The Viscount & The Virgin by Valerie Parv

Author:Valerie Parv
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

He watched her move around the kitchen with the ease and grace of a dancer. She gestured toward two stools pulled up to a breakfast bar. “Have a seat. Would you like coffee or tea?”

Say no, invent some question she could answer, then leave, he ordered himself. He couldn’t seem to make his legs obey. Accustomed to being in command of any situation, he felt shaken at how completely she had gained the upper hand, even if she didn’t know it. “Coffee, thanks.”

She opened a cupboard door. “How do you like it?”

“Black, one sugar, same as yours.”

She frowned. “How do you know how I like my coffee?” In the office, one of the staff usually made it for them.

He hooked a leg over a stool, keeping the other leg on the floor, remembering the first time he had made coffee for her, remembering carrying it to a sleeping beauty he had woken in the time-honored way. The memory triggered a tidal wave of desire he had to struggle to control. “Two words—new shoes.”

Kirsten frowned as the recollection rushed back. He meant the day she had foolishly worn a new pair of high heels to work and barely been able to walk home. She had fallen asleep in a chair and dreamed that he had kissed her. Striving to sound more offhand than she felt, she said, “Oh, that.”

“Do you still wear them?”

“Not since the day you arrived. Too uncomfortable.” Not only the shoes, but the reminder of her first encounter with him, she thought. He had worn an impeccably tailored business suit then. Now, in jeans and a checked shirt, he looked even more attractive. Suddenly, inviting him in seemed like playing with fire. It wouldn’t help her keep their relationship on a business footing, and she didn’t want anything else, did she?

He had looked lost waiting on her front porch, she decided. The curl falling onto his forehead reminded her so much of Jeffrey that he wakened all her mothering instincts.

“More flying pig?” she imagined Shara asking. All right, so the way Kirsten felt seeing him on her doorstep was a long way from motherly. It didn’t mean she had to give in to it. Hadn’t she learned anything from her sister’s experience?

She made the coffee, welcoming the diversion while she got her tumultuous thoughts in order. They would have coffee, resolve whatever problem had brought him to her door, then she would let him leave.

She picked up her cup. “We’ll be more comfortable in the living room.”

He inspected the samples of Jeffrey’s art covering the refrigerator, the effect cozy and familiar. “I’m comfortable right here.”

She wasn’t. Sharing the breakfast bar with Jeffrey was one thing, but touching thighs with Rowe in the limited space was quite another. She remained standing and sipped her coffee, wincing as it burned her tongue. “What do you want to see me about?”

He glanced at the empty stool beside him, as if well aware of what was in her mind. “I could make something up, but the truth is, I couldn’t get much work done for thinking about you.

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