“By all means, please enlighten me, then.” Kneeling, she began to collect the papers that had been knocked to the floor. Her fingers brushed against the ear loop of his spectacles. Wordlessly, she picked them up and extended her arm above her head.
“Thank you.” Kincaid took the spectacles. He was quiet for a few seconds before he said, “I’m afraid this isn’t the first time I’ve had…feelings for a client.”
“You’ve feelings for me?” Jumping on his choice of words like a cat on a poor, unsuspecting mouse, Joanna gathered the stack of papers and leapt to her feet. “What sort of feelings?” she asked as her pulse fluttered.
This was what she’d been waiting for. Kincaid to actuallyexpresshis emotions instead of concealing them behind that damned stone wall. Who knew all it would take was a bit of heavy fondling? Heavens, had she knownthatshe might have been tempted to kiss him the first day she walked into his office! It certainly would have saved them both some time, and she quivered when she thought of all the climaxes—was that the right word for it? She thought that was the right word for it—she could have had between then and now.
Unfortunately, her newfound hope quickly withered like a flower denied rain when she saw the expression upon Kincaid’s countenance.
“You’re a truly lovely woman, Miss Thorncroft,” he began.
“Oh, dear,” she mumbled. Nothing, in the history of all humankind, had ever gone well after a sentence began with “you’re a truly lovely woman”.
“But—”
“Here it comes,” she sighed.
“I would kindly ask you to forget this ever happened.”
Joanna stared blankly at him. “You want me toforgetyou had your hand on my—”
“Yes,” he said hastily. “Yes, that’s precisely what I want you to do.”
“I was going to say shoulder.”
His eyebrow raised. “Of course. Because Americans are known for theirpropriety.”
A valid point.
Biting on the inside of her cheek, she placed the papers on his desk, then pivoted to face him, her gaze (and her heart) troubled. “I must be honest. I don’t know if Icanforget.”
“You must try, or else…”
“Or else?” she said softly.
“Or else I would advise you to find another private investigator, Miss Thorncroft.”
He wouldn’t dare.
Except he would, and they both knew it.
“You can still call me Joanna,” she offered. “If you’d like.”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t believe that would be wise, Miss Thorncroft.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. It was just a name. Except it wasn’t.
And they both knew it.
Her name was a barrier. One of the last that stood between them and…well, more of what had happened on the desk.
Joanna would have liked more.
She would have liked more very much.
But it was clear that while Kincaid had enjoyed himself (hehadenjoyed himself, hadn’t he?), there was no interest in a repeat performance.
“All right,” she conceded. “I shall endeavor to do as you’ve requested and forget this ever happened. Except…why can’t we enjoy each other’s company? We are both adults.”
