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Authors: Bertrice Small
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if she were expecting him to make love to her? Undecided, Emily climbed into her bed. She was in a dreamless sleep before she even knew it. It had been a long, hard day. And it was surely going to get harder before it got easier.
CHAPTER THREE
H e wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the coffee or the cinnamon rolls baking that had awakened him first. He had been lying on his belly. Turning lazily over onto his back, he sniffed appreciatively. The big tall clock in the upstairs hall began to chime. Nine o’clock. He looked across the room toward the window, and saw the day was fair. And for some reason he found that, unlike most Saturdays, he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. He had slept like a damned log the entire night through. Michael Devlin climbed out of bed, peed, brushed his teeth, shaved, and got dressed. Then he headed directly downstairs toward the delicious smells coming from Emily Shanski’s kitchen.
“Damnation!” Emily dropped the pan she was taking from the oven quickly onto the counter, and flung the towel in her hand into the sink.
He was at her side before she even realized he was there, taking her hand and sticking it under cold running water. “It’s not bad. What happened?”
“I almost forgot the rolls, and instead of taking an oven mitt I grabbed a towel,” Emily replied. She turned her head to say thank you, and found herself nose-to-nose with him. Her blue eyes widened with surprise, and then he kissed her.
Her lips were incredibly soft, and she smelled of sweet rolls and lilacs. He slid an arm about her waist, and his kiss deepened as he felt her yielding against him. What was happening? He groaned and let her go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, stepping back a pace.
“Why not?” she asked him, suddenly knowing she had to take the initiative. For all his reputation Devlin was a gentleman. His kiss had been wonderful! She had never before been kissed quite like that. It was fierce and tender all rolled into one.
“I think we both know the answer to that, Emily,” he replied stiffly.
“Sit down, Devlin,” she told him, already pouring him a mug of coffee, and gestured toward the kitchen table. “Have a sweet roll, and let’s discuss the fact that we seem to be attracted to each other.” God in His heaven! Had she really said that? The look of surprise on his face told her she had.
“I’m your editor,” he replied.
“And Savannah Banning tells me you’re a very good one,” Emily answered him. “Why should the fact that we’re being drawn to each other change that?”
“You know Lady Palmer?” he asked her.
“We go way back,” Emily said. “I was her witness when she and Sir Reginald went to the registry office seven years ago. I’m the Honorable William’s godmother.”
He nodded, surprised. It had never occurred to him that Emily Shanski would know the beautiful and flamboyant Savannah Banning. And God knew what the gossipy Lady Palmer had said about him. “More than a business relationship between us would be inappropriate,” he tried to explain, but he sensed she knew that.
“Oh, piffle!” Emily responded. She plunked a roll on his plate and pushed it and the butter toward him. “Do you want to sleep with me?” In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. She didn’t have a whole lot of time, after all, and a sexy, hot Defiant Duchess was due to Stratford at the end of December.
He choked on the bit of roll in his mouth, his face growing red, coughing. “Water!” he gasped, jumping up. She got it for him. Swallowing it, he managed to regain what he hoped would pass for composure. “You’re joking, of course,” he said.
“Are you amused?” she countered dryly. Her blue eyes were actually dancing with merriment, and her lips twitched, as if she wanted to burst into laughter at him.
The little witch was enjoying his discomfiture quite thoroughly, he thought. What would happen if he called her bluff? he wondered.
CHAPTER THREE
H e wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the coffee or the cinnamon rolls baking that had awakened him first. He had been lying on his belly. Turning lazily over onto his back, he sniffed appreciatively. The big tall clock in the upstairs hall began to chime. Nine o’clock. He looked across the room toward the window, and saw the day was fair. And for some reason he found that, unlike most Saturdays, he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. He had slept like a damned log the entire night through. Michael Devlin climbed out of bed, peed, brushed his teeth, shaved, and got dressed. Then he headed directly downstairs toward the delicious smells coming from Emily Shanski’s kitchen.
“Damnation!” Emily dropped the pan she was taking from the oven quickly onto the counter, and flung the towel in her hand into the sink.
He was at her side before she even realized he was there, taking her hand and sticking it under cold running water. “It’s not bad. What happened?”
“I almost forgot the rolls, and instead of taking an oven mitt I grabbed a towel,” Emily replied. She turned her head to say thank you, and found herself nose-to-nose with him. Her blue eyes widened with surprise, and then he kissed her.
Her lips were incredibly soft, and she smelled of sweet rolls and lilacs. He slid an arm about her waist, and his kiss deepened as he felt her yielding against him. What was happening? He groaned and let her go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, stepping back a pace.
“Why not?” she asked him, suddenly knowing she had to take the initiative. For all his reputation Devlin was a gentleman. His kiss had been wonderful! She had never before been kissed quite like that. It was fierce and tender all rolled into one.
“I think we both know the answer to that, Emily,” he replied stiffly.
“Sit down, Devlin,” she told him, already pouring him a mug of coffee, and gestured toward the kitchen table. “Have a sweet roll, and let’s discuss the fact that we seem to be attracted to each other.” God in His heaven! Had she really said that? The look of surprise on his face told her she had.
“I’m your editor,” he replied.
“And Savannah Banning tells me you’re a very good one,” Emily answered him. “Why should the fact that we’re being drawn to each other change that?”
“You know Lady Palmer?” he asked her.
“We go way back,” Emily said. “I was her witness when she and Sir Reginald went to the registry office seven years ago. I’m the Honorable William’s godmother.”
He nodded, surprised. It had never occurred to him that Emily Shanski would know the beautiful and flamboyant Savannah Banning. And God knew what the gossipy Lady Palmer had said about him. “More than a business relationship between us would be inappropriate,” he tried to explain, but he sensed she knew that.
“Oh, piffle!” Emily responded. She plunked a roll on his plate and pushed it and the butter toward him. “Do you want to sleep with me?” In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. She didn’t have a whole lot of time, after all, and a sexy, hot Defiant Duchess was due to Stratford at the end of December.
He choked on the bit of roll in his mouth, his face growing red, coughing. “Water!” he gasped, jumping up. She got it for him. Swallowing it, he managed to regain what he hoped would pass for composure. “You’re joking, of course,” he said.
“Are you amused?” she countered dryly. Her blue eyes were actually dancing with merriment, and her lips twitched, as if she wanted to burst into laughter at him.
The little witch was enjoying his discomfiture quite thoroughly, he thought. What would happen if he called her bluff? he wondered.
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