well ravish her right here on the counter if she didn’t stop him, her boss and customers notwithstanding. In their zone of just the two of them, it didn’t seem to matter who was watching.
‘So, are you free, Miss Aitchison?’ He grinned at her as they broke apart, and drew the backs of his fingertips down the side of her face, the touch feather-light.
Free? In what sense? She was no longer masquerading as a call girl but he was still lavishing his wealth on her, and some might call that ‘buying’ …
‘Well … as a matter of fact, I’ve got some urgent work to do. I didn’t realise you were even on your way home, never mind back here already.’
‘You’re a very industrious and responsible young woman, Lizzie, and I admire that. Even if I do just want to throw you over my shoulder, and carry you away so I can ravish you.’ He spoke very softly, for her ears only, but somehow New Again seemed to have acquired an entirely new acoustic profile. His protestation seemed to bounce off all the four walls of the little shop and reverberate as if he’d roared it like a lion.
Her glance skittered to their companions. Marie was grinning like an idiot, still clearly sideswiped by the John Smith tsunami of masculine glamour, and even the two customers were smiling. Maybe they’d both had a ‘John’ in their younger days, and could still remember being swept away as well.
‘Take the afternoon off, Lizzie. I can easily manage … You go and … um … be with your friend.’
John blinked, as if he’d suddenly noticed other people around them. Giving Lizzie’s shoulder a quick squeeze, he stepped forward and offered his hand to Marie. ‘Pardon my atrocious manners, but I’ve missed Lizzie terribly while I’ve been away. I’m John Smith. How do you do?’
‘Marie Lanscombe …’ Marie looked as if she was about to expire when John shook her hand. ‘And don’t worry. I really can spare Lizzie for the afternoon.’
The temptation to just let herself be swept away was almost irresistible, but Lizzie stood firm. ‘I have to finish Mrs Cox’s dress first. She needs it tonight. It’s important. We said we’d deliver it, and I’ve still to finish the hem.’
The look in John’s eyes was amazing. Sexy, but with a different glow. She’d impressed him. The look she saw was pride. Pride in her …
‘How about you finish the sewing, then you and I deliver the dress together? There’s something I want to show you this afternoon, but we can easily make a detour first.’
Show me what?
John’s tricky, gleaming smile hinted at something unexpected … but for all she knew he might simply mean the ceiling of his room at the Waverley.
‘Cool … Is that OK?’ She turned to Marie, who was already nodding. ‘Er … it won’t take too long. Do you want to wait here, or is your car outside?’ she asked John.
‘I’ll wait here. After the time I had in New York, I don’t want to let you out of my sight more than I have to. And I’d like to watch you sew. I’d like to see you work … that is, see your
real
work.’ His voice dropped again and he winked outrageously, reminding her of Bettie, the accidental call girl.
Pink in the face again, Lizzie grabbed his hand and hauled him towards the workroom. ‘Come into the back. But you’ve got to promise to behave yourself, and not distract me. This is important stuff. Probably not by your standards, but it matters to me, and to other people too.’
‘I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,’ he said softly.
Lizzie could almost feel the weight of speculation wash over her as they disappeared into the back together. Marie, the ladies, they must be imagining all sorts. She was imagining it herself, hungry for another of those devastating kisses, even if there wasn’t the time or opportunity for anything more elaborate.
The workroom wasn’t big, but with John in it, it seemed tiny, like being in a pressure cooker. His presence filled the space, and his golden,
‘So, are you free, Miss Aitchison?’ He grinned at her as they broke apart, and drew the backs of his fingertips down the side of her face, the touch feather-light.
Free? In what sense? She was no longer masquerading as a call girl but he was still lavishing his wealth on her, and some might call that ‘buying’ …
‘Well … as a matter of fact, I’ve got some urgent work to do. I didn’t realise you were even on your way home, never mind back here already.’
‘You’re a very industrious and responsible young woman, Lizzie, and I admire that. Even if I do just want to throw you over my shoulder, and carry you away so I can ravish you.’ He spoke very softly, for her ears only, but somehow New Again seemed to have acquired an entirely new acoustic profile. His protestation seemed to bounce off all the four walls of the little shop and reverberate as if he’d roared it like a lion.
Her glance skittered to their companions. Marie was grinning like an idiot, still clearly sideswiped by the John Smith tsunami of masculine glamour, and even the two customers were smiling. Maybe they’d both had a ‘John’ in their younger days, and could still remember being swept away as well.
‘Take the afternoon off, Lizzie. I can easily manage … You go and … um … be with your friend.’
John blinked, as if he’d suddenly noticed other people around them. Giving Lizzie’s shoulder a quick squeeze, he stepped forward and offered his hand to Marie. ‘Pardon my atrocious manners, but I’ve missed Lizzie terribly while I’ve been away. I’m John Smith. How do you do?’
‘Marie Lanscombe …’ Marie looked as if she was about to expire when John shook her hand. ‘And don’t worry. I really can spare Lizzie for the afternoon.’
The temptation to just let herself be swept away was almost irresistible, but Lizzie stood firm. ‘I have to finish Mrs Cox’s dress first. She needs it tonight. It’s important. We said we’d deliver it, and I’ve still to finish the hem.’
The look in John’s eyes was amazing. Sexy, but with a different glow. She’d impressed him. The look she saw was pride. Pride in her …
‘How about you finish the sewing, then you and I deliver the dress together? There’s something I want to show you this afternoon, but we can easily make a detour first.’
Show me what?
John’s tricky, gleaming smile hinted at something unexpected … but for all she knew he might simply mean the ceiling of his room at the Waverley.
‘Cool … Is that OK?’ She turned to Marie, who was already nodding. ‘Er … it won’t take too long. Do you want to wait here, or is your car outside?’ she asked John.
‘I’ll wait here. After the time I had in New York, I don’t want to let you out of my sight more than I have to. And I’d like to watch you sew. I’d like to see you work … that is, see your
real
work.’ His voice dropped again and he winked outrageously, reminding her of Bettie, the accidental call girl.
Pink in the face again, Lizzie grabbed his hand and hauled him towards the workroom. ‘Come into the back. But you’ve got to promise to behave yourself, and not distract me. This is important stuff. Probably not by your standards, but it matters to me, and to other people too.’
‘I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,’ he said softly.
Lizzie could almost feel the weight of speculation wash over her as they disappeared into the back together. Marie, the ladies, they must be imagining all sorts. She was imagining it herself, hungry for another of those devastating kisses, even if there wasn’t the time or opportunity for anything more elaborate.
The workroom wasn’t big, but with John in it, it seemed tiny, like being in a pressure cooker. His presence filled the space, and his golden,
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