Page 102 of For a Scot's Heart Only
“There’s no need. It’s fresh on my mind as are other... places.”
The saucy wench.
“Then you’ll agree our verbal contract needs further negotiation.”
“Because you decided it?” She was walking backward, her lips suppressing a smile while he followed.
“You have your plans for our business arrangement. I have mine.”
“I can’t argue with that logic. Both parties must besatisfied,” she said, then promptly shook her head as though she couldn’t believe her own flagrant innuendo.
“I’m glad you agree, Miss Fletcher.”
Their footfalls pattered faster. Mary was biting her lower lip, rounding the table backward.
“And what did you have in mind, sir?”
His steps deliberate, he honed on her lush lip which she nibbled so enticingly. “I have certain needs.”
“Please explain.”
Mary’s bodice rose and fell, a noticeable rhythm in their careful chase around her workroom table.
“Our thirty-day contract has very stingy time allowances,” he said.
“Stingy, is it?” She arched a brow, holding his gaze. “What do you suggest?”
“Spend more than the allotted three hours with me. Daytime work, if you will.”
“The two of us, working together?” Her smile was splendid and bright. “Considering our respective businesses, how will our new commerce fit?”
“Oh, it fits very well, Miss Fletcher.”
Though she rolled her eyes at his quip, her smile deepened. He was close to catching her. A kiss, a touch... something would happen.
“That’s quite a lot to ask, sir,” she said. “As I recall, our last meeting didn’t entirely satisfy all my requirements.”
“You weren’t satisfied?” Now, that surprised him.
She shook her head fast, causing that blasted curl to dance prettily. “Not completely. Certain elements were missing, while I delivered splendidly.”
Laughter shot out of him. “Indeed, Miss Fletcher. You did.”
Mary’s life vein pulsed noticeably on her neck. He’d kiss that tiny throb just to see if he could make it race faster. He knew a place in the crook of her thighs that made her pulse gallop.
She surprised him, ducking into a smaller room off her workroom. An alcove of sorts blocked by a heavier curtain. One brick wall was charred as though it had caught fire. He backed her into a corner and braced his arm on the wall near her head.
“Now, what is this about something missing.”
She tipped her face to his, her eyes liquid with unspent lust.
“My story—you never finished it.”
He was gentle, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck. “Is that your only complaint?”
She arched her neck and grabbed his waistcoat with desperate fingers. “Yes.”
Mary speared his heart with Cupid’s arrow. The ache in her voice was sweet. He nuzzled her cheek, her smell driving him mad. She was unscented soap and hints of starch, washing him clean. If Mary wanted this to end, this was the moment.
