Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(122)

His arms got even tighter and his face dipped close to hers again.

“No,” he said again. “I employ thirty-five staff and they’re all curious about you. Too curious. I make this statement, they’ll have something to talk about for a couple of days and they’ll get back to work.”

“Oh,” Abby said, somehow both weirded out and disappointed by his answer.

He gave her a little squeeze and went on and even though she knew it was stupid, stupid, stupid what he said next made that budding hope she experienced in her heart the night before start to take root and bloom.

“Twenty-five years ago, if you told me I’d be standing in an office like this and it would be mine, I wouldn’t have believed you.” She held her breath at his sharing of this secret and his face got closer, his voice got deeper, rougher and far, far sexier when he continued. “And if you told me I’d be holding a woman like you in my arms, I’d have told you you were mad. So, darling, I’m going to show you off any chance I get. If you don’t like that, tough. You’re going to have to get over it.”

Yes, even though it was stupid, that hope was definitely beginning to bloom.

“Cash –” she whispered, then didn’t know what to say.

So she decided to show him how his words made her feel. She got up on tiptoe, pressing his head down with her fingers in his hair and she kissed him, hard, wet and open-mouthed.

His hand slid up her back, his fingers sifted into her hair at her nape and his head slanted, deepening an already deep kiss. This made Abby’s knees give out and his arm crushed her to him as she felt her body electrify from his kiss.

Some time later from far away (but she wished it was farther, much farther) she heard a tap at the door then, when Cash didn’t stop kissing Abby, a polite cough.

Cash’s head came up and he looked over his shoulder, his voice a mild growl when he said, “Yes?”

“The others are here,” Emma told him, standing uncomfortably at the door.

“We’ll be right there,” Cash replied and Abby, peering around Cash’s body, saw Emma disappear instantly.

Cash’s arms went from around her but both his hands came up to curl on her neck.

“After this weekend, as soon as I can arrange it, we’re going on holiday,” he informed her, his brogue still a soft, effective rumble that slid across her skin.

“We are?” Abby asked, sounding dazed because she was, it was a great kiss.

“We are,” he returned. “No phones, no receptionists, no nosy neighbours, no aggravating cousins, no ghosts, just us.”

“Okay,” Abby agreed and she felt Cash’s fingers flex at her neck before he smiled.

He let her go but caught her hand and gently pulled her to the door, asking blandly, “How annoyed is this meeting going to make me?”

Abby thought about Mrs. Truman.

Then she thought there was a very good possibility (in fact, it was a certainty) that Angus would be attired in full Scottish regalia.

“Um, on a scale of one to ten?” Abby enquired and Cash stopped at the door and looked down at her. She bit the side of her lip then mumbled, “Fifteen.”

At that, he threw his head back and laughed. She felt his rich laughter go straight from her stomach, this time up, to rest close to her heart before he tugged at her hand, leading her out the door and down the hall.

And she didn’t know Cash’s laughter in his office was not unheard of, but it was also not commonplace. So that, as well as their passionate embrace, as well as what was to come, was going to be the talk of the office for the rest of the month.

They walked, hand-in-hand, down the hall and Cash stopped them when they hit reception.

Abby took one look at her motley crew and mentally groaned.

Jenny, luckily, looked like Jenny, wearing the black trousers that did great things for her behind, high-heeled black boots and a black turtleneck.

Honor was also dressed like a normal person.

Fenella, however, was wearing a pink monstrosity that was fifty years too old for her and looked like it was created to be worn to attend a tea party at a retirement home.

Mrs. Truman was wearing English Old Lady, from the tip of her felt hat with a sharp feather sticking out of it, through her boxy tweed suit, to the toes of her rubber-soled shoes.

Angus was, as Abby feared, in full kilt.

But it was Cassandra that had gone OTT looking like the rock ‘n’ roll gypsy from hell. She had a scarf wrapped tightly around her head, its fringed ends mingling with her long dark hair. She had three, thin rock ‘n’ roll scarves around her neck and yet another fringed scarf wrapped around her h*ps over her jeans. As an unnecessary finishing touch, she was wearing enough jewellery in her ears, around her neck, at her wrists and on her fingers to set off the metal detectors in the Pentagon thousands of miles away.

“Fucking hell,” Cash muttered under his breath and Abby looked up to see he was not amused.

“I need tea,” Mrs. Truman announced loudly.

Abby suppressed a hysterical giggle but just barely.

Cash walked forward, taking Abby with him, and his eyes went to Emma. “Is lunch set up?”

“Yes, Cash. Everything’s ready in the conference room,” Emma answered, her surprised eyes on the assemblage.

Cash led the way to the door of the conference room. As Abby walked beside him she noticed there were an awful lot of people standing around pretending to be in conversations, but surreptitiously watching what was happening in the reception area.