The Path to James by Jane Radford Page B

against my lips. Her soft mouth, I could never get enough of it.
    “But of course, Miss Henton.”
    I have to tear myself from her. I have only just met this woman, but I feel so attached, so fiercely possessive, it must be nothing short of proof that she is indeed a sorceress.
     
    ***
    James doesn't turn on a television or fill the silence with music. All of his attention is steeped in me. We eat in his family room. His flatscreen TV is black, the built-in speakers throughout the room are silent. The phone on his coffee table blinks with unanswered messages.
    I sit next to him on his comfy sofa, my side curled into his. His feet play with mine while our mouths are busy chewing. His cooking is amazing, the crust is crisp and the sauce has a robust kick to it. I could kiss this man if my mouth wasn't so full with his food.
    “What made you want to be a travel writer?” James breaks the comfortable silence between us. The bottom of my foot strokes the top of his.
    “It was nothing profound, no divine signal that I should follow that course in particular.” I put my pizza down, no longer hungry for food. “I've always loved writing,” I lean deeper into James, “and I've always wanted to travel. More than anything, I've wanted to travel.”
    “And you start by walking across the country?” James is done with his food as well. No matter how delicious his cooking, we're both too tempting for each other. “You don't travel somewhere more exotic?”
    “I have to start somewhere,” I shrug, “but you'll see, soon I'll conquer the world.”
    He wraps his arms around me, pressing his face into my hair. He's warm and he is comfortable. “That's ambitious.” His breath is hot against the back of my head. “What would you do if money wasn't an option?”
    His question makes me uncomfortable. I am well aware that money is no hindrance in his life, but I answer him regardless. “I would do exactly what I'm doing,” I smile, knowing this wasn't the answer he had expected. “I would write and I would travel.”
    I bring the back of his hand up to my lips. “I would go to school for the sake of knowledge, I would create adventure for the sake of my writing, and I would travel for the sense of freedom.”
    James moves my hair aside to kiss along my neck. His lips are warm against my flesh and his touch leaves me always wanting more. Deeper, hotter, forever. I will always want him.
    “How is it that I can envision your dreams more easily than mine?” he places another kiss along my neck. His words wrap around me, warm and gentle. “How is it that your dreams make me wish to abandon my own?” His words devour me.
    “Tell me of your dreams,” I breathe with my neck turned to his embrace.
    “No,” his sigh cuts into me, “if I only have tonight, I wish to learn as much as I can about you.” His hand slides down me. “I am determined to memorize every curve and facet of you. Everything that is Alexandria Henton.”
    “You will tell me nothing of yourself?” I move from his embrace. It's so hard to force myself from his arms, but I manage, and he lets me go.
    When my eyes find his, I'm shocked to find something haunted flitting just below the surface. What could he be hiding?
    I look at his toned body and muscled arms, his full lips and chiseled jaw and I think, model ? What other profession would keep him in such excellent shape? But I think of his wonderful mind, his book collection displayed on the second floor, and the publishing connections he had offered me. Author ?
    “Why so secretive, Mr. James?” my eyes narrow as I realize he had never given me his surname. What could he be hiding? This mystery man, this stranger, what is he keeping from me, and do I have any right to pry?
    His brow knits, almost worried, and I'm afraid that I might have pushed into a part of his life he would rather not have a stranger delve into. “I'll drop it,” I concede. I only have tonight, I don't want to spoil what precious