Jacquie D’Alessandro - Touch Me

“No.” She’d never signed any of her work, a matter of discretion as Richard had placed many of her pieces in his homes.

“Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift.” To herself, which made the statement true, although not completely truthful. But then she had no intention of telling him the truth.

His attention shifted to the doorway and she followed his gaze. Sophia meandered into the room, tail high, every line of her proclaiming that this was her house and those within it were fortunate that she allowed them to be there.

“It appears your mention of a weakness for cats was overheard,” he said.

“That’s Sophia. I’m afraid she’s rather shy…”

Her words trailed off as her pet, who usually couldn’t be bothered with strangers unless they offered her food, trotted toward Mr. Cooper as if a rasher of kippers hung around his neck. To Genevieve’s surprise, Sophia jumped onto Mr. Cooper’s lap without hesitation. She batted his lapel with her front paw, twitched her fluffy tail under his nose, then settled herself across his thighs as if he were her own personal mattress. Looking across at Genevieve through squinty eyes, she kneaded her front paws against Mr. Cooper’s breeches and purred so loudly, it sounded as if three cats were in the room.

Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. “Um, yes, I can see she is extremely shy.” When he lightly scratched her pet’s head, Sophia closed her eyes and stretched her neck into his touch.

Genevieve stared in amazement. “She’s never behaved like that with a stranger before. It’s almost as if she knows you.”

He shrugged lightly. “Animals like me.”

Good Lord, the sight of his long, strong fingers stroking her cat caused flutters in Genevieve’s belly.

“Tell me more about your weaknesses,” he said.

She forced her gaze away from that stroking hand. More of her weaknesses? She dared not. Especially as it appeared she had one for him. “I’ve already confessed mine. It’s your turn.”

Petting the sleepy-eyed cat with one hand, he sipped from his tea with the other, his gaze never leaving hers. His unwavering regard flustered her in a way she refused to show. Yet for all her outward serenity, her insides quivered with something she’d thought long forgotten, but had felt enough times in the past to know without a doubt what it was.

Desire.

Desire she wouldn’t, couldn’t, refused to act upon, and therefore desperately didn’t want to feel. Which meant she needed to end this impromptu tea party as soon as possible and send her far-too-attractive guest on his way. Still, to send him off too abruptly would no doubt make him wonder why, question whether she might have any interest in him.

Ten minutes. She’d give him ten more minutes. That was enough time not to appear rude or raise questions. She could endure his company and keep her unexpected, unwanted desire hidden for ten more minutes.

“We share a weakness for books,” he said.

“Oh? What do you enjoy reading?”

“Anything. Everything. I recently read Frankenstein and found it fascinating. Shakespeare and Chaucer are favorites. As I’m not accustomed to all this quiet in the country, I fear I’ll run out of reading material before my stay in Little Longstone is over.”

“I’ve a good number of books. Before you leave, you’re welcome to borrow several from my collection.” The instant the words left her lips she regretted them. What was she thinking? Borrowing books would require another visit to return them.

“A very generous offer. Thank you. What do you like to read?”

“Like you, anything and everything. Sir Walter Scott. The poetry of Blake, Lord Byron and Wordsworth. The gothic novels of Mrs. Radcliffe. I recently finished reading Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire .”

His brows rose. “Quite a departure from Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels.”

“Indeed. However, I enjoy variety.”

“Variety’s the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavor,’” he quoted softly.

Genevieve’s heart lurched. The husky timbre of his voice made it sound as if he were discussing something far more intimate than poetry.

“William Cowper,” she murmured.

“One of my favorite poets.”

“One of mine as well.”

“It appears we have quite a bit in common, Mrs. Ralston.”

Genevieve ignored the blatant interest she heard in his voice. Saw in his eyes. “Clearly you like cats.”

“I like animals of all sorts.”

“Do you have any pets?”

“Not at this time, but I have had in the past. I am considering getting myself a dog.”

“Then you should plan to attend the annual Autumn Festival in the village tomorrow. In addition to booths filled with food and trinkets and crafts, there are always several families with litters of puppies for sale.”

“An excellent idea. I’ll go-if you’ll accompany me.”

Genevieve firmly ignored the way her heart leapt. She opened her mouth to refuse, but before she could do so, he continued, “Choosing a dog is a serious decision, one that requires a second opinion.” His eyes glittered with deviltry. “You wouldn’t want me to pick out the wrong dog, would you?”

“There will be dozens of people at the festival who can help you choose.”

“Perhaps. But I’d much prefer your opinion.”

“And why is that?”

He finished the last sip of his tea, set the empty cup on the table, then, with a hand on Sophia’s back to keep her in place, he leaned forward. A mere three feet separated their faces and she could see the fine grain of his skin. The thickness of his eyelashes. The tiny scar in the center of his chin. “I could say it’s because you’re familiar with the village and its residents, including those with puppies. I could also claim it’s because you’re intelligent. And both of those would be perfectly true. But in the name of honesty, I must confess I also have a weakness for beautiful, well-read women.”

“I see. And you think to disarm me with flattery?”

A slow smile curved his lips and Genevieve had to press her own lips together to prevent herself from heaving a gushy feminine sigh. “Honesty, rather than flattery, was my weapon of choice. I also think we’d enjoy each other’s company. I know I’d enjoy yours. Will you accompany me?”

Genevieve knew she should say no. Nothing could come of this flirtation other than her longing for something she couldn’t have. Why torture herself? A flirtation with him, with any man, would ultimately lead to the same rejection she’d suffered with Richard.

Wouldn’t it?

The fact that she asked herself that question stunned her, and with a jolt, she realized that the temptation of this attractive man’s company was simply too strong a lure to ignore. It had been so long since she’d felt these flutterings. Since she’d felt attractive. Since she’d experienced even the tiniest flicker of hope that she might again experience any sort of physical intimacy. Of course, she’d never allow things to progress that far. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his attentions, just for a little while.

“I’ll meet you in the village square at noon,” she said for a compromise. As he’d finished his tea and the ten minutes she’d allotted had passed, she asked, “Before you leave, I’ll show you my library.”

“Thank you.” His slow smile warmed her. “And I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”

Genevieve rose, and, after gently setting Sophia on the carpet, he stood as well. His clear reluctance to depart wrapped another layer of warmth around her. She escorted him to her cozy library, remaining in the doorway while he perused her collection. After several minutes he returned to her bearing three books. “I appreciate the loan,” he said. “I’ll take very good care of them.”