Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(61)

Legs suddenly weak with wanting, Ada swayed on her feet.

Still holding her gaze, he brushed his hands over the tabletop. “I desire you right here, right now.” He grunted. “Unfortunately, that would strain the bounds of propriety.”

Edison pushed back from the table. “In short, Mrs. Templeton, feel free to imagine that I desire you at all times, in every possible position."

Without another word, he stalked out of the room.

Lightheaded with the possibilities he so lovingly detailed, Ada pulled out the nearest chair and sank down before her trembling knees gave out.

Damned if she hadn’t let the tiger out of the cage.



*

He’d hoped going back to the league offices to work would clear his head.

Quite the opposite.

Working shoulder to shoulder with Ada—even in his large workshop—was proving a formidable distraction.

Edison stood in front of his workbench, hand poised to pull down a jar of powder from the assortment on the shelf above, but he couldn’t recall what he’d been after.

It was that damned violet scent. Light and feminine, innocent yet somehow formidably seductive, that perfume of hers was scrambling his thoughts.

He was going to miss it.

Truth be told, there were a great many things about Ada Templeton he was going to miss.

Edison slanted a quick glance in her direction. She remained at the far end of the long workbench, engrossed in the calculations for his smoke bombs. In that magical way women had of turning their attention to the task at hand, she seemed to have no difficulty setting aside their heated encounter at the breakfast table to focus on work.

The empty brass shell of a disodorizer sat open on the workbench in front of her. She stared down at it, tiny frown lines furrowing the bridge of her nose.

Then she bit her lip and considered the array of chemical powders arranged on the shelves above. “I’ve been thinking, if it’s more smoke you’re after, you might try adding sugar. It should burn at a great rate.”

The woman was a wonder. He set his hands on his hips and stared at her in wonder. “I never considered that.”

She gave him a little squib of a smile and proceeded to fill the shell with potassium nitrate.

Edison watched her delicate hands as she worked with that quick, efficient style he’d come to know. Having Ada in his workshop was torture of the most excruciating kind.

And that plain dress suited her in the best kind of way. Spare and simple, it accentuated her lithe form in a way ruffles and bows and the like would not.

She seemed to find her conservative dress dull and uninspiring.

He found her look incendiary.

All those tiny buttons to be unfastened, to say nothing of the way the unadorned style allowed her curves to take center stage.

Edison groaned silently. No matter what she wore, Ada ignited his senses.

Not that there was a damn thing he could do about it. Not with his family and Nelly, and their newest recruit knocking about in the front offices.

Sensing his scrutiny, Ada gave him a questioning look.

He snapped his own attention back to the task at hand. Sodium bicarbonate. That’s what he’d been about to grab before his thoughts tore off on their own.

Though the powder required precise measurement, Edison couldn’t help but strain to hear the conversation going on in the main office. He had hours yet before he needed to leave for the Admiral’s offices, and little left to prepare.

They could leave. The entire lot of them.

Perhaps they’d decide to dine out? Or head home?

Anything that would give him time to coax Ada into his bed.

There wouldn’t be many more chances.

Edison palmed the bottom half of a smoke bomb and raised it to eye level so he could add the precise amount of saltpeter. Too little and the thing wouldn’t smoke at all. Too much and it would catch fire… or explode. Lower lip caught between his teeth, he tapped the powder into the tiny compartment.

Was that the kettle whistling? Damnation, were they brewing tea? Would they never leave?

His hand trembled, sending the last few grains of chemical onto the floor. “Satan’s biscuits.”

With a disgusted sigh he poured the powder that had made it into the device back into the open jar and dropped the shell down on the workbench. Now he’d have to re-measure.

As he scooped the shell back up, Ada covered his hand with hers. “Let me.”

Just that casual touch sent an electrical current straight to his very core. Just by breathing, the woman could make him hard.

She slid the shell to her side of the bench and reached over him to grab the jar. “Three grams?”

“Uh…” Edison heard the question, but the urge to grab her and kiss her silly interfered with his ability to form words.

Her sly smile betrayed the fact that she sensed his conundrum.

Open mouthed, Edison watched her fill the shell, her movements swift and precise.

It was enough to make his head spin.

When had he become such a ninnified school girl?

Ada snapped the smoke bomb closed and dusted off her hands. “That should do it.” She slid the device back to him. “How many do you plan to take?”

Edison stared down at the three bombs lined up on the bench. “These’ll do.”

He didn’t expect to need any devices for a meeting at the Admiralty, but one never knew. It cost nothing to arrive prepared.