He jutted his chin west. “A block over.” Taking her elbow again, he guided her into the three-story building before them. “We’ll spend the night at the Bond Agency’s offices. I’ll take you home in the morning.”
A night in his offices. She glanced at the large hand gently cupping her arm. At the muscled body attached to that hand.
A lot could happen in a night. A lot of ways for her to slip free.
Mr. Brogan Duffy thought her spoiled and entitled. A selfish woman, thinking only of her own pleasures.
She could work with that.
He opened a door, his wide shoulders blocking out the lights from the window. He lit an oil lamp, and those broad shoulders became clearly defined, narrowing into a trim waist, supported by muscled thighs.
She repressed the smile that wanted to curl her lips.
She could work very well with that indeed.
Chapter Six
Brogan fluffed the thin pillow as best he could before tossing it on the cot in the corner of Wil’s office. The accommodations were surely not to Lady Juliana’s liking, but the woman would have to make do. He couldn’t take her to his apartments; his neighbors would speak of nothing else for a month at least.
And he wasn’t letting her out of his sight until she was safely back home.
“A blanket’s there,” he pointed to a chest next to the cot, “and there’s a pitcher of water in the main office. ‘Night.”
Juliana stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Where will you sleep?”
He nodded through the door to the main room. The owners of the agency and Wil had separate rooms as their offices, but Brogan enjoyed sharing the large room with the other investigators. They tossed around ideas and theories on current cases with one another, laughed over absurd clients. For someone used to more solitary work, the brotherhood was a welcome surprise.
“I’ll be at my desk,” he said. “Good night.”
He stepped through the doorway, and she stopped him again. “Can you help me with my gown?” Juliana bit her lip and looked at the floor. “I don’t want it wrinkled by sleeping in it.”
His abdomen tensed. What she said only made sense, but he didn’t trust her new docility.
Nor did he trust his ability to keep his eyes from roaming.
“Or course.” He motioned for her to turn around, give him her back. He’d had years of training, of self-discipline. One half-naked woman wasn’t enough to make him lose his good sense. He’d make sure of it.
The elegant knot in her hair covered the top button. He brushed it aside, ignoring the silkiness of the strands, trying not to wonder what else on this woman would feel as soft. He pushed the pearl button through its hole. The gown sagged off one shoulder as he worked his way down her back. He kept his gaze off the expanse of skin he was revealing and focused on not tearing any of the buttons from the silly gown. Why did any garment need so many buttons? It was absurd. It was as if it were designed for the sole purpose of teasing a man, delaying his pleasure in seeing his prize, tempting him to follow the trail to its happy conclusion.
The last button rested just above the curve of her arse. A very fine, plump arse.
“Done.” He stared at the far wall, willing every muscle in his body to stand down. “Sleep well.” He stomped towards his desk.
“My stays…” she called from the doorway.
“Are not my problem.” He built a fire, poking at the logs with unnecessary force. Women. Did she actually think she could seduce him into betraying his duty? He glared at the flames.
“It’s too cold in there.”
Brogan started. In her bare feet, he hadn’t heard the dratted woman follow him into the main office.
Juliana stood before him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders but dipping low enough in front for him to see the curve of her breasts over her chemise. Her long hair hung down her back, looking sexily tousled.
Apparently, she did think she could seduce him.
He sighed. “You can wear my greatcoat.”
“But then you’ll be cold.”
