Page 178 of Once an Angel
As Justin ducked beneath the lintel, Emily realized with horror that she was still clutching his journal.
She shoved it under the blankets, faking a tremendous yawn.
"Hello, Emily," he said, his voice notably devoid of warmth.
She bit her tongue to keep from blurting outHello, Homer. "Good evening, Mr. Connor."
He gazed around the hut. "Where's Penfeld?"
She folded her hands in her lap. "He went out to pick some mint."
Justin lifted an edge of the stained linen tablecloth and peered beneath. "You sure you don't have him trussed up somewhere?"
She flashed a deliberate dimple. "Why, Mr. Connor, you flatter me."
He drew off the watch and laid it on the table.
"Beautiful workmanship," she murmured, hoping his face might betray something.
"Pity I don't have a waistcoat pocket to keep it in. I have to wear it around my neck like a woman."
One would have to be blind, deaf, and comatose to mistake him for a member of that fairer sex, Emily thought as he dipped into the wash bucket and poured handfuls of water over his flushed face. Sparkling drops caught in the dark filaments of hair along his forearms. An errant trickle eased down his muscled abdomen and disappeared into the low-slung waistband of his dungarees.
She swallowed, wishing for even a drop of tea to wet her throat.
He turned toward the door. "Tell Penfeld I went down to the beach."
It was all Emily could do to keep from scrambling to her feet. She would have gone to the beach with Lucifer himself to escape the stifling confines of the hut.
"Take me," she blurted out.
Her innocent plea stopped Justin in his tracks. She would be gone in a few days, he reminded himself, and then he could resume the orderly tempo of his life. All he had to do was turn around and tell her
he wasn't interested in her company.
He turned around. Her ardent brown eyes sparkled up at him. "Penfeld's coat is due for a washing.
We might as well wash it with me in it."
Justin ruffled his hair. She lowered her lashes, obviously bracing herself for his refusal.
"I have only one question, young lady," he said sternly, bending over her.
"What?" Emily replied, biting her lower lip. To her embarrassment, genuine tears of disappointment
stung her eyes.
She gasped as he caught her under the knees and shoulders and swept her into his arms, bringing her
nose to nose with him. "What if Penfeld should decide toironthe coat with you in it?"
She giggled. "It wouldn't be the first time I'd been ironed. My teachers used to sit on me and iron my hair."
His gaze softened. He raked his fingers through her mop of curls, mesmerizing her with his tenderness. "What a crime."
* * *
As they started down the short, sandy path to the beach, Emily threw an arm around Justin's neck.
