by Joanna Shupe
“Then why do I feel ridiculous?”
“I haven’t a clue, but let’s call this one a draw. I feel like a masher and you feel ridiculous.”
“Nonsense. You never touched me against my will.”
“True, but I was attempting to flirt and caused you discomfort instead. It qualifies in my book.”
She blinked several times, waiting for the rest of the joke, but it never came. Was he serious? “You were flirting? With me?”
“Of course.” He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “A beautiful girl arrives to my room and I’m not yet dressed? Adding clothing to the equation is generally the last thing I’m considering.”
Ah. It wasn’t her. Any woman would qualify. “I see. Well, perhaps you’ll have better luck with the next girl who comes along.”
“Shit.” Frowning, he dragged a hand through his damp hair. “That wasn’t what I meant. I’m not flirting with anything in skirts, Alice. I meant you. Only you.”
“No need to spare my feelings.” She pushed off from the door, determined to put their relationship back to rights. Lessons, recipes, that was all. Anything else was impossible.
Kit darted in front of her, not touching her but still making it impossible to pass. “I am not sparing your feelings. How many more times must I mention your appeal before you believe me?”
“I assumed you were being charming, lying to make me feel better.”
“Then let me quickly dissuade you of that notion. I was not lying and I do find you attractive.”
Chapter Five
Kit watched Alice’s face as she absorbed his words. She really had no idea of her appeal—and after watching her interact with her mother, he was beginning to understand why.
Mrs. Lusk didn’t let Alice get a word in edgewise. She rolled over her daughter, as if Alice was of no consequence, treating her little better than a dog. Kit had seen the way Alice shrank in her chair this morning when her mother started talking. Hence why he’d interrupted their conversation, because he’d been desperate to see a little joie de vivre return to Alice’s expression.
He did feel badly about the dressing gown business. Alice was innocent and not up for his usual tricks. By teasing her in such a fashion, he’d disrespected her. Not wearing a collar was one thing; inviting her in while nearly naked was quite another.
More than anything else, he didn’t want to scare her away.
Finally, Alice’s shoulders relaxed and she gave him a tiny smile. “Shall we begin our lesson?”
Thank God. Relief cascaded through him and he gestured to the chairs. “After you.”
When they were settled across from each other, she pointed to the bed. “I put the recipe for poulardes à la Portugaise on the coverlet.”
“Excellent. That is Preston’s favorite.”
“I agree, it is delicious. However, tell your chef not to rush the steps. Time is required for the flavors to develop.”
He arched a brow. “It almost sounds as if you’ve prepared the dish yourself.”
“Me? No, of course not. But I have watched Angelo make it many times.”
She was lying. Memorizing the recipes? Offering tips on the preparation? When he combined that with her excitement over lobster thermidor, he was certain Alice did more than observe Angelo. He smoothed his trousers and affected a casual tone. “You must be a quick study. When I was in Paris, I tried to learn how to make a béchamel sauce and I ended up scalding the milk every time. By the fifth batch, they told me to give up.”
She chuckled. “The first time I attempted a béarnaise, the bain-marie was too hot—”
Horror filled her expression, and they stared at each other for a long moment. While he felt victorious, he sensed there was a reason Alice had lied. So if she wasn’t ready to confide in him, he wouldn’t press.
She seemed to collect herself, bit by bit, her armor rebuilding as the seconds ticked by. “Angelo tries to teach me every now and again, though I am terrible at everything.”
He doubted it. She was smart, observant and clearly loved food. If he had to guess, he would say she was probably quite competent in the kitchen. However, he’d already pushed her enough today by answering the door in his dressing gown. He needed these lessons to continue as much as she did, and offending her was not the way to collect Franconi’s recipes.
He adopted his most charming grin. “It is nice to have friends who are willing to teach you.”
“Yes, it certainly is.” Her eyes flicked to his mouth for the briefest of seconds before returning to meet his gaze.
Well, well. That couldn’t have been more obvious. Was his pupil considering another type of lesson, one that involved lips, teeth and tongues?
That suited him just fine. Last night had been altogether too personal from his point of view. He was not interested in spilling secrets or having his choices dissected again.
Your expectations seem very high.
Resting his elbows on the armrests, he steepled his fingers. “Let’s skip the questions today. I think we should focus on practical examples, rather than theoretical.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning real-world experience. Not merely information.”
“Like the hand-holding?”
“Exactly.” The possibilities were endless, but they should start with the basics. “I assume you know how to dance, so what about flirting?”
Her brows lowered, her gaze suspicious. “You can teach me to flirt?”
In his sleep. “Of course. I am quite proficient at it—and a woman or two has flirted with me over the years.”
“I bet. Does it work?”
“Depends on what you consider success, but generally yes.” He edged forward, more eager than he cared to admit. “So, would you like to learn how to flirt with a man?”
“I suppose I should, if I want to attract the right husband.”
“That’s the spirit. First things first, flirting begins with the eyes. Watch.” He stared directly into her eyes for a shade longer than polite, then looked away. Then he did it again, talking her through. “Meet his gaze and hold it so there can be no mistake. He needs to know you are looking just at him. Then before it becomes impolite, shift your eyes elsewhere.”
“Won’t it bother him, thinking that I am staring at him?”
“No, and if it does, you certainly don’t want to marry him.”
“Good point.”
“Now you try.” He encouraged her with a flick of his fingers.
She focused on the wall, then exhaled and cleared her throat. Turning her head, she locked eyes with him for a long minute before looking away.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now, the next step is to angle your body in the direction of the person with whom you are flirting.”
“Like, move toward them?”
“No, not necessarily.” He shifted to the right and looked at her from over his shoulder. “Instead of staring like this, turn your body”—he slid until he directly faced her—“to give him every bit of your attention.”
She adjusted her limbs and angled closer to him.
“You may also lean in,” he said. “Ever so slightly. Like you want to get closer, but you don’t know if you should.”
She bent nearer and he caught a hint of vanilla and spice. Very nice. “Excellent. The last bit is a tad advanced, for when you know you have the right man in mind. Ready?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
“Do everything I’ve mentioned and before you look away bite your lip.” He demonstrated once. “Now put it all together and show me.”
Taking a deep breath, she shook out her shoulders, like a prizefighter loosening up before a fight. She was adorable and he had to struggle to keep from smiling.
First, she angled toward him, then found his gaze and held it, luring him into the soft chestnut depths. He held perfectly still, not minding this experiment in the least. Had he ever noticed how unique her eyes were? Her irises were light and dark, greenish g
old and brown, now shining in the midmorning light. She eased in a tiny bit closer and there was that scent again, as if she’d just come from baking in the kitchen. Was that a perfume? If so, he needed to purchase it for all his future mistresses.
When the stare lingered a shade longer than normal, she slipped her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on the plump flesh, drawing attention to her mouth. He knew she was merely following directions, that this was not for his benefit, but a spark raced along his spine all the same. Now he was thinking about kissing her, wondering what that mouth would taste like on his own and if her lips were as soft as they appeared. If he moved a tiny bit closer to her . . .
She looked down at her hands and the moment passed. Kit blinked a few times to clear his head. Arousal simmered in his gut, his mind racing with prurient possibilities.
Christ, she was a quick study. And he was in trouble.
Throat dry, he stood and crossed to the sideboard, intending to pour himself a drink despite the early hour. He needn’t be sober for an afternoon of croquet.
“How did I do?” she asked, a tremble of uncertainty in her voice.
He couldn’t lie, not about this. Not to her. “I think you’ve mastered it. If that had been real, I would have dragged you off to a secluded spot and kissed you already.”
“Really?”
Carrying his drink back to his chair, he toasted her with his glass as he sat. “Indeed. Well done, Alice.”
As if she’d never heard a compliment before, her lips twisted into a stunning smile, transforming her into an enchantress. A siren. A goddess among lowly mortals. Men would wage wars for a smile like that. In fact, Kit was tempted to continue praising her just to keep that look on her face.
“Thank you,” she said. “I am curious, though. How do men do it?”
Wait, what were they talking about? Her smile had derailed him. “Do what?”
“Flirt with women.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to gather his wits. “You want me to show you how I flirt?”
“Yes, please. That way, I’ll know when a man is doing it to me—that is, if it ever happens.”
“You may already check that box. I have flirted with you many times.”
“The dressing gown.”
“That, and other things.” He’d touched her cheek and dragged her behind a bush to hold her hand. Ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes in that blasted egg hunt so she would win one of the prizes.
“Prove it. Flirt with me so I know what it looks like.”
“I don’t attend society events, so I’m not certain my skills are applicable.” He was more likely to flirt with an actress or chorus girl, encounters which tended to skew toward direct.
“Fine, I’ll play. You see a woman at a nonsociety party. What do you do?”
Stubborn woman. She wanted to see him at his best? Fine. He smirked and said, “Just remember, I’m not responsible for whatever happens after this demonstration.” He put his drink on the side table and rubbed his hands together.
Offering up a lazy smile, he pitched his voice low. “Hello, miss. Have we been introduced? My friends call me Kit.”
She folded her arms across her chest, expression unchanged. “My name is Alice.”
“Hello, Alice.” Her name rolled off his tongue in a sensuous caress. He slowly dragged his gaze over her neck, her chest, then back to her eyes. “May I get you a drink? Some champagne, perhaps.”
“No, thank you.”
He leaned in. “Your eyes are beautiful. I’ve never seen any quite like them, with the hints of green and gold between the dark brown.” All true, but she did not seem impressed.
“Hmm,” was all she said.
This wasn’t going as it usually did, so he picked up his drink and took a long sip, watching her over the rim the whole time. When he finished, he licked his lips while staring at her mouth.
She arched a single brow, her mouth flat. Unwilling to concede defeat just yet, he barely brushed her arm with his fingertips. “Have you seen the gardens? I hear they’re quite lovely at this time of year.”
Instead of blushing or giggling, she sighed.
Sitting back, he frowned. This made no sense. These methods were tried and true, honed over years of engaging with the opposite sex. One or two had worked countless times. Putting all of them together was almost a guarantee—yet Alice had practically yawned. Where had he gone wrong?
“Is there more?” she asked. “Or is that it?”
He truly used these tricks to get women into bed? Alice shook her head. Perhaps Kit didn’t know as much about women as he thought.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “You didn’t like any of that?”
“To be honest, no. It made me uncomfortable.”
His eyes widened. “Uncomfortable? How?”
This was hard to put into words. But it was clear the real Kit hadn’t been flirting with her, not the man she’d come to know over the past two days. She wanted him, the sensitive one who hid his true feelings underneath all that charm. “Just everything. It was too . . . invasive. And artificial.”
“Artificial? Invasive? I was complimenting you and offering to fetch you a drink.”
She lifted her shoulders. “I didn’t care for it.”
“How was any of that artificial? You do have beautiful eyes and the gardens are probably lovely right now.”
“I don’t know. I just . . . That wasn’t you. That was some other man, one who didn’t care about getting to know me. You stared at me like a piece of meat.”
A strangled noise escaped his throat and his skin turned a dull red. Had she embarrassed him? “I’ll have you know,” he snapped, “that some women like to be stared at intently, as if a man is undressing her with his eyes.”
“A woman you just met? How unpleasant.” She covered her mouth. Had she really just said that?
Now he’ll never give you another lesson. Brava, Alice.
“I can’t believe this.” He shot up out of his chair and returned to the sideboard for a refill. “You are lecturing me? Me? I am not the one who needed lessons in flirting. I have flirted with countless women since the age of fourteen!”
Now she’d stepped in it.
Before he could kick her out and never speak to her again, she rushed to explain. “Kit, it’s me. I’m certain your . . . skills are quite successful with every other woman on earth. I already told you, I’m defective in this area. Don’t listen to my opinion.”
His glass was full when he sat back down. “Tell me, then. What does work with you? If I wanted to flirt with Alice Lusk, what must I do to succeed?”
She shifted in her chair and contemplated an answer. Why didn’t I fake a reaction? Then she could have avoided this embarrassing conversation. “I suppose I know you too well. I’m not fooled by this false flattery and adopted charm. Honestly, I find you most attractive when you are being honest.”
“I have never lied to you, Alice.”
Didn’t he see the difference? “No, but you don’t reveal much of your real self, do you? Not like when you told me what you find attractive in a woman.”
He took a long swallow of the light brown spirits. “Why are we dissecting me once again? This is supposed to be about you.”
Indeed, he was right. For some reason, she kept digging and poking, trying to understand him better. But to what end? He was helping her in exchange for recipes. They weren’t friends—or potential lovers—so she needed to be more respectful. Needed to keep her thoughts to herself, as she did with her mother. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said any of that. Thank you for the lesson today.”
When she started to rise, he held out a hand. “Wait. Let’s go back to what would work with you.”
“Why?” He honestly wished to flirt with her? And needed her advice on how to do it?
“Call it a challenge to my skills. I’d like the chance to redeem myself.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What do you find attractive about me? If I wanted you to kiss me, what would compel you to do it?”
She held her breath, her mind tripping over his request. Was he serious? Hadn’t they already established her lack of expertise on this subject? Still, he seemed curious, his gaze eager. She had to say something. “Kit, this is highly improper—”
“Fuck proper. Everything we are doing is improper.” His lips tightened, his jaw turning hard. “Please, just answer. What do you find appealing about me?”
“Your looks, obviously.” She gestured to his face and body.
His head turned and he stared at the wall, a muscle jumping in his cheek. She sensed her answer upset him, but hadn’t a clue as to why. Was he ashamed of his appearance? No, that didn’t make any sense. They had discussed his handsomeness before and he hadn’t minded.
“That’s it?” he asked. “Nothing other than how I look?”
Oh, he wished for her to elucidate.
Wouldn’t you hate to be nothing more than a pretty face?
Yes, she would. No one, save Kit, had ever complimented her looks, but Alice could sympathize with being judged for what was on the surface. After all, most people took one glance at her and decided she was shy and boring. Not many had tried to actually get to know her.
He watched her carefully and she realized this mattered to him. So she cleared her throat and scooted closer, their knees almost touching, her eyes squarely on his chest. “I like how you put people at ease. You make everyone around you feel important, as if they matter, because they have your attention. You’re observant. Not only do you listen and ask questions, but you remember the answers.” He didn’t move or speak, so she dragged in a breath and kept going. “You’re kind. You could have ditched me for the egg hunt, but you didn’t, and I’ve seen you assist the older chaperones when you didn’t have to. And no doubt you had far more exciting places to be this weekend, but you came to support Maddie and Mr. Archer. That tells me you are loyal to those you care about.”
His shoulders rose and fell with his breath, but he still didn’t react, his gaze remaining on the wall. Did he hate her answers? She kept talking, hoping to prove her point. “In order for me to kiss you, I would want more of the man from last night, the truthful one who told me what he likes without shame, without artifice. The man who showed his genuine self for a moment. I would rather kiss him than the scoundrel who doesn’t mean a word of what he says.”