It was that style—the contrast of elegance and simplicity—that had drawn him in from the first. He knew, without question, that there would never be another woman who would move him in the same way.

Summer knew it had been days since she had fully relaxed. In fact, she hadn’t been able to relax at all since the accident with anyone but Blake. He’d given her support, but more importantly, he’d given her space. They hadn’t been together often over the past week, and she knew Blake was closing the deal with the Hamilton chain. They’d both been busy, preoccupied, pressured, yet when they were alone and away from Cocharan House, they didn’t talk business. She knew how hard he’d worked on this purchase—the negotiations, the paperwork, the endless meetings. Yet he’d put all that aside—for her.

Summer leaned toward him. “Sweet.”

“Hmm?”

“You,” she whispered under the dialogue on the screen. “You’re sweet.”

“Because I found a dreadful movie?”

With a chuckle, she reached for more popcorn. “It is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Terrible, which is why the theater’s nearly empty. I like it this way.”

“Antisocial?”

“No, it just makes it easier—” leaning closer, he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth “—to indulge in this sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Summer felt the thrill of pleasure start at her toes and climb upward.

“And this sort of thing.” He nipped at the cord of her neck, enjoying her quick little intake of breath. “You taste better than the popcorn.”

“And it’s excellent popcorn.” Summer turned her head so that her mouth could find his.

So warm, so right. Summer felt it was almost possible to say that her lips were made to fit his. If she’d believed in such things… If she’d believed in such things, she might have said that they’d been meant to find each other at this stage of their lives. To meet, to clash, to attract, to merge. One man to one woman, enduringly. When they were close, when his lips were heated on hers, she could almost believe it. She wanted to believe it.

He ran a hand down her hair. Soft, fresh. Just the touch of that and no more could make him want her unreasonably. He never felt stronger than when he was with her. And he never felt more vulnerable. He didn’t hear the explosion of sound and music from the speakers. She didn’t see the sudden kaleidoscope of color and movement on the screen. Hampered by the small seats, they shifted in an effort to get that much closer.

“Excuse me.” The young usher, who had the job until September when school started up again, shifted his feet in the aisle. Then he cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

Glancing up, Blake noticed that the house lights were on and the screen was blank. After a surprised moment, Summer pressed her mouth against his shoulder to muffle a laugh.

“Movie’s over,” the boy said uncomfortably. “We have to—ah—clear the theater after every show.” Glancing at Summer, he decided any man might lose interest in a movie with someone like her around. Then Blake stood, tall, broad shouldered, with that one aloofly raised eyebrow. The boy swallowed. And a lot of guys didn’t like to be interrupted.