Caden led me into the living room and I admired the warm furnishings and clean lines. He gestured to the sofa and I obligingly sat down. "Do you want a glass of wine?" I looked up at Caden. He seemed almost unsettled. The desire I had seen in his eyes was masked, and he just had a polite look of inquiry on his face. It was the fact that he was trying so hard to look nonchalant that tipped me off. "Sure, that sounds good." I tried to match his casual tone, but his forced composure was making me jittery. I looked around the room as Caden went into the kitchen. It was impeccably designed, but I noticed there were no pictures or personal affects. It was as coldly impersonal as the apartment I had left behind in Chicago. I had seen a flight of stairs when we had entered the foyer and I was dying to see the third floor, but I doubted Caden would humor the request of a house tour. I had to rein myself in at the thought. Did I really want to know more about this enigmatic man? Unfortunately, the answer was a resounding yes.
