Forever in My Heart by Jo Goodman Page B

wing chair and scooped it up. Skirting the screen, he dangled it in front of the whore.
     
"Fetching," he drawled. His bored tone gave lie to the single word.
     
His eyes were flat, almost uninterested, as they skimmed her.
     
Splashing had dampened the curling ends of her hair and tendrils clung flatly against her neck and temples. Droplets beaded on her naked shoulders and her fine-boned and fragile features were shiny with mist.
     
He was blocking his own light from the oil lamp and he stepped aside, watching her sink a little lower in the bath. Only the line of her collarbones was visible above its dark, mirror-like surface.
     
"There's no reason to act like a shy maiden in front of me," he said.
     
"This is professional, not personal." He paused, watching her closely.
     
"Isn't it?"
     
She blinked, returned his stare, then nodded slowly.
     
He dropped the towel, which she managed to catch in one hand before it hit the water.
     
"Red," he said.
     
"Hmmm?" Grimacing, she touched her throat lightly with her fingertips.
     
"Pardon?" she said. This time she felt the vibration of her voice against the pads of her fingers.
     
"Your hair's red. There's not much light in here. I wasn't sure."
     
He wasn't a man given to impulse but it was exactly what moved him now.
     
He hunkered down beside the bath. He thought for a moment that she might flinch, then wondered why the notion would even cross his mind.
     
Still, he found himself asking, "May I?"
     
She looked at his raised hand, the fingertips just inches from her ear, and nodded.
     
The back of his fingers touched her cheek and rested there briefly.
     
He lifted a tendril. It was soft and silky and slightly damp. He frowned as he noticed faint bruises along her throat. He touched one lightly. "You've been treated roughly this evening."
     
She nodded.
     
"Good thing I 'm here then. We'll see what we can do about that."
     
Her skin was flushed. "You're warm," he said. "Out of the bath now."
     
He stood and turned away. There was hurried movement behind him, water splashing, and the sounds of the towel being drawn briskly against her skin. He slipped off his vest and laid it next to his evening jacket.
     
When she came into his line of vision again she was wearing her white cotton nightshift. He looked down at her bare feet and the trim ankles. "You'd better get back into bed. Even on the rug, the floor's cold. Do you want me to light a fire?"
     
Crawling back into bed, she shook her head.
     
His low laughter was deep and faintly dangerous as she pulled thethick down comforter around her shoulders. "Just the same," he said, "I think I'll do it." He had already decided he didn't want a quick poke under the covers. He fully intended to enjoy himself and that meant enjoying the whore's body with his eyes as well as his hands.
     
His decision vaguely surprised him. Thirty minutes ago a quick poke was all he had in mind. He could even admit that he wanted to hear her voice again. Her husky timbre was like a shot of good whiskey, something to be savored.
     
It took him a few minutes to get a fire started. Standing, he brushed his hands on his trousers. The streaks of gray ash on his black evening wear made him go to the porcelain basin by the bed and wash his hands. "It wouldn't do to leave fingerprints, would it?"
     
Her smile was tentative.
     
"I think you could use a drink."
     
The smile faded as her lips parted in surprise.
     
"Medicinal purposes only," he said encouragingly. He saw her immediate acceptance in the relaxation of her shoulders. Another quick look around the room convinced him he hadn't missed a liquor cabinet on his earlier survey. He shrugged. "Good thing I've come prepared." He crossed the room to his black bag. Opening it up, he retrieved a quarter-full bottle of Scotch nestled among stacks of bound bills. He turned, showing her the bottle. "Glasses?"
     
She shook her head.
     
"Then you'll have to tipple right out of the bottle." He