Joker in the Pack (Romantic Suspense, Completed, Watty Winner)

Chapter 16

"Are we going to the Italian place again?" I asked Tate as I settled into the passenger seat of his Mercedes.

"I thought we'd head to my house, actually."

"Your house?" My pulse ratcheted up a notch.

The two of us, alone?

"My housekeeper's prepared us something for supper. Although if you prefer, I can take you to a restaurant. I suspect we'd get interrupted a lot with questions about the burglary, though."

He did make a good point, and I had to admit I was curious to see where he lived.

"No, your place is fine."

It was almost dark as we drove through an imposing pair of iron gates that hid a winding driveway from view. In the fading light, swathes of grass stretched out on either side, dotted with trees and the occasional statue. This wasn't so much a garden as a park.

Ahead, the outline of the manor house came into view, silhouetted against a full moon. The whole setup made me think of werewolves for some reason, and I gave an involuntary shiver.

"Cold?" Tate asked, and without waiting for my answer, he reached over and turned up the heater.

"Just a little." Better to feign a chill than admit to my wild imagination.

Tate drove past the main house and pulled up in front of a sweet little cottage around the back. Thanks to some artfully placed spotlights, I could see it was everything I'd hoped Lilac Cottage would be. Wisteria wound its way over the front door, wooden beams added to the period look, and a cherub balanced over a fountain in the middle of the lawn.

Tate hopped out and opened my door, then took my elbow to lead me inside.

"It's a touch on the basic side, but it suits my needs until I inherit the manor."

"Wow," I breathed as I stepped over the threshold.

He thought this was basic? It made Aunt Ellie's home look like a shack.

The interior was traditional with a modern twist, obviously decorated without care for the budget. In the hallway, a velvet sofa and cast-iron boot stand glowed under recessed lighting, and in the kitchen, heat radiated out from a proper Aga. Sad though it sounded, I dreamed of owning a range like that. They were the heart of a home. I could just imagine my children rushing in after school and pulling off their wellington boots before they stopped to warm their hands in front of it.

Stop! What was I thinking? What happened to not rushing into anything after Edward?

Tate pulled out one of six padded leather chairs surrounding the long oak table and gestured for me to sit.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Just a glass of water for the moment, thank you."

As I took in every wonderful detail, from the old-fashioned copper saucepans hanging from their rack to the matching silver kettle and toaster, Tate set about getting dinner ready.

"I hope you like lasagne," he said.

My mouth watered from the delicious smell that escaped as soon as he opened the oven door.

"I love it. Can I do anything to help?"

"No, I'm doing all the work tonight. You need to relax after the last few days."

So, relax I did. Tate opened a good bottle of red, and seeing as he had to drive me back, I drank most of it.

"I feel guilty drinking three glasses full," I told him as we curled up on the sofa later. "Especially when you haven't touched a drop."