“I’ll take him, while no one’s about,” Rebecca interrupted, easing the dog from her friend. She hurried from the room before either of them could object—but not before sending Isabelle a sly nod.
The air still charged, Isabelle continued, so unperturbed by the quick entrance and exit he almost had to wonder if it had been planned. “As I was saying, you’re the authority. So again, do you enjoy being kissed on your jaw?” She tapped her lips with a single finger.
“Or maybe your neck?” This time she swiped one of those graceful hands up her bodice, fingering her necklace and bringing to mind improper images. Oneshecertainly shouldn’t be picturing. Her eyes widened a little. “I think I’d like that, definitely.” Her tone was a bit breathless, and he nearly needed to fan himself.
Calm. He needed to be calm. And appropriate.
He cleared his throat. “Well, um, as you’ve demonstrated, everyone is different.” Digging his fingers into his thighs, he fought for composure. “So theoretically, yes, either of those would be enjoyable—with the right woman, naturally.” He gave her a withering once-over, despite the wrestling match in his head between his more lurid imagination and common sense. “Though I can think of better places to kiss.”
“Where?” Isabelle asked, arching both dark eyebrows. With a graceful sweep, she settled into a chair inches away.
Flexing her potential power, no doubt. For why else would she continue to talk to him, of all people, about this? He was her employee, not her friend.
Which should annoy him, as she was wasting their time—time he needed to properly costume himself for her benefit—but irritation was not the emotion stirring in his gut.
Before he could think better of it, Aaron chose his own chair and leaned back indolently to show that she was not in full control. “I’m not sure. Can you repeat the question?” He gave his best imitation of her sly smile. “Please.”
But without a flinch, she asked, “Where else would you like to be kissed by women?”
“If it’s the right woman, anywhere she wants.” He shrugged, giving her the truth. “Her desire makes it all the better.” Better, a hundred times over.
She hummed and ran a finger over her collarbone, almost absently.
“Does that not ring true?” He shifted in his boots, working not to picture his own lips in its place. Because that would never happen. Though the image was a lot better than picturing her and Shultz. He squeezed his hands into fists at the thought of that pompous, spoiled schnorrer daring to even breathe the same air as her.
“I wouldn’t know.” She gave a prim sniff.
“Think of it in the reverse.” And before he could think better of it, he took her gloved hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Think of all the places a man could kiss you and how it might feel. How it might set you alight, with how beautiful and desirable you’d feel.” He gazed at her, his own set of mental images starting again, in which her fingers were bare. As well as her legs. And her shoulders. And a few other parts. “Then imagine you doing so with that same man, but this time, his eyes are alight, and he’s murmuring uncontrollably how beautiful and desirable you are.” His voice had grown thick and—damn it all. He should not be engaging this way with her.
She gave him a dark glare. “He’d have to be a very good actor.”
Aaron started. She had to be joking. She owned mirrors, didn’t she? And no doubt had been told how beautiful she was every day, her entire life.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And if you really need one, I’m sure you have a dozen people you could command.”
“That’s why I like you. I may be paying you, but you aren’t a sycophant.” She wagged a finger at him.
His gut warmed with pleasure, despite himself. “You like me?”
“And now we’re even, as you aren’t getting a response either.” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “As for the rest, I recognize that I’m not unattractive. I’m rather pretty, even. Though I have a great deal of assistance there.” She stroked her lace-edged sleeves. “It’s just that I think the rest of my . . . accoutrements outshine, well, any other aspect of me.” She swept a hand over her entire body, as if to demonstrate her point, but she failed miserably, as her considerable beauty certainly had his attention.
“Even if I didn’t intend to marry for business, I have no delusions any man wedding me would be doing so for physical desire alone,” she continued. “I come with too much money, too much influence, so any attraction would always be tangled with that. I’m an entity more than a person.”
Something within him twisted painfully. Even if he was only an employee to her. But despite the sad, almost too-old look in her eye, he said, “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.” Which would be ridiculous given her pampered life.
“I’m not asking you to.” She straightened, looking impossibly regal once more. “Besides, it’s better this way. I like to know what to expect, so I can better protect myself. As I told you, I was raised to run a surety company, so guarding against disaster is in my blood.”
Still, not a particularly pleasurable way to live. What was the purpose of all her money and power if she spent her entire life avoiding risks instead of enjoying it?
“Fair enough.” He rose, offering her both hands. “So are you ready to begin?” She accepted and he pulled her to her feet. When she stumbled, he steadied her, until they stood face to face.
“After your transformation.” She slid her arm into his, fitting easily at his side, giving him a slight, playful squeeze, before exiting the room, leaving him more confused than ever.
Straightening her gloves for the fiftieth time as she readied herself to greet her guests, Isabelle worked not to flush at the memory of Aaron’s supportive warmth. Such a contrast to the nervous chills that she’d been struggling to hold at bay. The effect of his presence ought to be immaterial. He was practically a stranger. And the wrong sort, as he could offer her nothing of use beyond the task for which he’d been hired.
Yet she’d found comfort in the way he guided her, the way her skirts brushed against his legs. The way everything seemed to melt away when they were together.
Which was ridiculous.
