Free The Taming of a Wild Child by Kimberly Lang

and personality out of these older homes, and it pleased her to see that wasn’t the case here.
    “Your house is gorgeous. Did you do the renovations?”
    He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “Not personally.”
    “But you approved the design?”
    “Yep. Feel free to look around while I get us something to eat.”
    Honestly, watching Donovan prepare food wearing nothing but a pair of jeans had more appeal.
Mercy
, she could happily stare at him all night long, but staring
was
a little rude. She picked up her glass and wandered into the living room.
    The fireplace and mantel looked to be original to the house, but it was the attention to detail that impressed her. Either Donovan or his designer had an excellent eye and a love for the historic bones of the house.
    There was the requisite enormous television stationed across from a leather recliner that looked buttery soft, and a wall full of CDs and DVDs. A quick glance at the alphabetized titles told her that Donovan was both very organized and extremely eclectic in his tastes. There was a bit of everything from jazz to punk and
Casablanca
to
Shaun of the Dead
.
    French doors led from that room to a courtyard behindthe house. She opened the door and stepped outside onto the patio, where the bricks still radiated warmth captured from the summer sun. Lights flipped on at her movement and she caught her breath.
    High walls and lush plants provided privacy and created a feeling of seclusion in the middle of one of the busiest neighborhoods on earth. Iron benches provided seating to her right, and to her left was what looked like a large round pond. On closer inspection it proved to be a whirlpool. Dipping in a toe, she noticed it was cool water, not hot, just perfect for warm, muggy summer nights. Lorelei sat, letting her feet dangle into the pool as she listened to the night sounds.
    The house, the garden—both were beautiful. But not at all the kind of place she’d thought Donovan would live. He seemed more like a high-rise condo or urban loft type of person: all brushed nickel and glass and—
    She stopped the thought.
Why
had she assumed that? And when had she come to that conclusion, for that matter? She barely knew him—at least not in a way that would have given her insights into his natural habitat.
    It was shocking and a little disconcerting how little she actually knew about him—beyond his award-worthy skills in that decadent bed upstairs. What did
that
say about her?
    “There you are. Aren’t you hot out here?”
    Donovan was coming out of the house, juggling a tray with the bottle of wine tucked under his arm and the other wineglass held upside down by the stem.
    “I like being outside on summer nights—even if it is muggy. There’s just something real and grounding about a warm night …” She trailed off at his amusement. “I just like it. But if you don’t, we can go back inside.”
    “No. It’s why I have a garden.” He put down the trayand sat cross-legged next to her on the apron of the pool. “As promised—food.”
    Lorelei eyeballed the tray and stifled a laugh. Baby carrots and dip, a bag of potato chips, and a heaping plate of pizza rolls. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to produce, but it hadn’t been this. “You eat like a college student.”
    “No, I
cook
like a college student. That’s why I normally eat out.”
    “I haven’t had pizza rolls in years. They’re so bad for you.”
    “So many of the best things in life are.”
    She wondered if she should include Donovan in that list. Or if he was including her in his.
    Shaking the thought away, she reached for one. They were hot, fresh from the microwave, with cheese and sauce oozing out of the seams. She popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes as she chewed. Over-processed, fat-laden, high-sodium bliss exploded over her tongue. She groaned quietly as she savored it. When she opened her eyes, Donovan was staring at her, his glass halfway to his