One More for Christmas(98)

Finally, when they were both exhausted, he pulled a blanket over them and she lay in the curl of his arm, eyes closed, wishing she never had to move.

“I’ve never had sex on the floor before.”

He tugged her closer, making sure she didn’t tumble off the sofa. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm.” She nuzzled his neck. “What?”

“Were you thinking about work just then?”

“I—what?”

“Work. I need to know if you were thinking about work.”

She was barely aware of where she was or who she was, and he was wondering if she was thinking about work? “No. I haven’t even—Just no.”

“Good.”

She lifted her head and saw a smug smile spread across his face. “Why would you ask that question?”

“Because the first time we spoke, you said you wanted to have a love affair so consuming you would forget about work.”

She thought back to the conversation and then laughed. “Are you kidding?”

“No. In any other woman, trying to take her mind off work might be a low bar, but not you. You eat, dream and sleep work. And then there’s all the other stuff—”

“What other stuff?”

He cleared his throat. “Your reading habits.”

She slid her hand over his chest, her smile teasing. “The title was One Night with the Laird.”

“Right. And I’m hoping this might be more than one night, but either way you have to understand that a book like that would give any guy performance anxiety.”

“‘A book like that’?” She moved her hand lower. “You haven’t even read it.”

“In fact I have, but even if I hadn’t, I had the dubious pleasure of hearing your sister reading from it.”

“You’ve read it?”

“I downloaded it that same night. I told myself that if you had certain expectations of what it would be like here in Scotland, I needed to know what they were. I confess I found his sexual prowess a little daunting. I may have spent the intervening time thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t kiss you.”

“The main one being that we’re working together?”

“That didn’t even feature.”

“What then?”

“For a start I don’t own a carriage and horses.” He pulled her closer. “I did consider buying a carriage to enhance my rakish appeal, but a four-wheel drive is more practical on these roads. And it seems I’m supposed to have an unhappy relationship with alcohol—I have to confess that currently my relationship with alcohol is more than happy.”

She glanced at the bottle and the empty glasses on the table. “Mine, too.”

“You, of course, should be showing a certain ruthlessness toward me and creeping off in the dead of night in order to conceal your identity.”

“It’s a little late for that part. And if I slunk out of this cottage you’d find my naked body dead in a ditch tomorrow.”

“Which would be a terrible waste. Also difficult to explain. I did consider throwing you over my horse and galloping away with you, but Pepper is eighteen and has arthritis so that might not be the romantic ending you’re searching for.”

“Noted.” She kissed his cheek and then his jaw. “Anything else?”

“You should probably tell your sister for the record that I generally do remove my glasses before I make love.”

She lifted her head. “You heard that?”

“Your sister doesn’t have a little voice.”

Samantha grinned and kissed his shoulder. “I should be embarrassed, but I think I’ve moved beyond it.”

“Good.” He ran his hand gently down her back. “Do you want to go back to the house?”

“Do we have to?”

“No. We could spend the night here and then creep back in like thieves before anyone else is awake which, now I think about it, could be a scene right out of your Regency romance.”

“It could, although if that’s the way we’re going, you should probably find a way for me to climb unnoticed through my bedroom window.”

“Given that your bedroom window is on the fourth floor and I’m notoriously bad on ladders, I would propose the stairs, madam.”

She propped herself up so that they were face-to-face. His eyes were sleepy, hooded, and without his glasses she could see that his lashes were thick and dark.

“Right now you look more rakish and real than any hero in my books.”

“I shall be careful not to move or speak. That way I can’t shatter the image.” He put his arm round her and pulled her closer so that their mouths were almost touching. “I should have had champagne chilling in the fridge, so we could have dealt with all your fantasies at once.”

“Tonight has been better than any fantasy. I just wish we didn’t have to go back to reality.”

He tucked the blanket round her. “We could move to the bedroom. Despite the blanket on the floor of my office, I do actually own a bed.”

“I like it here.”

“You’re not cold?”

“I’m snug.” She lay still for a moment. “You said that if you fell, you’d break your glasses. Does that happen often?”