There was a strange wistfulness in her tone that bothered him. “We’ll use them together.”

“Of course.” Her words lacked conviction.

“Chloe, is something wrong?”

“How could anything be wrong when I’m sitting in front of a vase of gorgeous flowers with two bottles of Dom Pérignon stashed in my cupboard? Not in the refrigerator. And there’s still plenty of chocolate left.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was low and uncertain. “There is one thing missing.”

He tensed. What omission was so glaring that she would mention it? “Tell me.”

“It would be better if you were here too.”

A sudden restlessness brought him out of the chair to pace over the tiles. “I was thinking the same thing. In fact, I was picturing you swimming with me here in my lap pool. Naked.” Her little intake of breath made his groin tighten.

“Should you be swimming so soon after the flu?” she asked, her voice quivering the tiniest bit.

“I exerted myself far more last night.”

“Good point. But maybe that means you should rest today.”

“There’s no rest for the wicked, and I’ve been thinking nothing but wicked thoughts about you since last night. Would you like to hear some of them?”

She choked, whether on a laugh or a gasp, he couldn’t tell. “No phone sex. Grandmillie will be home from church any minute now.”

“How would she know what I’m saying?”

“I’m pretty sure it would show on my face.”

“You do have an expression of wanton bliss when I touch you in certain places.” Teasing Chloe was better than phone sex. He was sure she was blushing now.

“Wanton bliss?” she huffed. “You have an expression of drooling lust when I touch you in certain places.”

He chuckled. “I don’t drool.”

“You do. And you snore too.”

“We haven’t actually slept together, so how would you know?”

“I slept beside you the whole night when you were sick.”

“Not a fair test. Sleep with me again, and I’ll prove I only snore when under the influence of germs.”

She sighed. “That would be nice. Oh, the Lombardis’ car just pulled up in front of the house. I’ve got to go. Thank you again, Nathan. You’re so . . . everything is just . . . so amazing. ’Bye.”

She hung up before he could answer her. He suspected it was because she didn’t want him to hear the tears in her voice, but he had.

He dropped his phone on the table and grabbed his towel, rubbing it hard over his nearly dry hair and chest.

What the hell had he done to make her cry?

CHAPTER 17

“Still in your pajamas, I see,” Grandmillie said as Chloe opened the front door. She’d had just enough time to tighten the belt of her robe and take a couple of deep breaths to shake off the effect of Nathan’s attempt to seduce her by telephone. She wondered if he really would have told her what he’d been imagining doing to her.

“You’re looking very snazzy this morning,” Chloe said. Her grandmother wore a turquoise linen suit with a frivolous little hat of net and straw to match. Her slender cane was made of carved oak with a silver handle. She’d told Chloe one should dress well to dine with the Lord in his own house.

As she walked slowly into the living room, Grandmillie spotted the lupines on the table and nodded her approval. “That young man of yours knows how to treat a lady.”

Grandmillie’s description of Nathan made him sound like Chloe’s teenage prom date. She thought of him striding down the corridor of Trainor Electronics in his custom-tailored suit with a phalanx of executive vice presidents marching behind him. Nope, not your average young man. And not hers either.

“He sent champagne too,” Chloe said as her grandmother settled into her lounge chair.

Grandmillie’s eyes lit up, her professional interest as a former bar owner piqued. “What kind?”

“Dom Pérignon.”

“A classic. You can’t go wrong with that.” She removed her hat and set it on the table. “Now tell me all about your dinner out.”

“There’s something I need to ask you about first.” Chloe picked up the Crestmont Village folder. “Why did you send for information about this place?”

Grandmillie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that. It just came in the mail. AARP must have sold them a mailing list of local seniors.”

Chloe kept her voice calm. “There’s a letter inside that’s addressed to you and thanks you for your inquiry.”

Her grandmother looked away. “It’s a nice place. I put my name on the waiting list.”

Chloe’s heart seemed to twist in her chest. “But we’ve talked about this. You’re doing fine here. And you don’t belong in that place.”

Grandmillie sighed and brought her gaze back to Chloe. “Not yet, sweetie, but I’m afraid the time is coming. I love you too much to be a burden and a worry to you.”

“You’re my anchor. I need you here in my home.” Chloe wiped away tears with the back of her hand.

“You need to live your life, and I like the folks at Crestmont Village.”

Chloe thought about her tour of the elder-care facility a couple of years ago. It was clean and well maintained. The staff was kind and caring. But so many of the residents were in the grip of dementia or stared blankly at a television set. Grandmillie was as sharp as a tack and loved visiting with their neighbors of all ages. She was especially good with the teenagers, who often spilled their troubles to her when they would talk to no one else.