Page 24 of Marcel

“No.”Shaking his head, he stood looking at her as she slid onto the paddedstool. He watched as she unpinned the large twists she had done herhair in and started to untwine them. “I am running late.”

“The bathroomis all yours,” she reminded him. But he continued to standthere as if rooted to the spot.

“Marcel?”

“What?”

“Is everythingokay?”

No! He wanted toshout. I am being inexplicably drawn to you and don’t know howlong I can hold out.

Instead, he shook hishead and forced a smile. “Yes. I have to.” He lifted onehand and gestured toward the bathroom. “I have to go and take ashower.”

She nodded, staringafter him curiously before looking at her reflection in the mirror.

Stepping into thebathroom was another source of torture for him. She had used thebath, and the steam was still rising out of the tub, the scent ofraspberry permeating the air. Her toothbrush was left on her side ofthe sink, and the mirror was smeared.

Shaking his head athow messy she was, he stripped off his clothes and dumped them insidethe hamper. She had shed her thin, wispy, dark blue silk nightgownbeside the hamper. He would have to increase the housekeeper’swages because of his wife's extra work.

Stepping into theshower install, he showered quickly to try to get out of there andinto the office. Being so close to her was driving him crazy. He hadjust stepped into the bedroom when he stopped and stared, his hearthammering inside his chest.

She was wearingplum-colored lace underwear. Her face was lightly made up; her hairbrushed ruthlessly back into a neat chignon at the nape of her neck.And she was so unbelievably sexy that he felt himself hardening.

“What do youthink?” She had disappeared into the closet and returned,holding up a chic-looking raspberry pink dress with a short raspberryand white jacket and a teal blue pantsuit with a fitted jacket.

“Pardon?”

“Yourpreference, Marcel.” There was a note of impatience in hercultured voice as she stared at him. She was standing directly beforehim, and he was aware of the flesh protruding over the delicate lace.

Her stomach was flat,and- snapping his eyes back up to her face, he wondered how he wasstill standing when his legs felt as weak as a damn kitten.

“I- er- theraspberry.”

“Why?”

He blinked at her. “Idon’t understand.”

“Why theraspberry?” She asked slowly as if she was talking to atwo-year-old.

“Um - I - it’sbeautiful.”

“And it’snew.” Stepping back into the closet and giving him a reprieve,she called out. “I called Monique last night and spoke to her.She will be sending some things over sometime today. I must donatesome of these to the Goodwill store to make space.”

To his acute relief,he realized she was getting dressed inside the closet.

Taking advantage ofthat, he hurriedly dragged off the towel and went to the drawers toput on underwear and a T-shirt. But he realized he would have toenter the closet to get dressed.

Dragging his fingersthrough his damp hair, he shook himself and moved purposefullytowards the room. He was brought up short again when he witnessed herslipping into the dress.

His eyes met hers inthe full-length Cheval mirror.

“Perfecttiming. Can you zip me up, please?”

Walking heavilytoward her, he sucked in his breath and eased the zipper up, doinghis best to avoid looking at the soft skin and the insane need tokiss the back of her neck.

“There.”His voice was brisk, and with his breath strangling inside histhroat, he stepped over to his side to pick out a suit. His heartjolted when she stepped over. Plucking the ash-gray suit from hishand, she chose one in dark blue instead and selected a teal blueshirt to go with it.

“What? No tie?”He asked mockingly.

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