“Well, I do, and you’ll just have to tolerate it.” He was more at ease again, because she wasn’t. He took a step toward her. “Take off your—” He nearly laughed when her eyes widened. “Your hat,” he finished, then did so himself, setting it and his wine aside so he could run his hands through her hair until it tumbled in a way that most pleased him. “Have a seat.”

He nudged her into a chair, sat across from her. “Why don’t you take off your boots?”

She leaned down, tugged on the laces, then sat up again. “Do you have to watch me? You make me feel foolish.”

“If you feel foolish with me watching you take off your boots, you’re going to feel like a real horse’s ass before much longer. Take off your boots, Brenna,” he said in a quiet voice that sent a ripple running up her spine. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about the matter.”

“I haven’t.” Annoyed, she bent down again to work on the boots. “I started this, and I finish what I start.”

But it wasn’t at all the way she’d imagined it. She’d simply pictured the two of them already naked, in bed, getting on with business. She hadn’t given a great deal of thought to the mechanics of arriving there.

She kicked her boots under the table and made herself look back at him, steadily back at him.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” She couldn’t conceive of eating under the circumstances. “Dad and I had a late lunch.”

“All the better. We’ll eat later. Let’s take the wine upstairs.”

Upstairs. All right, they’d go upstairs. It had been her idea, after all. But when he took her hand this time, she had to force herself not to bolt. “This isn’t a fair way, Shawn. I’ve just come from working all day, and haven’t had a chance to clean up.”

“Would you like a shower, then?” As they walked up the back stairs, he rubbed the smudge from her cheek. “I’m happy to wash your back.”

“I’m just saying, that’s all.” She couldn’t shower with him, for God’s sake. Not just like that. The music drifted toward her, a whisper of harpsong. Her nerves were screaming.

She stepped into the bedroom, saw the flowers, the candles, the bed. And gulped her wine like water.

“Easy now.” He nipped the glass from her hand. “I don’t want you drunk.”

“I can handle my drink,” she began, then rubbed her damp palms on her thighs as he wandered around lighting candles. “There’s no need for that. It’s not full dark yet.”

“It will be. I’ve seen you in candlelight before,” he said easily as he touched the flame of the match to the candles he’d set on the narrow mantel over the fire he’d already set to glowing. “But I didn’t take time to appreciate it. I will tonight.”

“I don’t see why you have to make the situation romantic instead of what it is.”