Now this had never happened before. No woman had ever simply entered his office and kissed him in the middle of the day. In fact, other than his mother, no woman had ever kissed him. Even his secretary, who was watching them from beyond his open office door, seemed shocked. The young man’s eyes widened before he quickly returned his attention to the papers on his desk.
Serves him right for not minding his own business. My business, Daniel thought.
The scents of honeysuckle and lemon drifted past his nose, bringing with them a jumble of memories from summers spent down in Derbyshire at his maternal grandparents’ estate. They did not, however, bring a memory ofher.
Lowering her half-boots to the wooden floorboards, she regarded him with that same knowing grin before she suddenly sobered. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked in dismay.
“Uh...” He shook his head. This was surely some sort of setup. An arrangement made to interrupt his work on theMcDonald project. Although he had a verbal assurance from the judge to do the design, he didn’t yet have the contract. It was possible he was up against only one other architect for the job. Wilkins didn’t have the vision necessary for a post-Georgian era building in New Town, though. The old codger did better at the few restorations being done in the medieval Old Town of Edinburgh.
Daniel chuckled softy at the thought she might be a lady of the evening hired by his friend, Watson, to embarrass him. “Watson put you up to this, didn’t he?” he asked. “How much did he pay you?”
The woman arched the blonde brow again, but her expression lost all its humor. “You really don’t remember me,” she whispered.
Daniel swallowed. Perhaps she was an actress. Yes, that would be just like Watson to hire an actress to embarrass him in the middle of his workday, in front of his secretary, who he was quite sure preferred the company of men to women and probably only worked for him because he was such a handsome example of a mortal man.
Before he could respond to the woman’s comment, he noted how for the briefest of moments, a look of disappointment crossed her face. Or was that anger? Mayhap tinged with a bit of... dare he think it? Evil?
“Then I suppose I must make an effort to leave you with the very best first impression,” she said.
Before Daniel knew quite what was happening, she placed both gloved hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him on the lips.
He was so stunned, he didn’t respond at first. Except he did open his mouth, because, well, wouldn’t anyone who was shocked? The sensation of such soft pillows pressed to his lipswas so pleasing, so unexpected, he inhaled softly and discovered exactly what made a kiss so enjoyable.
The suckling sensation was quite addictive. So much so, he returned the kiss in equal measure, angling his head slightly in an effort to better fit his lips to hers. Ten degrees... no, make that a fifteen degree tilt of his head, and their lips were perfectly locked. As for what to do next, his hands seemed to know before he did, capturing her waist on either side despite the distant thought that his fingertips were nearly black with the Cumberland graphite from the pencil he used to do his architectural drawings. The yellow fabric would be stained with his fingerprints.
Well, it would serve her right, invading his office in the middle of a workday and behaving as if she were a rake.
Or would that berakette?
He couldn’t be too upset with her, though, even if she was an actress. This kissing was rather enjoyable, as was the sensation of one gloved hand smoothing down the side of his waistcoat. He hoped her fingers wouldn’t discover the opening in the side seam where the thread had broken. He didn’t wear a topcoat whilst he worked at his drafting table, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow to keep them from becoming smeared with graphite.
Dammit. Her forefinger had caught in the hole just as her palm reached his hip. He heard a sound and realized he had made it in the back of his throat.
A warning sound, as if part of him—the sane-and-never-been-kissed part of him—knew what was to happen next.
The I’m-enjoying-this-kiss-and-how-dare-you-stop-me part of him tried to ignore it. That is, until her gloved hand flattened over the front of his pantaloons in an area that had suddenly grown tight.
The I’m-enjoying-this-kiss-and-how-dare-you-stop-me part of him lost its battle when he jerked back, breaking off the kiss—and her contact down below—leaving him to blink several times in disbelief.
He stared down at her, his shock slowly abating as he considered what he should do next, especially when he saw how her eyes were slightly glazed, her lips red and swollen, her cheeks pink with warmth.
He had half a mind to start the kiss again, but the thought of what she would tell Watson had him reconsidering.
He should throw her out of his office, of course. Lift her over his shoulder and unceremoniously dump her on the settee he had purchased for the outer office in an effort to make his business appear more legitimate. Scold her for her impertinence—didn’t she have a better way to make her living than kissing unsuspecting gentlemen in their places of business? Perhaps acting didn’t pay very well, but that didn’t mean she could simply interrupt his workday and kiss him without warning.
“How much did he pay you?” he asked.
It was her turn to blink. “Pay me?” she repeated, her voice sounding breathy. “Whatever are you talking about?” Her attention had gone to his waistcoat, and he saw how one of her blonde brows furrowed as she once again pressed a finger to the open edge of the superfine wool.
Apparently she had noticed the hole in his side seam, not hard given her finger had been caught in it only the moment before.
“Watson. How much did he pay you to come in here and... and kiss me?”
Her brows rose in unison as a look of delight appeared to lighten her features. “No onepaidme, you idiot,” she said, pulling her hand away from his waistcoat. “If you’re still friendswith that ne’er-do-well, then you would already know he’s too Scotch to pay for anything.”
Daniel gave a start. It was true. Callum Watson wasn’t a spendthrift.
“But I did wonder how long you would allow it,” she said, angling her head as she sighed. “Apologies,sir. Apparently I’ve taken up too much of your time. Perhaps we can continue this reunion when you’re not at your place of employment.” Without another word, she dipped a slight curtsy and took her leave.
