Suddenly You(2)

Amanda could easily understand why women would pay for his company. The thought of hiring this masculine, opulent-eyed creature to do one’s bidding was extraordinary. And tempting. Amanda was ashamed by her secret response to him, the hot and cold chills that chased through her body, the burning color that rose to the crests of her cheeks. She had resigned herself to being a dignified spinster…she had even convinced herself that there was great freedom in her unmarried circumstance. However, her troublesome body didn’t seem to understand that a woman should no longer be bothered by desire at her age. At a time when twenty-one was considered to be old, thirty was most definitely on the shelf. She was past her prime, no longer desirable. An “ape-leader” was what people called such a woman. If only she could make herself accept her fate.

Amanda forced herself to stare directly into his extraordinary blue eyes. “I intend to be frank, Mr…. no, never mind, don’t tell me your name, we shan’t be acquainted long enough for me to require it. You see, I’ve had a chance to reflect on a rather hastily made decision, and the fact is…well, I’ve changed my mind. Please do not receive this as a personal affront. It has nothing to do with you or your appearance, and I will certainly make that clear to your employer, Mrs. Bradshaw. You are a fine-looking man, in fact, and very punctual, and I have no doubt that you are very good at…well, at what you do. The simple truth is, I have made a mistake. We all make mistakes, and I am certainly no exception. Every great once in a while, I do make a small error in judgment—”

“Wait.” He lifted his large hands in a defensive gesture, his intent gaze fastened on her flushed face. “Stop talking.”

No one in her adult life had ever dared to tell her to stop talking. Surprised into silence, Amanda struggled to stem the cascade of words that threatened to flow from her lips. The stranger folded his arms across his muscular chest and leaned his back against the door to stare at her. The glow from the lamp in the tiny entrance hall of her fashionable London house cast a fringe of shadows from his long lashes onto the stark, elegant planes of his cheekbones.

Amanda couldn’t help thinking that Mrs. Bradshaw had excellent taste. The man she had sent was surprisingly well groomed and prosperous-looking, dressed in fashionable but solidly traditional attire, a black coat and charcoal-gray trousers, and black shoes polished to an impeccable gleam. His starched white shirt was snowy against his swarthy skin, and his gray silk cravat was arranged in a simple, perfect knot. Before this moment, had Amanda been pressed to describe her ideal man, she would have described him as blond and light-skinned and fine-boned. Now she was forced to revise her opinion entirely. No fair-haired Apollo could begin to compare with this large, robustly handsome man.

“You are Miss Amanda Briars,” he said, as if requiring confirmation. “The novelist.”

“Yes, I write novels,” she replied with forced patience. “And you are the gentleman whom Mrs. Bradshaw sent at my request, are you not?”

“I seem to be,” he said slowly.

“Well, you have my apologies, Mr…. no, no, don’t tell me. As I explained, I have made a mistake, and therefore, you must go. Naturally I will pay for your services even though they are no longer required, as the fault is entirely mine. Just tell me what you usually charge, and we’ll settle the matter immediately.”

As he stared at her, a change came over his face, his bemusement giving way to fascination, the blue eyes sparkling with a devilish amusement that made her nerves twitch uncomfortably.

“Tell me what services were requested,” he suggested gently, pushing away from the door. He moved closer until his body loomed over hers. “I’m afraid I never discussed the details with Mrs. Bradshaw.”

“Oh, merely the basic ones.” Amanda’s poise eroded more rapidly with each second that passed. Her face felt terribly hot, and her heartbeat reverberated in every part of her body. “The usual thing.” Blindly she turned toward the satinwood demilune table against the wall, where she had placed a wad of carefully folded pound notes.

“I always pay my debts, and I have put you and Mrs. Bradshaw to trouble for nothing, so I am more than willing to compensate—” She stopped with a strangled sound as she felt his hand close around her upper arm. It was unthinkable for a stranger to place his hand on any part of a lady’s body. Of course, it was even more unthinkable that a lady should resort to hiring a male prostitute, and yet that was precisely what she had done. Miserable, she decided to hang herself before ever doing something so foolish again.

Her body went stiff at his touch, and she didn’t dare move as she heard his voice right behind her head. “I don’t want money.” His deep voice was threaded with subtle amusement. “There is no charge for services you haven’t received.”

“Thank you.” Both her fists clutched into one white-knuckled ball. “Very kind of you. I will at least pay for a hack. There is no need for you to return home on foot.”

“Oh, I’m not leaving yet.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped. She spun to face him with a horrified glance. What did he mean, he wasn’t leaving? Well, he would be made to depart, whether he wished to or not! Rapidly she considered her options. Unfortunately, there were few at her disposal. She had given her servants—a footman, a cook, and a maid—the night off. No help from that quarter. And she certainly couldn’t resort to shouting for assistance from a constable. The attendant publicity might be damaging to her career, and her writing was the sole means of support for the household. Spying an oak-handled umbrella in the porcelain stand by the door, she inched toward it as discreetly as possible.