Page 41 of Dream Date With the Millionaire
“I’ll lay out the blanket in front of the fireplace in the living room,” he said.
Oh, boy, that sounded romantic. Maybe they should eat here at the kitchen island and sit on stools instead.
Before she could say anything, Bryce disappeared through the butler’s pantry, leaving Dani alone in the to-die-for kitchen.
She hadn’t wanted a man in her life, but she seemed to have found one. A good one. If she weren’t careful, she could find herself in a serious relationship. And that wasn’t sounding like such a bad thing at the moment.
With a resigned sigh, she padded barefoot across the wide-planked hardwood floor.
Music played, streaming from speakers she hadn’t known were there. He must have turned on a sound system. As she placed a marinated steak and vegetable kebob on each plate, a soft melody filled the kitchen.
“Do you like to dance?” Bryce asked.
Dani realized she was swaying to the music. She stopped, embarrassed. “I don’t get much opportunity to dance.”
Standing behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “But you like dancing.”
It wasn’t a question. Still Dani nodded. That was the only response she could manage.
Standing with him like this felt so comfortable and right. She fought the urge to lean back against him. They seemed like a…couple. She straightened and added a scoop of rice pilaf to the plates instead. “What about you?”
“I’m not really into dancing,” he admitted. “My mother forced dancing lessons on me when I was a kid.”
“Let me guess.” Dani placed a salad with fresh strawberries and poppy seed dressing on the plates. “You didn’t like the lessons.”
“I hated them.” Bryce picked up his wineglass. “I’ll never forget having to dance in front of all the parents. All those eyes watching me, seeing every mistake. It was a living nightmare. One I don’t want to repeat.”
She picked up the plates and silverware, wrapped in napkins. “Everything’s ready.”
He tucked the wine bottle in the nook of his arm and grabbed their glasses. She followed him into the living room.
A blanket lay on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Flickering candles on the built-in shelves and mantel added to the romantic atmosphere.
A mix of emotion welled inside her. His thoughtfulness at making things so special for their “picnic” and her worry that she might find herself caught up in the moment. She sat on the blanket. “This is lovely, Bryce. Thanks for going to so much trouble.”
“You’re welcome. But you deserve the thanks for going to all the trouble with a home-cooked meal.” He took a plate from Dani, sat across from her and swallowed a forkful of rice pilaf. “This is fantastic. Where did you learn to cook?”
“My mother taught me.” Dani removed the stick from her kebob. “She cooks at the farm and had us help her sometimes. During college, I worked at a café near campus.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
She drank her wine. “Find a job.”
“You will. Your résumé is out there.” He reached across the blanket and touched her hand. “Remember, finding a good job doesn’t happen overnight. Give it time.”
Staring into his eyes made her think everything—job, life, even love—would work out. Somehow. “Okay.”
As they finished eating dinner and he explained where he’d sent her résumé, she noticed the architectural details of the living room. The moldings, the wood-paned windows, French doors. She could imagine herself in the drawing room at Netherfield. Only Bryce was much sharper than Mr. Bingley and more amenable and approachable than Mr. Darcy. “This is a beautiful house.”
“Thanks.” Bryce placed his fork on his plate. “I’ve managed to get two rooms remodeled, but there’s more to do.”
“Are you going to be doing heavy construction or just surface, cosmetic stuff?” she asked.
“No wall moving,” he said. “Painting, window coverings and new furniture.”
She smiled. “The fun stuff.”
“You might think so.”
“Come on. You get to decorate your own house. That’s—” she searched for the right words “—a dream come true for many people. I’d love to have a house to do that with. I remember…”
“What?” Bryce asked.
“Nothing.” She stared into her wineglass, feeling self-conscious. “It’s silly.”
“No holding back,” Bryce urged. “Please tell me what you were going to say.”
“When I was younger, I used to draw floor plans for houses. There would be tons of scrap paper with my scribbles on them everywhere. One Christmas, I got a book, one of those thick magazines really, of house plans. It was my favorite present. I still have it somewhere.”
