead and take it off and we’ll put it in the dryer.”

She shook her head, “that’s okay, I’ll be fine.”  She was only wearing a thin tank top under the sweatshirt. 

He reached over to the hem and started to tug slightly.  “Come on, you don’t want to catch a cold do you?  I’m sure I’ve got something you could put on until yours is dry.”

She let her fingers close over his.  What would be the harm in just borrowing a dry shirt?  Before she could think too hard about it, she let him raise the shirt up and over her head.  She flipped her still damp hair back and crossed her arms over her chest. 

Richie’s eyes widened and dilated as he caught a glimpse of a creamy, flat tummy as her shirt slid up. Her clothes had been hiding a slimmer, tighter body than he had imagined.  Her arms were nicely toned and her legs looked a mile long in those slim fitting yoga style pants.

“Rich?”  She was starting to feel slightly self conscious under his long perusal of her.  She knew she was no Hollywood starlet, but she didn’t think she looked too bad.

He cleared his throat and moved across the room toward the back hallway.  “Sorry, I’ll be right back.  Can you check the popcorn?”  He headed toward the laundry room, desperately trying to get his body under control.  He hadn’t expected to have such a reaction to seeing her like that. 

Grabbing her one of his sweatshirts he took a breath and headed back to the kitchen.  Stephanie was standing by the sink, popcorn bag in hand.  “Need a bowl?”

~

Settling themselves on the wide leather sofa, Stephanie set the popcorn between them and Richie put his feet up on the oversized ottoman and started the movie.  “I don’t bite you know.”  Stephanie had tucked herself into the corner at the other end of the sofa from him.

She eyed him carefully.  He had grabbed the popcorn bowl and had it in his lap.  Unwinding her legs, she slid down the sofa until she was next to him and she reached into the popcorn bowl.  “I think we’ve had that ‘you don’t bite’ conversation before.”

He chuckled around a mouthful of popcorn as he remembered their conversation from the first time they had met.  His fingers found hers in the bowl and he brought them to his mouth.  “I nibble darlin’.”  He demonstrated, his teeth grazing her fingertips every so lightly.  “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Her gaze went from her fingers and his lips up to his eyes.  Her voice was a little shaky and breathy when she finally spoke.  “Maybe you should just start the movie.”