Either way, the answer was still…
“No, Miss Thorncroft. Idon’tagree.”
Her smile disappeared. Her eyes narrowed. Her chin lifted. “Is this because I am a woman? Is that why you don’t believe I meet your lofty qualifications? Perhaps I’ve never been employed as a secretary before, but I can assure you I am as intelligent and well-read as any man. I’m also more than capable of handling any tasks you put before me.”
Kincaid didn’t doubt that Joanna could topple mountains if she put her mind to it. For such a little slip of a thing, her courage and persistence was formidable. But he’d drawn his line, and he wouldn’t cross it. No matter how sweet the enticement was on the other side.
He had been down this road to hell before. He had the scars to prove it.
And he had no desire to travel it again.
“Miss Thorncroft, my inability to take you on as a secretary—or a client—has nothing to do with your intelligence, or your work ethic.” Having shuffled and straightened every piece of paper on his desk, he laid his hands flat and pushed his weight into them. “This is a personal decision.”
“Personal?” Her head tilted in confusion. “But you don’t know me well enough to dislike me yet. It usually takes a few days. Or so I’ve been told.” She bit her lip and gave a small, apologetic shrug. “It seems I can be rather…obstinate.”
“Really?” Kincaid said dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
A huff of breath whistled between her lips. “Kincaid, I must implore you to reconsider. My sister and I have traveled a very long way—”
“You’ve a sister?” he interrupted.
Wonderful.
As if one gorgeous, stubborn American running amok in London wasn’t bad enough, there was a pair of them. And no, he wasn’t going to allow himself to imagine them naked. Together. Doing things.
Naughtythings.
No, he wasn’t going to imagine that at all.
Absolutely not.
“Yes,” Joanna replied. “Well, two sisters actually, but—”
Bloody hell.
“—Claire stayed at home.”
Thank God for small favors.
“Miss Thorncroft.” Gritting his teeth, he latched on to his self-control with all the desperate strength of a drowning sailor clinging onto the side of a sinking ship. “I do not know how many different ways I can say the same thing. I cannot, under any circumstances, hire you on. It’s completely out of the question.”
“I…I see.” Giving James a final scratch behind the ears, Joanna gently set him aside and stood up. Walking towards Kincaid, she extended her hand across the desk. “Very well, Kincaid. I respect your decision, in as much as I disagree with it. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Relief flowed through Kincaid as he took her small, delicate hand in his considerably larger one. He began to shake it. And then he saw her stubborn chin wobble.
Such a tiny movement, really.
Hardly perceptible.
Easy to ignore.
Except he couldn’t ignore it. Nor could he ignore the sudden clench in his gut. His fingers tightened around hers, unconsciously drawing her closer.
“Miss Thorncroft…”
“Yes?” she whispered.
Kincaid closed his eyes.
