And they were back to Miss Thorncroft again.
How utterly disappointing.
“I am not going anywhere.” Marching briskly across the room, she poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the edge of his desk. “You are going to drink this, I am going to make fresh coffee, and then we are going to go about our day as usual. You may not want me here. But I’ve a job to do, and so do you.”
If Kincaid refused to kiss her (and he calledherthe stubborn one), then the least he could do was honor their agreement. Which meant until their trial period expired or the ring was found, she was to stay on as his secretary. A position she could hardly fulfill if she wasn’t in his office.
Subtlety, she reminded herself as she thrust the glass at him. Subtlety…and patience. Just because Kincaid wasn’t ready to admit his feelings for her didn’t mean he did not have them. They were there. She was sure of it. As sure of anything she’d ever been in her life.
And maybe shewasimpulsive, to want an affair. Maybe she was even foolish.
But she was also determined.
Because of Kincaid, she knew what it felt like to be aroused. To be wanted. To bedesired. And she wasn’t going to just give all that up and return to her humdrum courtships with suitors like Charles Gaines.
No matter how perfectly practical they were.
“You’re an exceedingly difficult woman, Miss Thorncroft,” said Kincaid darkly as he accepted the water.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” The corners of his eyes crinkling, he brought the glass to his lips.
If Joanna didn’t know any better, she’d think he was actuallygrinning.
“I’ll start the coffee.” As she left the room, she could feel his eyes burning a hole in her backside with every step she took. A small, catlike smile teasing her mouth, she gave an extra tilt of her hips as she went through the doorway and all but heard him groan.
Her smile widened.
Poor handsome, emotionally aloof detective.
He really didn’t stand a chance.
*
Joanna worked throughthe morning, sorting through piles of old missives and bills, while Kincaid tallied numbers and wrote letters. They were quiet, but it was a comfortable sort of silence, and more than once she glanced up to discover Kincaid staring at her, his gaze oddly contemplative.
Shortly after lunch—buttered bread, thin slices of leftover roasted mutton, and cold pudding—which they ate together in the sparsely decorated dining room, Kincaid put on his long jacket and hat and reached for his journal.
“I have a call to make,” he said brusquely. “You can finish what you’re doing and see yourself out. I don’t have anything else for you to do today.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
He gave the curved brim of his bowler an absent tug. “To question the staff in a case I’ve agreed to take on for a personal friend. I should not be long, but I wouldn’t want you to wait for me to return. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
She really didn’t, which was why she hastily grabbed her burgundy frock coat and followed after him. Wherever Kincaid was going, that was where she wanted to be. Mostly because she found herself perpetually drawn to him, and a little bit because she wanted to see what Kincaid’s job consisted of when he wasn’t behind his desk. Compared to alphabetizing paperwork, questioning servants sounded downright thrilling.
Not shockingly, Kincaid was less than pleased.
“What are you doing, Miss Thorncroft?” he asked when she caught up to him on the front path after giving James a farewell scratch behind his ears and a tiny piece of leftover mutton.
“Accompanying you,” she replied cheerfully before she preceded him through the gate and onto the sidewalk. A light breeze stirred the air, teasing the tiny wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. She had “forgotten” her bonnet in the office, and no inclination to retrieve it. Evie was adamant that too much sun stained the skin with freckles, but Joanna rather liked the tiny collection of dots across her nose and cheeks.
“I do not recall extending you an invitation,” Kincaid said, casting her an irate glare over his shoulder as he secured the gate.
“Which is why I invited myself. Iamyour secretary.” She knew it was naughty of her, but Joanna did so enjoy annoying him. She loved the way his eyes flashed when he was angry, revealing tiny fragments of gold in the irises that only appeared when his temper ran high. She loved the way he ran his hands through his hair, leaving the ends disheveled. And she especially loved the heated way he stared at her, as if he didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle her…or kiss her.
“No,” he said flatly. “Out of the question.”
