Finding Olivia

Chapter 20

"I told you they were nice," Trace grinned, showing me around the palatial mansion.

"They're great," I agreed.

Trace pushed open a set of double doors and dragged me inside.

I stopped in my tracks, looking around the empty room, with tables and chairs for events stacked against the wall and a stage in the corner. Crystal chandeliers dotted the ceiling and gold sconces were affixed to the walls. The walls shimmered with ivory and gold wallpaper, accented by the shiny marble floors.

"A ballroom? You have a freakin' ballroom in your house," I gasped.

"Not my house," he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. "According to what your grandpa said, it will be yours."

"Yeah," he shrugged, leading me out to the middle of the floor. "But I never plan on living here. I mean, I grew up here, and I turned out fine," he grinned like a little boy, "but...it's kinda...cold. I want a home. I don't want to raise my kids in a palace. I want them to have a normal life, with a dog, and white picket fence."

I smiled. "You want kids?"

"Well, yeah," he scratched his head. "Not now, but eventually. Until then," he leaned down to whisper huskily in my ear, "I'll have lots of fun practicing."

I shivered and he chuckled.

Changing the topic completely, he held out a hand for me, and asked, "May I have this dance?"

"But there's no music," I laughed, "and you suck at dancing."

"You wound me," he winced but with a smile. "Maybe, I just want an excuse to hold you for a little while."

I shook my head but placed my hand in his outstretched palm. He took advantage and pulled me flush against his body. With his free hand, he pressed my waist against his, and I gasped aloud when I felt the prominent bulge.

I blushed and gazed up at him. With a very bad, fake British accent, I gasped, "Mr. Wentworth, I'm scandalized."

He laughed. "It's your fault," he winked, "you always look so damn hot. Now," he smiled and his green eyes shimmered, "stop talking and just enjoy the music."

"But there is no-"

He began to hum and we swayed back and forth.

With a light laugh, I laid my head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

"Now there's music," I murmured.

I didn't know how much time had passed but it wasn't long until the doors of the ballroom opened.

I reluctantly pulled away from Trace, and faced Warren, who was leaning against one of the open doors, with his hand on a cane.

"What is it, Gramps?" Trace sounded concerned.

"I wanted to let you two lovebirds know that you're snowed in," he muttered. "I called the snow removal company I use and they can't get here till morning. That's what we get for living in the boonies," he thrust a finger in the air. "Regardless, it's snowing something fierce out there, and not fit for driving. You'll both stay here tonight."

"No," I gasped, "I can't."

"Of course you can, darlin'," Warren covered a cough.

I looked beside me, at Trace, nervously chewing my lip.