“No, there’s not.” She nodded firmly. “He and I understand each other perfectly. What we’re able to offer each other is only temporary and can never, ever be anything more.” She grimaced because it was true. No matter what they shared, no matter what he said, he could most certainly get better elsewhere. She bent down to clean some grease that had dripped into the grate.
“I didn’t say you were the one who was going to get—” Her sister, having moved back into the parlor, cut herself off by releasing a shriek.
Grabbing the poker, Hannah raced from the kitchen, only to stop short at the man calmly sitting on thefainting couch in their makeshift parlor. Reading that damnedSense and Sensibilitynovel. His tan trousers and plaid wool coat were a bit more subdued than usual, but they didn’t take away from his handsomeness.
Worse, he appeared completely relaxed and at home. Almost as if he belonged. Which he certainly did not. Almost as irksome as the fact that he’d gotten into her space without detection.
Something of which he was no doubt odiously proud.
An odd longing to lie beside him with her head on his lap as he read rose in her mind. Which—no. That was ridiculous. She didn’t want or need such things.
And the fact that her mind had even conjured such an image, well, that was proof he needed to go. Now.
She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And how did you get in?”
With an irritating calm, he closed the book and laid it back on the end table, which she really should have dusted. “You—you were a touch distracted with other tasks, so I thought I’d wait here until you were finished.”
Hannah blinked at him for a moment before turning to her sister, working to keep the sharpness out of her voice. “Tamar—why don’t you go downstairs and make sure all the doors are locked and the back room is organized.” Because she was not having this conversation in front of her.
Tamar gazed back and forth between her and Sol, before clearing her throat and backing toward the door. “Of course,” she said with a nod, though her tone was a touch odd.
Hannah waited for the snick of the latch before glaring at the man on the couch.
He needed to stop reading romantic stories—likethe one he held now—before any consequences befell them.
“I told you, you shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your world.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Yes, you’ve reminded me of that quite a few times.” He rose, the worn springs beneath him creaking. “And yet here I am.” He spread his arms wide, taking up even more space.
Which would not do.
Widening her own stance a touch, she threw him another dark glare. “Hence my question: What are you doing here?’”
“I had to speak with you,” he said, clasping his hands together, all earnestness.
“We spoke this morning,” she told him, working to keep control of the conversation. “And if you’re here to tell me you can’t see me again because you’ve found the right heiress to marry, well, a note would’ve sufficed. Or nothing at all. I told you, I know who I am, and you can’t hurt me that way. I promise. Though, honestly, just disappearing would’ve been more—”
“Hannah.” He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them so they were nearly nose to nose.
“What?” She whispered the word even as she forced her posture straight.
“Kiss me.” The words were not fully a question and not quite a demand, but somehow, she was powerless to disobey. No, instead of shoving him out the door and out of her life, she slid her hand behind his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Opening for him, drinking him in, as he matched her with earth-shattering intensity. Sending not only pleasure through her veins, but something else, something more dangerous. Something closer to want.
Something likeneed.
His arms still wrapped around her waist, he eased his mouth back from hers, touching his lips to her forehead with an aching gentleness that threatened to shatter her senses, before gazing down at her.
“I have no desire to pursue anyone but you,” he told her, his voice firm. As if that truth would never change. Or more likely, because he believed it never would. Because he was young and naïve and had never needed to see the world as it truly was. However, she knew a great deal better.
“For now.” She drew away from him and moved to the window, futzing with the cord and pulling back the curtain, face toward the glass and the slush-covered, gray rooftops beyond.
“Forever,” he called.
“Ha.” She snorted as she whirled back around, wagging a finger at him. “You say that here, in the moment, but only because this is new. You’re clever, but you’re young. I’m not. I’ve seen this. I know how this works. I know the world. I know who I am. Trust me, once you come to your senses and see—”
“And see what?” He folded his arms over his thickly layered coat and vest and—was that a cheery orange cravat?
Heaving a great sigh, she shook her head. “I am not for you.” Why could he not get that in his head? After all, she had a business to run and a sister to marry off. And money to earn. And her options to do so grew slimmer and more dangerous by the day.
