Suddenly You(6)

One pin, two, three…as she drew them out, she held them in her hand until the ends dug into the soft flesh of her palm. As the last pin came out, the coil dropped heavily, her long locks falling to one shoulder.

The stranger’s blue eyes contained glints of fire. He began to reach for her hair, then checked the motion. “May I?” he asked gruffly.

No man had ever asked permission to touch her before. “Yes,” she said, though it took two attempts before the word came out clearly. She closed her eyes, felt him move closer, and her scalp tingled as he sifted lightly through her hair, separating the coiled curls. His broad-tipped fingers moved amid the thick strands, brushing her scalp, spreading the mantle of curls over her shoulders.

His hand drifted to hers, gently prying her fingers open, making her drop the wire pins. His thumb smoothed over the tiny red marks the pins had made on her palm, and he brought her hand to his face to kiss the little sore spots.

His voice curled hotly inside her palm. “Your hand smells like lemons.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him gravely. “I scrub my hands with lemon juice to remove the ink stains.”

The information seemed to amuse him, and lights of humor mixed with the heat in his gaze. He released her hand and played with a lock of her hair, his knuckles brushing her shoulder and making her breath catch. “Tell me why you requested a man from Madam Bradshaw, instead of seducing one of your acquaintances.”

“Three reasons,” she said, finding it difficult to speak while his hand was stroking through her hair. A flush of warmth came over her throat and cheeks. “First, I didn’t want to sleep with a man and then forever be faced with him in social situations. Second, I haven’t the skills to seduce anyone.”

“Those skills are easily learned, peaches.”

“What a ridiculous name,” she said with an unsteady laugh. “Don’t call me that.”

“And third…” he prompted, recalling her to her explanation.

“Third…I am not attracted to any of the gentlemen of my acquaintance. I tried to imagine what it might be like, but none of them appealed to me in that way.”

“What kind of man appeals to you?”

Amanda jumped a little as she felt his warm hand slide around the back of her neck. “Well…not a handsome one.”

“Why?”

“Because handsomeness is always accompanied by vanity.”

Jack grinned suddenly. “And I suppose ugliness is accompanied by a wealth of virtues?”

“I didn’t say that,” she protested. “It’s just that I would prefer a man’s looks to be ordinary.”

“And his character?”

“Pleasant, not boastful, intelligent but not conceited, and good-humored. But not foolish.”

“I think, peaches, that your ideal man is a paragon of mediocrity. And I think you’re lying about what you really want.”

Her eyes flew open, and she frowned in annoyance. “I’ll have you know that I am honest to a fault!”

“Then tell me you don’t want to meet a man like one of the characters in your novels. Like the hero of the last one.”

Amanda snorted derisively. “An unprincipled brute who brings himself and everyone around him to ruin? A man who behaves like a barbarian and conquers a woman with no respect for her wishes? He was not a hero, sir, and I used him to illustrate that no good can come of such behavior.” She warmed to the subject, recalling indignantly, “And readers dared to complain that there was no happy ending, when it was abundantly clear that he did not deserve one!”

“Part of you liked him,” Jack said, giving her an intent stare. “I could see it in your writing.”

She smiled uncomfortably. “Well, in the realm of fantasy, I suppose I did. But certainly not in reality.”

The hand behind her neck closed in a gentle but secure grip. “Then here is your birthday present, Amanda. A night of fantasy.” He loomed over her, his head and broad shoulders obliterating the firelight as he bent to kiss her.

Chapter 2

“Wait,” Amanda said in a flash of panic, turning her head as Jack’s mouth approached hers. His lips pressed on her cheek, a brush of intimate heat that astonished her. “Wait,” she said again, her voice wobbling. Her face was turned full toward the fire, its yellow glow dazzling her eyes as she sought to avoid the stranger’s exploring kisses. His mouth moved gently over her cheek and toward her ear, tickling the tiny wisps of hair just above it.

“Have you ever been kissed, Amanda?”

“Of course I have,” she said with wary pride, but there seemed no way to explain that they hadn’t been anything remotely like this. A stolen kiss in a garden or a perfunctory embrace beneath the holiday mistletoe wasn’t at all comparable to being held in a man’s arms, breathing in his scent, feeling the heat of his skin through the linen of his shirt. “I—I suppose you’re very accomplished at it,” she said. “In light of your profession.”

That drew a flashing grin from him. “Would you like to find out?”

“First I want to ask you something. How…how long have you been doing this?”

He understood her meaning at once. “Working for Mrs. Bradshaw? Not long at all.”

Amanda wondered what would drive a man like this to prostitute himself. Perhaps he had lost his job, or been dismissed for making a mistake. Perhaps he had fallen into debt, and needed extra money. With his looks and wit and good bearing, there were many occupations he was well suited for. Either he was truly desperate, or he was lazy and dissolute.