“Are you all right?” she asked. She extended her hand to help him up.
“Well, I still don’t have a clue what to ‘swash’ means, but I seem to have buckled the chair.”
“Perhaps it’s the masculine of ‘swish’? Lil suggested.
Granger laughed. Then he took her hand and got up. He continued to hold it as they both surveyed the remnants of the chair in silence.
“I’m real sorry,” he said.
“I do apologize,” she said at the same time.
A long, pregnant pause followed.
“That’s all right. I’m sure it would be impolite for me to sue you for damages.” He grinned to soften his words.
Lil drew her eyebrows together and tried to tug her hand from his, but he held on. Very unladylike and disconcerting sexual charges zipped from her hand to other parts of her body. Unmentionable ones.
“Tell you what,” he said, bending his head close to hers.
She swallowed, feeling dwarfed by his big body and mesmerized by his eyes. “What?”
“I won’t sue you if you’ll give me a kiss.”
4
REAL SMOOTH, DAN. You smash the woman’s chair, make an ass out of yourself, mock her and threaten her. Now you’re trying to blackmail her and kiss her, too? What in the hell is wrong with you, man?
But he still held her tiny, fine-boned hand captive in his, while she stared at him with those unbelievably hot, smoldering black eyes of hers. They were exotic, beautifully shaped and slanted down at the outside corners. They were framed by long, sooty lashes that, at the moment, stabbed upward like tiny black daggers toward his face.
“You’ve got a nerve, Mr. Granger,” she said. But her hand trembled in his and her lips—pale, perfect, prim—parted ever so slightly.
It was all the opening Dan needed. He angled his face over hers, inhaled her fragrance of jasmine and sweet floral soap, and ever-so-gently touched the tip of his tongue to her pale lips.
Hers parted even more, surprised. He continued to taste her in tiny degrees, taking in the fresh strawberry essence on those lips, the faint traces of Ceylon tea, the sweetness of butter-cookies.
Since she made no move of protest, he settled his lips on hers and kissed her hungrily, dominating her mouth with his own. She opened at his insistence and he explored her, feeling the smooth surfaces of her teeth, nipping at the plumpness of her bottom lip, and rubbing languorously against the tip of her tongue with his own.
She made a faint, ladylike noise of either submission or approval, and it drove him wild.
He wanted to see her naked skin, feel the flesh of her thigh, lick the curve of her breast. Tongue her nipple, hear her moan into his ear, plunge a finger inside her.
Dan wanted to penetrate that Audrey Hepburn coolness and take her from the gates of proper to the open field of thrashingly, screamingly improper.
He was scant inches away from closing his hand over her breast when some internal monitor in his brain informed him that it would be a very, very bad idea.
Lilia wasn’t a woman he could push into sex. He had to make her want it as badly as he did. He had to tease her until she couldn’t help herself.
He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. One wrong move, and he was toast. He pulled away from her and searched for her reaction.
She refused to look him in the eye, but her breathing was fast and uneven, just the way he’d hoped. After a moment she said, “I can’t believe you just did that, Mr. Granger.” And she smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of her immaculate skirt.
“Neither can I. But since I did, do you think you could call me Dan? And maybe, just maybe, I could call you Lilia?”
“I suppose that would be acceptable, now that you’re not going to sue me.”
“I was kidding about that.”
“I know.”
“But you kissed me anyway?”
She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and blushed. “Well, I felt guilty about the chair.”
Dan put his tongue into his cheek and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”
She dimpled, flashed her gaze upward to his, and then bent to pick up the broken chair. He should have helped her, but he stood mesmerized by the way her skirt pulled across her sweet little hips and highlighted the curves of the most perfect derriere he’d ever seen. It was a shameful waste that she sat on that, and covered it with suits, because it rivaled any ass he’d ever seen twirling around a pole. But it was the untouchable quality of it that mesmerized him.
There wasn’t a panty line on it, either, and Dan’s mouth went dry wondering if that meant what he thought it did.
Miss Manners, commando? Bare to the air? Oh, get a grip, Granger.
Unfortunately that was precisely what he wanted to do: get a good grip. Each of her little cheeks would fit nicely in the palm of his hand. He’d squeeze. He’d stroke. He’d caress and then trail his fingertips inward to brush her intimate folds.
Granger. Do you need to buy the latest issue of Playboy and lock yourself in a bathroom? Christ!
“I, uh. I can try to fix that for you,” he said, gesturing at the chair.
“That’s all right. I’ll take it to a furniture-maker. Are you sure you didn’t hurt your back? Your tailbone?”
“I’m fine. I’ve fallen off a lot of horses, and they tend to be taller than your average dining room chair. Plus a chair don’t drag you by a stirrup or kick you in the head on its way back to the barn.”
“Very true,” agreed Lilia. “They smell better, too.”
“You don’t like the smell of a good, sweaty horse? Mmmm. I love it. Raw and salty and musky. Pungent. Laced with saddle-leather and liniment.” The only smell that comes close is…sex. But he didn’t say it aloud. That might send Miss Manners right over the edge.
She was already staring at him as if he had three heads. “Dan, if you think horses smell good, may I enquire as to what you think smells bad?”
He thought for a second. “Those candle shops, the ones where the fakey-fruit and sickly cinnamon and vomit-vanilla scents all combine to blow the hair right off your head when you walk in the door. Now those places stink to high heaven. I’d rather shovel out a horse stall any day than have to spend two minutes in a place like that.”
Lilia laughed.
He loved it when she laughed: the sound was simultaneously throaty and musical. Her pointed little chin rose, her sleek black hair a shiny curtain along her smooth, pale neck.
Then there were the eyebrows. Lilia London had the most flawlessly groomed, dark, winged eyebrows he’d ever seen. They added to her untouchable look, yet also projected exoticism and a challenging sexuality.
He was curious about her reaction to the kiss. He’d expected her to be flustered by it, shocked, uncomfortable in his presence afterward. Frankly he’d thought that it would put an end to their session today. But it had been a risk he took willingly, just for a taste of her.
“You’re an unusual man, Dan,” she said. “Now, we have a lot to do in two weeks, so let’s set up a schedule. We should start analyzing your wardrobe and replacing items today. My partner Shannon is an image consultant and she will help with that. She’ll take your measurements, get your shoe size and go off shopping on her own. We’ll get a tailor in here to fit everything perfectly. But I want to take you to be fitted for at least one