Brogan sat in the bustling coffeehouse, tapping his thumbs on his third cup of the dark brew. He felt tense. Twitchy.
He didn’t like it.
And his restlessness had nothing to do with the coffee. Juliana sat across from him, looking as calm and collected as no woman had the right to look after the night they had spent.
The things he had done to her.
His groin tightened at the memories.
There had been nothing in his apartments that morning to feed her, so Brogan had taken Juliana to the coffeehouse near his office. A half-eaten jam tart rested in front of her along with a steaming cup of chocolate.
Juliana slid her finger through a bit of jelly that streaked her plate and brought it to her mouth.
Brogan pulled at the leg of his trousers, hoping to give his poor, teased cock some breathing room as she sucked at the tip of her finger. The little minx must know what effect she had on him.
He knew how his body felt about the woman seated across from him; he didn't know quite how to feel about what they'd done last night, however.
She was the most enticing woman he'd ever met. She knew what she wanted, and she put all her efforts into getting it. Unfortunately, what she seemed to want was him. And he had doubts about the intelligence of that.
“Are you expecting an attack from some quarter?” she asked. “Some dangerous criminal to draw down on you?”
He started. “What? What are you talking about?”
She shrugged. “You've been tense all morning. As though you're expecting something bad to happen at any moment.”
He blew out a long breath and rolled his shoulders. She was right. She just didn’t realize that she was the threat he was wary of. “I'm fine.”
She dabbed her lips with her napkin. A rousing chorus of jeers and laughter at the table next to theirs made those lips curve upwards.
Juliana was a strange woman. She even joined in other people’s joy, and he had a hard time seeking his own. It was a realization that didn’t sit well. He didn’t want to live a cheerless life.
He didn’t want to live an immoral one, either.
“Look,” she said, “things don't have to be awkward between us. I think you're making too much of last night. I know you think there can be nothing between us. But we aren't even at the point of seeing if we would want to make each other promises. Can't we just enjoy each other and see where it goes? It might end in a month. We might become sick of the sight of each other.”
He snorted. “I sincerely doubt that.” His gaze dropped to her bosom, her hips. Even covered in a thick, scarlet silk, her body was a tempting sight. He finally had an accurate image of her every inch, no imagination needed. And it wasn't something he'd ever tire of seeing.
She leaned forward. “This doesn't have to be complicated. We'll make it whatever works best for us.”
Brogan ground his back teeth. She made it sound simple, something easily had… and easily broken off. He should be grateful she felt the way she did. Grateful she wouldn’t cling or cry when their affair came to its inevitable end.
But would a few tears be too much to ask for? Her nonchalant attitude grated on his nerves. “An affair between you, an unmarried daughter of an earl, and me, a Cit, is not only complicated, but scandalous if it ever comes to light.”
“We’ll be discreet.” She picked up her cup. “Such things are not as uncommon for my set as you might think.”
He gripped the edge of the table. How casual she was. How careless. The sentiments she’d developed from her unusual education had made their affair possible, but it also made her blind to its dangers.
In civilized circles, their liaison was unthinkable.
Letting her go was equally so.
He slapped his hand on the table. She made it sound simple, and perhaps it could be. Perhaps he was thinking too far ahead. It was better to enjoy the moment, sweet as it was, and not worry about the future.
“All right,” he said. “One day at a time.”
The door to the coffeehouse swung open and two familiar figures strolled inside.
Brogan nodded at Wil and Lord Summerset, one of the owners of the agency.
