Annie swallowed. Were they going to make love right now? All signs pointed in that direction. Sinclair’s eyes were closed, and his hands roamed over her body. Her skin stirred and sizzled under his touch. She felt the curve of his strong cheekbones and kissed him gently on the lips. How could such an ordinary day take such a wonderful and extraordinary turn? Maybe it was something to do with the mysterious cup.
Or was it the curse?
A dark shard of doubt cooled her skin like a sudden draft from a window. This man was her boss. On the other hand, the train had left the station. They stood naked in the fourth guest bedroom, the crumpled remains of their clothes at their feet. It was already too late to turn back and pretend that nothing had happened.
And she wanted nothing more than to take this surprising intimacy even further. She wondered if she should tell him she was already protected by the IUD she wore to ease her painful periods? She didn’t want to spoil the delicious moment, so instead she kissed him again on the mouth.
“Annie,” he groaned. “Oh, Annie.” She almost exploded at the sound of her name on his lips. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Her body ached to mesh with his and soon they were on the bed, him entering her with exquisite tenderness, while feathering kisses over her lips and groaning with unconcealed pleasure.
Annie wasn’t a virgin. She wasn’t all that far from being one, but she had some idea what sex was all about. Still, she’d never experienced anything like the intense sensations that rocked her body. Sinclair’s fingertips pressed into her flesh as his mouth claimed her, licking and biting her with abandon until she gasped and squealed with pleasure.
She’d never imagined Sinclair having such an uninhibited side. He always seemed so straitlaced and conservative.
Sinclair moved with deft prowess, skilled at taking her to new heights of pleasure, and keeping her there until she was ready to burst into flames, then shifting position for an entirely new approach to ultimate sexual bliss. To see—and feel—him breathless with excitement and driven by obvious hunger for her, almost drove her insane with pleasure.
“Oh, Annie.” Again he murmured her name, licking her lips and burying himself so deep she thought they’d become one.
“Oh, Sin.” She’d imagined calling him that, fantasized about it being her pet name for him like he was some duke from one of her favorite novels. To hear the affectionate abbreviation on her lips, for it to sound so natural in the air, almost made her laugh with pleasure.
Sin. Surely that’s what this was. But it felt so good it couldn’t be entirely wrong. Sinclair claimed her mouth with a powerful kiss and her body burst into a convulsion of pleasure that left her shivering and gripping him.
Goodness. She’d never experienced that before. It must be the famous orgasm magazines loved to rave about. Sinclair released a deep, shuddering groan and fell against her, gasping for breath. Then, without a pause, he rolled them both over until she was on top and held her there, his arms fast around her and his eyelids shut tight.
“Damn,” he said at last. “Damn.”
Sinclair wrapped his arms tightly around his lovely companion. Her strawberry-blond hair fell across his face. Her pretty, pale blue eyes looked at him shyly behind long lashes. He kissed her mouth again, her lips so soft and wet.
The sense of relief was extraordinary. Apparently going through his second divorce could set a man way off balance. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed and at peace. He leaned forward and nuzzled her soft skin, with its pretty freckles. “You’re a miracle,” he whispered in her ear. Her cheek plumped against his as her lips formed a smile. The blissful weight of her body on his pushed him against the soft mattress, trapping him in the aftermath of such sweet pleasure.
He let out a long, deep sigh. Sometimes life could be so complicated, and you just needed to get back to basics. He let his fingers play in the silky red-gold hair waving softly about her cheeks.
“That was unexpected.” Her voice sounded like music.
“Yes.” His brain was too fogged for conversation. “And wonderful.”
“It was. Though I hope my pot roast is okay. I totally lost track of the time.”
Pot roast? Sinclair managed to find his wrist somewhere underneath her soft back and pulled it reluctantly out. “It’s nearly five.”
Sinclair’s muscles were tensing up all over. Five in the afternoon. Pot roast overcooking somewhere. Present-day reality crept, unwelcome, into his mind. This delicious sylph in his arms was not a pre-Raphaelite fantasy maiden come out of the mists to entertain him.
She was his longtime housekeeper, Annie Sullivan.
“What’s the matter?” Her soft voice filled with concern.
His stomach tightened as he lifted his arms from her. Had he really kissed her on the lips and pulled her into bed with him? His mind swam. He must have been in a psychosis of lust. His friends had warned him that going without sex for too long could do crazy things to a man’s brain.
And now he was naked, sweaty and breathless, weighed down by the unexpectedly curvaceous body of the woman who polished his silver.
His head crashed against the pillow. In a way this was very stereotypical. Just the kind of thing his unsavory ancestors probably did with their staff. Another damning proof that he was no better than all the lying, cheating, philandering Drummonds who came before him.
Annie had noticed his change of mood. She, too, had stiffened and now pulled away, moving off him and to the side, with the snowy matelassé coverlet wrapped around her. Sinclair tugged the sheet up over his exposed flesh.
It was his fault, of course. “I’m so sorry.”
Annie’s cheeks were stained with red. She tucked her tresses behind tiny pink ears. He burned with shame that he’d taken such a good woman to bed without, seemingly, a moment’s hesitation.
“Honestly, I’m not sure what came over me.” Still reeling, he sat up and held his head for a moment. Was he in the grip of madness? Perhaps the same tropical malady that kept his mother in a delirium for nearly a week?
Contraception. The grim thought stabbed at his already pounding brain. “I don’t suppose you’re … on the pill.” The unromantic utterance hung in the air like a poisonous cloud.
“Not the pill, but something similar. I won’t get pregnant.” Her silvery voice had shriveled to a tinkle. She climbed from the bed, back to him, still holding the coverlet about her naked body.
And what a body. He had no idea Annie was hiding such lush and inviting curves below her staid Oxford shirts and loose khakis. Desire snuck through him again, hot and unwelcome, and he pulled the sheet higher over his chest.
Annie had already tugged her rumpled shirt and khakis back on, and buttoned them with urgent fingers. He averted his eyes, cursing the demon of lust that had led him so badly astray. He’d better start exercising more regularly, and taking cold showers, to make sure nothing like this happened again. It was bad enough to be unprofessional in his own house, but what next, would he sleep with his administrative assistant, or the office receptionist?
A hushed curse escaped his lips, and Annie flinched. He startled, now aware that he’d added insult to injury. “I was cursing myself. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Me, neither,” she muttered, tucking her shirt in. She picked up the blue dress from the floor, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll hang this in the closet.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Her lush body once again hidden under