Jumping at the sound of his voice while feeling like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, I nearly knocked over the arrangement of frames. Spinning around, I stared up at Van and tried to come up with a reason why I’d be in his private office. “You said to make myself at home.”

He came closer and took the framed photo of the girl from my hand. His tone and tenor were measured. “As my fiancée, there’s no place in this house you aren’t welcome. As the person writing my memoir, this is off-limits.”

“Who is she?” I asked, tilting my head toward the framed picture now in his grasp.

Van’s jaw clenched as he stared down unblinkingly at the photo.

Swallowing, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Never mind. I overstepped.”

“She’s my niece.” He set the picture down where it had been. “That picture was taken by a private detective that I use periodically. I’m not exactly close to my family.” He feigned a smile. “Good news, my side of the wedding will be small.”

“What happened with your family?” I asked, wondering if this had anything to do with his change of last name.

Van took a deep breath. “Forget about that.” His smile grew and cadence changed. “I have a surprise for you.”

“For me? No, not a gift. Van, I don’t have anything to give—”

His finger came to my lips. “You are my gift, Julia. Don’t worry about buying me anything, ever. If something catches my eye and I want it, I get it.”

“It sounds like you’re tough to buy for.”

“I prefer the gift of watching you.”

“Watching me what,” I asked suggestively, thankful the conversation had veered away from my nosiness.

Van ran his finger over my cheek. “Watching your beautiful blue eyes as they swirl with emotion and passion. Your expressions speak volumes.” His finger came to my lips. “When your mouth is unable to make anything but indistinguishable noises, your expression shows your every thought.”

Warmth climbed up my neck to my cheeks.

“And when you blush,” he said with a grin.

Pressing my lips together, I looked over at a clock. “Is it noon already?”

“No, I couldn’t stay away.” Van took my hand and led me out of the office, down the hallways of the south wing toward the front of the house and beyond the large living room into the foyer. We kept going through the glass doors and into the entry. Finally, Van opened the tall front door.

As the cold air swirled around us, a grin overtook my face. “You have a wreath.”

Hanging from a long over-the-door hook was a giant wreath made of fresh pine and decorated with balls of gold and silver, perfect for the large door to his huge home.