Donna Hill - My Love At Last

“How do you know all this?”

Melanie sipped her champagne. “Do you want to meet him or not?”

Olivia’s lips parted. “All right.”

They crossed the expanse of the living room, with Melanie stopping every few feet to say a word or make introductions among her guests. She finally stepped outside, scanned the gathering on the lawn. The well-dressed guests lounged at the tables dotting the manicured grass or chatted in tight conversation groups.

“Over there,” Melanie said. She walked in the direction of Connor, who was leaning against a willow tree listening to Lydia.

Olivia followed closely, casually looking about and casting a smile here and there to keep her mind off the next few steps, which would land her right in front of Connor Lawson.

“Connor.” Melanie slid up to him and possessively draped her arm around his waist. “I see Lydia is monopolizing all of your time.” She flashed a false smile at Lydia while she smoothly angled herself between the two of them. “How are you enjoying yourself, Lydia?”

“Wonderful as always.”

“I do want to talk with you about a few things.”

Lydia’s finely arched brows rose in question. “Oh.”

“Excuse my manners. Connor Lawson, this is Dr. Olivia Gray. She’s here from New York on a research project. And you’re working on the restoration of the homestead, right?”

“I am.” He turned the full wattage of his maleness on Olivia.

Her breath hitched. The air around them crackled.

“What are you researching?” he asked her. He pulled her in with his bottomlessness voice.

“The origins of the African-American families of Sag Harbor.” Her own sketchy beginnings might be buried here, but no one needed to know that.

Moonlight pinged the dark orbs of his eyes. “Perhaps we can compare notes.”

“I think that’s a great plan,” Melanie said. “Why don’t you two work out those details while Lydia and I talk about that thing .” She hooked her arm through Lydia’s and ushered her away before she could form the words of protest.

Connor rolled his gaze toward Olivia, and she turned the energy right back on him. The corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. “You have a New York vibe.”

“And what kind of vibe would that be?”

He took a swallow of his drink. “Sophisticated. Savvy. Sexy.”

The bud between her legs twitched in response. “Do you say that to all the girls from New York?”

“Only the special ones.”

Olivia raked her bottom lip with her teeth.

Connor studied the erotic move and wondered if she was intentionally trying to turn him on. It wouldn’t take much. He’d felt the rise for her the instant he spotted her across the room.

“Melanie said you’re doing restoration work. The Homestead?” she said, shifting the tone and direction of the conversation.

He slid his free hand into his pocket to keep from touching her. “One of the original string of cabins. Challenging work. There’s a lot of history buried out there. Every day is a treasure hunt.”

Olivia felt his energy and his passion from the pitch of his voice and the spark in his eyes. He loved what he did, and she knew that he was good at it. He would be good at anything he did.

“I’d love to see it...what you’re working on. I’m sure it would help me with my own work.”

“We’ll have to work that out, and then you can tell me all about your research.” His eyes snaked over her, teasing her flesh. Was her skin as silky as it looked encased in that body-hugging royal blue? His jaw clenched. And those legs...wrapped around his back.

She brought her glass to her lips. “What got you involved in restoration?”

“Long story.” For the first time his steady gaze wavered. He shifted his body weight. “What about you? What kind of doctor are you?”

“Anthropologist.”

His right brow flicked in admiration. “Beauty and brains.”

Her black lashes lowered over her lids. “How long is your story?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”

Her brown eyes settled on his face. “Are you asking me out, Mr. Lawson?”

“All my friends call me Connor. And yes, in answer to your question, I’m asking you to join me for drinks and dinner.”

Why did it sound like so much more, or was it only her libido talking?

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Olivia glanced over her bare right shoulder and smiled. “Desiree. Sorry. Melanie whisked me away.”

“I see you’ve met Connor.” She stepped up to him and kissed his cheek. “I hope you haven’t been using that naughty Lawson charm of yours on Olivia.”

Connor grinned, baring a flash of even white teeth. “I never thought of myself as naughty. We were having a very intense business discussion.” He slid his gaze toward Olivia. “Isn’t that right?”

“All business.”

Her lips pursed ever so slightly, and he had every intention of tasting them before the night was over.

Desiree looked from one to the other. “Hmm. Well, Lincoln and I are leaving soon,” she said to Olivia. “Ready?”

“Oh...okay.” Olivia made a move as if to leave.

“I’d be happy to drive you home if you aren’t ready now.”

Olivia flashed him a look. Did she need to be hemmed up with him in a car, with the irrational way her body was reacting to him? “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

His eyes narrowed. “Looking forward to it.”

“Then, I will see you two later,” Desiree said. She squeezed Olivia’s upper arm and wagged a warning finger at Connor. “Play nice.”

“Always.” He winked.

Desiree chuckled and went in search of her husband, Lincoln.

“You’re staying at The Port?” Connor asked.

“Yes. I am.”

“My cousin-in-law Layla runs the spa over there.”

Olivia brightened as the pieces clicked in place. “You’re related to Maurice and Layla?”

“Maurice is my first cousin.”

“You get discounts on the massages?”

“No. But I give pretty good massages.” Connor tipped his head to the side and looked at her from beneath a veil of thick lashes. “So I’ve been told.”

Her heart thumped.

“Walk?”

She gave a slight shrug. “Sure.”

He placed his hand at the small of her back, right above the rise of her very round derriere. He took a quick peek. Lovely .

She felt the heated imprint of his palm, wanted it lower. Warmth spread between her inner thighs.

Connor guided her away from the house and across the slope toward the beach. The rushing sound of the ocean rolling toward the shore and beating against the rocks grew stronger.

“How long have you been here?” Connor asked.

“Just about three weeks.”

“Surprised we haven’t met sooner.”

“I’ve been buried in notes and journals since I arrived. Desiree convinced me that I needed a break and got me invited here tonight.”

“I’ll have to thank Desiree.”

“For what?”

“For realizing that you needed to take a break. Otherwise think of all the time wasted before we would’ve met.”

Everything he said was an invitation. He kept opening the door, waiting for her to step through. She wouldn’t be that easy. Not now. Not just yet. “What about you? How long have you been here?”

“Almost a year. I got commissioned to work on the restoration last summer.”

“What are some of the other projects you’ve worked on?”

“Hmm, brownstones on Strivers Row, theaters, African burial grounds in Manhattan...” He shrugged. “Things like that. What about you?”

“I’ve visited the burial grounds and examined the remains. It was quite surreal to realize who those people were...our ancestors,” she said with quiet reverence. “How did you get started?”