Page 55 of Dangerous Devotion

Did she imagine that Simpson’s attention stayed on AJ when he offered them a drink? Back at the ball, both of them had only pretended to drink. Now there didn’t seem to be any getting out of it.

“I’d love one, thanks.” AJ’s carefree tone clued her in about the direction to take her role.

She relaxed and replied with enthusiasm that she could use a drink as well. She wasn’t lying either. A sip or three of alcohol would soothe her rattling nerves.

Once they had martinis in hand—shaken, not stirred—Simpson sank into an enormous leather armchair. May took the sofa across from him while AJ walked around the room, pretending to peruse the shelves of books that lined one entire wall.

May looked around. Everything about the major general’s homeoozedmoney.

She struck up a conversation, offering a couple stories about her father and uncle she hoped would put the man more at ease. He engaged in the discussion with his old, familiar warmth.

She only prayed she distracted him from AJ’s movements. His back was to them as he faced the bookcase full of books and trinkets. May was careful to keep her eyes off him. Now wasnotthe time to enjoy the view of his broad shoulders and carved planes of his back.

Or his ass…

Using his index finger, he drew a book off the shelf and turned the leatherbound volume over in his hands to read the cover.

“Do you read?” Simpson called out, including AJ in the conversation.

Or distracting him from planting that bug?

AJ half turned, a smile fixed on his rugged features. “Icanread.”

They shared a laugh that sounded too forced to her ears as his little joke fell flat.

She jumped in by directing her attention to the floor. “What is this flooring, Shaw? It’s absolutely amazing.”

He turned his focus from AJ, who was still browsing the bookshelf, to what she guessed to be imported Italian flooring.

She was right.

She didn’t want to be right.

As Simpson gave her details about how he chose the flooring himself, she widened the scope of her attention to the rest of the space.

The place wasfilledwith antiques and art.

She set aside her martini on a low table and got up, drifting toward a gallery wall filled with oil paintings. Thoughshe pretended to be engrossed in the subject matter, it was the signatures she took the most interest in.

Her mind started reeling. But the paintings were nothing compared to what else the major general had in his collection.

When she strolled to a wooden pedestal that held a single sculpture in a place of importance, she almost choked on the bile rushing up her throat.

From the corner of her eye, she saw AJ lean close to the shelving, absorbed in his inspection of a modern sculpture comprised of carved links of a chain.

“Darling,” she called out softly.

AJ turned.

She smiled at him. “What do you think of that sculpture? Don’t tell me you want one for your study at home.” She threw an amused look at Simpson.

Returning her smile, AJ wandered over to her side. “I have a love for fine things.” He took her shoulders in his hands and stared deep into her eyes.

At first, she thought he might be playacting for Simpson’s sake, but then she caught the glimmer in the depths of those bright blue eyes—the same gleam she’d seen when he was moving inside her.

Simpson cleared his throat, breaking into their moment. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to sit down with some good food and great company.”

Together, she and AJ swung to face their host. The man they were spying on.

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