He should be more careful with that smile. It could give a woman ideas.
“I take it we’re in accordance about what’s to be done?” she both stated and asked, desperate to change the subject.
His eyebrows lifted, and now it was his turn to let a beat pass before replying. His turn to hold her in suspense. Mayhap he would ignore her query and make one of his own. One less pragmatic. One more in line with the subtext rippling between them. His reaction to her confession yesterday had the unanticipated effect of only strengthening her desire for him.
No wife of mine will ever be subject to such a marriage.
A shiver, warm and liquid, purled up her spine.
“About this house?” He broke eye contact. “I think you should take it.”
A chill spiked through her. As if the cells in her body recognized his switch from warm to cool before her brain could process it. As if she understood him on a cellular level. The only logical conclusion to that thought was that he’d become part of her.
Unsettled by logic surely flawed, she gave herself a mental shake. “No, Ja—my lord”—She simply must stop giving herself leave to think of him as Jake—“about theLondon Diary.”
“Ah.” He craned his neck and glanced up at the blackened skylight. “Shall we take this conversation upstairs?”
She tore her gaze away from him as a measure of self-protection. His words didn’t mean what her body prayed they did. All she could say in return was, “Pardon?” And what a weak return it was.
“An intriguing bit of information about this house has come my way.”
It just occurred to her to ask, “Is it related to the gray door at the top of the staircase?” At his nod, she continued, “I know about it.” An exaggeration, of course, but short of an outright lie.
“Then you must be as curious as I to see it.”
He stepped toward the staircase, and, for a charged second, she thought he was stepping toward her, an idea that made her not unpleasantly uncomfortable. Then he swerved left, his arm a light, fleeting brush against hers. His step might have hesitated, she couldn’t be sure, but then shook off the notion when he slipped past her.
His athletic form took on the steep and winding staircase two steps at a time as if it were an easy London sidewalk. A tiny stab of envy pricked her. If her mode of dress had allowed it, she would have raced him to the top, perhaps even beating him, likely not.
Instead, she followed at a sedate, ladylike pace. A pace that might be construed as demure to the observer who lacked insight into her most intimate thoughts. They had gone reliably astray at the sight of his gorgeous form in motion. Impossibly handsome was too tame.
Impossibly gorgeous male. How was that for a more specific descriptor?
Her feet three steps from the top, the impossibly gorgeous male disappeared through the discreet open doorway, connecting to a short hallway that dead-ended into a solid black door. “Do you have the key ring with you?” he called out.
Silently, she extended the keys as she approached. They jangled excitedly in an anticipation mirroring her own. The close proximity to him in the darkness of an enclosed space did specific things to specific parts of her body. Parts of her body that weren’t satisfied by phantom memories of his touch.
She was about to take a step backward to put a bit of comfortable distance between them when he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. He disappeared through the doorway, and a gust of damp London air hit her. Curiosity propelling her forward, she followed. Her feet crossed the threshold, and the breath caught in her chest.
A rooftop garden, lit only by the moon and stars above, transported her into another world, one not bound by the rules of this one. One lush with green grass and springtime tulips and lit only by moonlight and twinkling stars. This rooftop was magic, pure and simple.
She whipped around to find Jake—how could his name be any other in this moment?—and detected foreknowledge in his eyes. He’d known, but he hadn’t wanted to rob her of the pleasure of discovery.
What a lovely act of generosity.
“This is it,” she heard herself say, feeling all distance between them, both physical and emotional, vanish.
The intimacy of this space also worked another sort of magic on her. Her face broke wide into an unreserved smile, uncaring of where such a smile could lead her, could leadthem. . .
“This is my home. This is the magic I’ve been searching for,” she whispered, never once breaking eye contact.
~ ~ ~
Jake was the first to break it.
He couldn’t hold her gaze and say what he must. “Then there is no reason for us to discuss how to handle theLondon Diaryhaiku.”
“Pardon?” she asked, puzzlement in her voice.
