It was all he could do to keep himself from pausing in the narrow doorway, his body filling almost the entire space remaining there. How easy it would be, he thought, to turn to her, press her up against that door, and—“Please don’t let me keep you,” he heard himself say, his tone so perfectly modulated when he felt anything but, he had no idea how he managed it. “I’m sure you must be uncomfortable.” Lord knew he was. He shifted past her, part of him hoping she didn’t notice the state he was in ... and another tiny part of him wishing she would. What would she do if she knew the effect she was having on him? How would she react if she had so much as an inkling as to the thoughts that were running through his supposed you’ve-been-nothing-but-kind mind?
She smiled, her laugh self-deprecating this time and every bit as endearing. “Yes, there is a bit of a chill.”
Maybe for her, he thought, feeling increasingly reckless, torn between being the gentleman he’d been born and bred to be ... and the man who found his gaze drawn immediately to the front of her sundress, wanting to know just how chilled she was and uncaring what she thought of his less-than-polite perusal. He was leaning dangerously toward being the man who, when discovering her nipples were pressed hard against the thin cotton of her sundress, wanted to take them in his mouth and make sure their erect, tightly budded tips remained that way because of him, and not some aftereffect of spilled ale.
Why there was this need to claim her in some way, to make his mark on her, to feel this need to possess—Christ. He abruptly swung around and pretended to look around her second-floor flat. It was much smaller than Brodie’s, whose flat took up the entire second floor over the far more spacious pub. Having never been up here during the time Maude had owned the shop, Reese had no idea if Daisy had made her own imprint on it or kept it the way it had been decorated before. He didn’t know her well enough to have any sense of what her style might be, or if the somewhat overdone theme of morning glories and lavender truly suited her. Somehow he didn’t think so. “How are you faring here?” he asked, striving almost desperately for byplay that felt even close to normal. “You feel settled yet?”
“Mostly,” she said, clearly no longer standing right behind him.
He turned to find her crossing the narrow living room area, which butted up with the kitchen nook that faced the rear of the building, heading to the only other door. Presumably that led to her bedroom. He resolutely refused to let himself imagine what it looked like. Hopefully like something an old maiden aunt would sleep in, if there was any mercy in the world. And yet, unbidden came the images of him tossing her straight on her back amidst chenille morning glories and lavender-scented pillows ... and he was having no problem whatsoever being exceedingly turned on by the prospect. Maiden aunt be damned.
“I’ve spent most of my time focusing on learning how Maude handled the shop and deciding how best to start up my own business ideas. But eventually I’ll work on making this my space up here. It’s homey enough, but ...” She let her words trail off as she opened the door.
Reese had a quick glimpse beyond, enough to note the walls were a pale lemon yellow, but couldn’t see the bed or the spread across it. Not that his imagination required such actual facts.
“I’ll be out in a moment.” She waved a hand toward the settee and the one overstuffed chair and ottoman that comprised the living room arrangement. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
He was nodding agreeably, intending to do as asked, and yet his mouth opened and out came, “Are you sure you don’t need a hand?”
This time she didn’t brush off the offer with an innocent smile and a wave. Maybe because this time his offer hadn’t sounded so innocent. But she didn’t look annoyed—or worse, alarmed, either. She looked ... well, confused, actually. Her gaze remained on his for a long, silent moment, as if she was trying to decide exactly what he was offering. And then she’d be annoyed or alarmed, most likely.
He should just brush it off, as he’d done before. She looked at him as a potential client, nothing more. Which was exactly when he realized what he wanted. He wanted her to look at him as if he had the potential to be more than a harmless business contact. He wanted her to look at him with the same intent and interest he was fairly certain she saw on his face this very moment.
“I ...” She started, stopped. And the disconcertment on her face shifted a little as he continued to hold her gaze.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked her, unaware the question was coming until he’d given voice to it.
She went more still, if that was possible, but she’d yet to look alarmed in any way. “Okay.”
“It’s rather awkward, but I’d appreciate a straightforward response. And this is an aside to any business talk we have. I’m—there’s just something I’m curious about, man to woman.”
She frowned now, wary but clearly curious. “Okay,” she said again.
“Before, down in the foyer, when you invited me up, you made it clear I don’t make you feel threatened in any way.” He quickly lifted a hand. “Which is good. I don’t want you to ever feel alarmed in my presence, as you have no reason to be.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, then followed with, “but?”
He took a step closer without thinking, needing to see her eyes more clearly, and at a closer range. She could say anything, but the eyes always gave a person’s true feelings away. At least he’d found that to be true in business. One assumed it held true in other situations. “I suppose I always fancied the idea—much as any bloke would, I guess—that, given the right circumstances, I could make a woman nervous ... in a good way.”
She held her ground. Her expression remained smooth. But her pupils dilated a bit.
Encouraged, he moved closer. “According to my brother, I’m far too much a gentleman, far too much of the time. And he likely has a point. It’s just ... I’m rarely provoked to be anything other than one.”
He stopped a foot away from her. Her pupils had all but swallowed up the green of her eyes. And her nipples were still quite pointedly pronounced ... whether from still being trapped in a wet dress, or because of his proximity, he had no idea. But he was going with the latter. He needed all the support he could get.
“So, what—” She paused to clear her throat, her voice having gone slightly hoarse. “What, exactly, is your question?”
He’d come this far. No point in sticking to hypotheticals now. “From the moment you walked into my office a fortnight ago, you’ve left me feeling somewhat ... provoked.”
Her eyes widened and her throat worked, making him want to press his lips to the side of her neck. He pushed on, knowing he’d never pursue this particular line of questioning with her again, if not now.
“Which I’m certain puts me in rather crowded company, as you’ve managed to turn a number of heads here.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly and he’d thought it impossible for her to be any more beautiful. Or arousing. He’d been wrong.
“But it occurs to me now ... that perhaps it wouldn’t matter if I was provoked or not. Maybe women simply don’t see me as anything other than a nice, polite chap who—”
She surprised him—shocked him silent, actually—by bursting out with a shout of laughter, then quickly clamping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, though it was clear she was anything but. “I wasn’t laughing at you—I was laughing because ... are you kidding me?”
Now it was his turn to frown, to be confused. “I assure you, I was quite sincere.”
Which sent her off giggling again. “No, wait, don’t frown like that.” She grabbed his arm when he went to step away. “I’m sorry, really. I just ... I can’t believe someone like you, in your position especially, doesn’t have a very clear idea of your impact on the opposite sex. I mean, you can be a little stuffy—”
“Stuffy?”
She blanched. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. Maybe not so much stuffy as proper.”
“What’s wrong with being proper?
”
“Nothing. It’s just, you do come across as professional and all business, but you definitely—” She broke off, shook her head. “I know you said this is off the record, but I am seeing the cornerstone of my business plan going right down the tubes here. I should stop talking now.”
“No, please don’t.” He covered her hand with his own, keeping its place on his arm. “I definitely what?”
She stilled, and looked down to where they touched. “I, uh ...” She trailed off, then looked back at him.
“You’re really serious, aren’t you? This isn’t some kind of game?”
“What game would I be about playing? I’m all but surrendering my integrity here. It’s doubtful I’d have anything to gain by asking such potentially ego-crushing questions of you.”
She smiled a little. “It’s the way you phrase things.”
“What way?”
“Very ... properly. Polished.”
“I like to make sure my meaning is clear.”
“It’s an interesting mix, is all. That crisp brogue, and your—”
“My what?” he asked when she paused.
“Your intensity.”
“My—you think I have intensity?”
She grinned. “Ah, yeah.” She held her thumb and forefinger close together. “Just a wee bit.”
He felt his body tighten again. There was a definite twinkle in her eye now ... and it was most definitely directed at him. And he didn’t think it was remotely business related. “And this intensity ... it’s a good thing?”
“You asked about women seeing you as anything other than a proper gentleman. You have this way of focusing on something quite intently. When that something is me—well, a woman,” she amended, “then I think you can safely say she might feel a little ... provoked. In a good way.”
“And that’s why you laughed?”
She cocked her head. “You really don’t think you have that kind of magnetism?”
“Honestly, it’s not something I thought much about until ... well, until I met you. Brodie poked a bit today, and I suppose it’s made me think. I do have a habit of focusing rather intently on one thing in particular. The distillery. And he suggested maybe I needed to spread my attentions around a bit. Then there you were, being quite provocative, although I’m certain it was innocently played ... but you didn’t seem the least bit affected by my reaction.”
“What reaction?”
Had he been the rogue he claimed he wanted to be, he’d have pulled her into his arms and she’d have felt quite clearly the reaction he was having. As it was, he took her hand off his arm and turned her around so her back was to him. “Perhaps we should end this discussion now, before it does intrude on our business dealings with one another.”
She went to turn, but he kept her firmly in place with his hands on her shoulders. Once again, she stilled. And though he’d only intended to aim her at her bedroom door, now that her back was to him, the feel of the play of muscles in her shoulders, shifting through the thin cotton beneath his fingertips, made him wonder if there was such a thing as touching her impersonally.
“What are you doing?”
“Here,” was all he said, as he pushed her hair over one shoulder. “Hold that.”
She gathered her hair in one hand, then glanced back at him. “So does this mean we’re going to have business dealings with one another?”
He didn’t respond—he was too intent at working the damp fabric to release the top button of her shift.
She stilled, her breath held.
“Just getting the hard-to-reach ones for you.”
She said nothing ... but didn’t move away, either.
Once done with the first, he attacked the second one, then debated on the third. He’d left the fabric clinging to her skin, not parting it, not tormenting himself more than he already was. And yet, there was her exposed neck, tilted so perfectly for him to access the tender skin with his mouth. Just one taste. He even found himself drifting closer, dipping his head just slightly, before pulling back. “There.” With great effort, he dropped his hands. “You should have an easier time of it now.”
She, however, did not turn back around. “Still the gentleman.”
He let out a sigh. “I suppose I’m doomed.”
She still didn’t move. Neither did he.
“And this business talk we’re going to have ...” She trailed off, then was silent for so long, he finally prompted her.
“Yes?”
Once again she glanced back at him. In that moment, with her gaze intently on his, her dress half undone, and her hair moving in a curtain of silk back across her shoulders as she released it ... He was forced to curl his fingers inward to keep from reaching for her right then, and damn the consequences. Whatever they might be.
“What is your stance on mixing business with ... being provoked?”
At any other time, coming from any other person, the question could have only been interpreted as in invitation. An invitation to provoke ... and keep provoking. But there was a look in her eye, something almost wary, that made him wonder if perhaps this was a trick question after all. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never had the occasion to give it any thought.”
“Hmm,” she said, giving him absolutely no indication of the murmured sound’s meaning. “I’ll be out in just a moment.” And then she was gone and the door between them shut quietly.
Leaving him to wonder what in the hell had happened.
And just what the bloody hell he wanted to happen next.
Chapter 4
Daisy closed the door between them, then immediately slumped against it. Was he kidding? Back home, men in his position of power—even one without Reese’s good looks and intensity—always had a very clear idea of their appeal and hold on the opposite sex. Maybe it was a Scottish thing.
She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered a little. Which had nothing to do with the damp dress, either. Just picturing the sincerity in Reese’s eyes as he’d asked his questions made her body respond. No, he hadn’t been playing any games. He’d said she’d provoked him. She rubbed her arms, and squeezed them more tightly against the ache in her breasts. He’d certainly managed to do that to her. How could a man like him honestly believe he didn’t have the right kind of mojo to pull that off? What, were the single women of Glenbuie napping or something? Surely, even if he’d been too buried in his work to do the chasing, some bold lass would have given it a go her own self. He had to know that not only was his reserved nature an incredible turn-on, but he had the kind of intensity and focus that, if harnessed properly, could shoot laser beams or something.
The way he’d been looking at her as he’d asked her if he could be the kind of man who provoked a woman ... And then, the feel of his hands on her, ever so lightly brushing her skin as he unbuttoned the back of her dress. It had been all she could do to stand there and not lean back against him, feel the length of his body bracing hers. Her gaze shifted to her bed, and her body quivered at the thought of the two of them there, naked, skin on skin, passionately entwined, rolling amongst the sheets and pillows, wrestling, teasing ... Provoking one another.
There came a tap at the door at her back. She let out a little squeak of surprise and leaped away from the door, as if he could see her standing there, staring at the bed, fantasizing about the two of them together.
“Daisy? I’m going to step down to the shop, take a look about.”
“Uh, sure. No problem. I’ll be down in a minute.” She immediately started peeling the sodden dress off, feeling foolish for giving in to her urges, even for a moment. He’d asked her a couple of highly personal questions, sure. And definitely there was some serious electricity bouncing between them. Business, Daisy, stick to business. She hadn’t moved all the way across the Atlantic Ocean just to fall back into the same patterns she’d gotten herself into before. Reese Chisholm was her ticket to building a strong financial base from which to launch her sma
ll-business plan. She wouldn’t make a fortune here, but she’d make a living and, more importantly, a home. In quiet, quaint, wonderfully off-the-beaten-track Glenbuie.
She’d find a nice local lad and settle into an easy, calm, relaxing relationship. No pressure, no high stakes. Given the fact that Reese had already bailed out and gone downstairs was proof he’d also thought better of instigating anything further.
And yet her gaze went once again to the bed. There was the critical difference this time, and it was the one thing she couldn’t shake. Yes, Reese was quite confident about his role in his professional life, which he put first, investing the lion’s share of his energies into it at the expense of a more fulfilling personal life. In that respect, he wasn’t much different from the men she’d become involved with in the past.
Where he was different, however, was in his personal life. He was quite restrained there. Not taking advantage of his powerful position in any personal, private way. He was very focused on his job, but not because he wanted to improve his social standing, or gain power, or increase his financial net worth. He wanted his business to succeed in order to help his family, not for any personal measure of success. In that respect he was very different. Which led Daisy to speculate just what it would take to make a man like Reese take some personal time, maybe lose a little of that ingrained, controlled restraint. Her gaze remained fixed on the bed, the images flashing one after the other through her mind.
Reese, naked, all long and lean, sinewy and perfect, lying flat on his back as Daisy moved on top of him. Starting with his mouth, then moving down along his body, making his hips buck, eliciting guttural moans from somewhere deep in his throat. She’d slide down his body, run her tongue down the center of his torso, then take him in her hand, slide her mouth slowly down every rigid inch of his—
No. No, no, and no.
She yanked her dress the rest of the way off and tossed it in the direction of her hamper. No more carnal images, no more thoughts of exactly what she’d like to be doing to him in that bed right now. Or what she’d like him to do to her. She resolutely pulled a pair of crisply pressed, khaki capri pants and a short-sleeved yellow camp shirt from the towering walnut wardrobe that doubled as her closet. No more dresses around Reese. She’d be buttoned down and covered up and wouldn’t give romping in the sheets with him another thought. Who the hell was she kidding? She slipped on her blouse, then slumped down on the edge of her bed as she did up the buttons. She really had to get a grip.
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