Jacquie D’Alessandro - Touch Me

Baxter jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Back that way. I’ll show ye.”

Baxter managed to make I’ll show ye sound like I’ll pulverize yer bones then toss ye into the Thames. Before Simon could reply, Mrs. Ralston said, “I’ll show Mr. Cooper the pups, Baxter.”

Baxter clearly planned to veto that suggestion, but once again, Mrs. Ralston spoke, this time in an undertone. “Miss Mary Winslow is headed this way-” she glanced over Baxter’s broad shoulder “-looking very much in need of an escort.”

Baxter turned his head so fast Simon swore he heard the man’s neck snap. Simon shifted and watched a pretty young woman with dark-red hair and light-brown eyes approach. “Good afternoon, Baxter,” she said with a shy, dimpling smile, stopping next to him.

To Simon’s utter amazement, a deep scarlet flush suffused the bald man’s cheeks. “Uh, I…I…Good afternoon, Miss Winslow.”

“And to you, too, Mrs. Ralston. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” Mrs. Ralston answered. Although her expression was suitably serious, Simon could hear the whiff of amusement in her voice. “Have you met Mr. Cooper? He has let Dr. Oliver’s cottage for the next two weeks.”

Simon made a formal bow, relieved that Mrs. Ralston had undertaken the introductions. In his amazement over Baxter’s reaction to the young woman, Simon might well have momentarily forgotten that here in Little Longstone he was Mr. Simon Cooper, not Simon Cooperstone, Viscount Kilburn. “A pleasure, Miss Winslow.”

Miss Winslow inclined her head. “Mr. Cooper. Welcome to Little Longstone.” She offered him a bright smile. “Heavens, we’ve all sorts of newcomers. First that artist fellow, Mr. Blackwell, and now Mr. Cooper. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I’m certain I will, thank you.”

Miss Winslow returned her attention to Baxter who seemed nailed in place, gazing upon her with such an utterly besotted expression Simon had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. When the giant remained mute, Mrs. Ralston suggested gently, “Perhaps Miss Winslow would enjoy a meat pie, Baxter.”

“Oh, yes, I would,” replied Miss Winslow, nodding.

Baxter swallowed hard. “I…I…Meat pie. Yes. Good.” Then he seemed to recall himself and managed to tear his gaze away from Miss Winslow long enough to give Simon another fulminating glare. “I’ll be close by should ye need me,” he said to Mrs. Ralston before extending a beefy arm to the petite Miss Winslow.

After they’d drifted off into the crowd, Simon turned to Mrs. Ralston, who still stared after the departing couple. “Baxter may be hewn of granite on the outside, but on the inside he’s-”

“Overcooked porridge,” Mrs. Ralston said, turning toward him. A slow smile curved her lips. “Please don’t let on that you know.”

“His secret is safe with me. I must say, I don’t believe I’ve ever before seen anyone manage to appear flushed and pale at the same time.”

Mrs. Ralston laughed. “Yes, that’s quite a feat.”

“Clearly that little devil Cupid shot an entire quiver of arrows at Baxter.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Ralston agreed. “I’ve known Baxter for more than half my life and I’ve never seen him so smitten.” She pursed her lips and gave him an arch look. “Perhaps when you see the puppies offered today you’ll find yourself equally besotted, Mr. Cooper.”

Staring into her beautiful blue eyes, Simon’s heart began to pound with hard, erratic beats and he indeed found himself feeling besotted. Ridiculously so. Annoyingly so. Unacceptably so. It was one thing to seduce the woman to glean the information he needed. It was quite another to fall victim to her obviously potent charms. That was a trap he had no intention of falling into.

“Perhaps,” he said. He extended his hand in the direction Baxter had indicated. “Shall we go see?”

“I DON’T BELIEVE I’ve ever seen anyone fall in love quite so quickly,” Genevieve remarked an hour later as she and Mr. Cooper slowly made their way through the noisy hustle and bustle of the festival. She eyed the tail-wagging puppy secured in the curve of Mr. Cooper’s arm. The bright-eyed dog eagerly looked about for something to lick with her active pink tongue.

Mr. Cooper’s lips curved upward and Genevieve’s breath caught. Dear God, that slow, lopsided smile of his was simply dazzling. “She was rather taken with me, wasn’t she?” There was no missing the smug, male satisfaction in his voice.

Genevieve hiked up a single brow. “Yes. However, I meant you falling in love with her . You dropped like a brick tossed in the Thames.”

“Clearly I harbor a weakness for pale-haired beauties,” he murmured, his green eyes resting on hers while his long fingers ruffled the puppy’s fur.

Genevieve’s midsection tightened and she pulled in a slow breath, mentally chiding herself for her reaction. She didn’t want to feel this heightened sense of awareness. This giddy sensation that threatened to bubble up and burst forth like the air in the hot springs. His every look, every brush of his shoulders against hers, shot heat through her, warmth that settled low in her belly and couldn’t be called anything other than what it was-desire.

She tried to ignore it, but failed completely. Her common sense chided her that it was ridiculous and unseemly. Yet it was apparently unstoppable.

Clearing her throat, she said, “You also clearly harbor a weakness for rambunctious dogs. You realize she was the naughtiest pup in the entire litter.”

“I noticed. However, I like naughty.”

Another layer of heat engulfed her. “Perhaps that’s what you should name her-Naughty.”

“That’s certainly better than what her previous owners called her.” He held the puppy out at arm’s length. “You didn’t like being called Daffodil, did you?”

The puppy yipped twice in apparent agreement and wriggled to lick Mr. Cooper’s wrist. “Of course you didn’t,” he said, pulling the dog against his broad chest. Genevieve noticed the energetic animal immediately quieted-except for its tongue which enthusiastically bathed the underside of Mr. Cooper’s jaw.

Unable to help herself, Genevieve laughed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a dog more determined to kiss anyone.”

“How fortunate that I harbor a weakness for kisses as well.”

Her gaze snapped up from the dog to his eyes and found him regarding her with unmistakable heat. “Perhaps you should name her Licker.” Heavens, was that breathless sound her voice?

“Perhaps. After all, there’s much to be said for a well-placed lick.”

An image immediately rose in Genevieve’s mind…of his tongue brushing across her bottom lip. Then trailing down her throat. Between her breasts. Then lazily circling her nipple-

“But as you helped me choose her, I thought I’d name her after you,” he continued, jerking her from her errant thoughts.

She had to swallow to locate her voice. “You wish to name your dog Genevieve?”

“A lovely name. But as it’s already taken, I thought I’d name her Beauty.”

Genevieve blinked. Pleasure washed through her, and, to her dismay she found herself utterly charmed. Surely she never used to fall victim to meaningless flattery so easily? Had she? She couldn’t recall. Most likely because it had been so long since any man had flattered her. Had found her attractive. Had made her feel desire. And desirable. And as much as she might wish it otherwise, she found this man’s attentions exhilarating. After Richard’s rejection, she’d forced herself to forget how this wanting, this physical need had felt, but now…now it was all rushing back, so quickly it was as if she were drowning.