Karen Kendall - Open Invitation?

She slowly disentangled her hand, unable to look away from his sardonic and wildly sexy mouth. Rimmed by unshaven stubble, his lips sat cockily over a cleft chin set in a strong, angular jaw.

“Aw, do I have to give that back, Miz London?” He was referring to her hand. “I thought maybe it was mine to keep.”

Again, she fell into that smile, even though it was a cheesy line. This cowboy was something else. Her heart did a slow roll in her chest, and she blinked.

The man may not have manners, but he does have magnetism—even if it’s all animal. “Nice compliment,” she said, by way of recovery. “Very good. We can work with that.” She nodded and smiled like a benevolent professor.

Granger shoved his own hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels as he looked down at her. His mouth twisted. “Thank you, ma’am. If I had a tail, I’d wag it for ya, in hopes of gettin’ a Scooby snack.”

Lilia tilted her head and evaluated him. Not stupid, in spite of the twang and the slang. He knew when he was being patronized. She’d have to be careful. “Why don’t we go into my office,” she suggested. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Just hot ‘n’ black.”

She restrained herself from adding the words “please” and “thank you” for him, walked to the antique mahogany desk that had been her grandmother’s and retrieved a neatly prepared file. “While I get that for you, you may want to have a look at our contract.”

“All right. Uh, d’you have somewhere I can put my hat?”

“Of course,” Lilia said automatically, and found herself holding the Stetson without the faintest idea what to do with it. She cast a glance at the bronze bust of her grandfather Henry London, who had been knighted by the Queen of England for distinguished work in the sciences.

Sir Henry sat on a pedestal in a corner of her office. He was terribly dignified and wore a bow tie. A wicked impulse took hold of her. For the next couple of hours, he could also wear a cowboy hat. She took it over to him and perched it on his head at a jaunty angle.

Granger grinned. “Gives the old pompous ass a little personality, don’t it?”

Lilia froze. With silent apologies to Grandfather Henry, she aimed a genteel smile in the cowpoke’s direction and said nothing. It would be rude to embarrass him, no matter how tempting. She handed him the file.

Granger took the file and sprawled into her visitor’s chair, denim-covered knees spread wide. He began to whistle while reading. He cracked his knuckles.

Oh, dear. Lilia didn’t slap herself in the forehead for taking on this handsome yokel, but maybe she should have. Could she really transform him?

She made a beeline for the kitchenette to get his coffee. She poured a cup for him and one for herself, using her grandmother’s Royal Doulton china: very thin, very old, hand-painted.

She sang softly as she set a tray with the cups, saucers, cream, sugar and linen napkins. She added a plate of artistically arranged cookies and fresh strawberries and two silver spoons, also her grandmother’s. Nana Lisbeth’s third commandment was: Food should always look pretty. It tastes better that way.

With perfect posture, Lilia lifted the tray and glided toward her office, ignoring Shannon who winked at her and lifted her Diet Coke can in a parody of English manners, waving her pinky finger in an exaggerated fashion. Shan’s hideous rendition of “God Save the Queen” did make Lil laugh, though.

She swept into her office with a smile still on her face, though she felt it wobble when she beheld Dan Granger’s booted foot propped against the edge of her desk.

“What exotic-looking boots you’re wearing, Mr. Granger!” she exclaimed, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Elephant hide,” he nodded. “Check ’em out.” He slid the boot farther onto her desk for her perusal. “Cost me a damn arm and a leg, but well worth it.”

She kept her smile fixed in place as she moved around the other side of the desk and placed the tray squarely in the middle of it. “I do hope the elephant agrees with you.”

Dan guffawed and didn’t move his boot in spite of the proximity of the food.

Lilia squinted meaningfully at it, but he must have been convinced that she was admiring the awful footwear. She slid the tray closer to the boot, and then closer, until she actually nudged it and he took the hint. “Your coffee, Mr. Granger.”

He eyed the beautifully set tray uneasily. “The Sunday china, huh? I’m honored.”

“No, no. I use this every day. Here you are,” she said as she handed him his cup and saucer. He needed to get comfortable with this sort of thing.

His big paws dwarfed the delicate bone china and he looked at it as if it might bite. “I’m awful afraid I might drop this.”

“Of course you won’t,” she said with loads of cheer.

He lifted the cup by its tiny, finely crafted handle, which disappeared entirely behind his big fingers. He took a slurp and then gingerly set cup and saucer down on the corner of her desk, watching as she prepared her own coffee.

“Would you like a cookie? A strawberry?” She held the plate out to him. Granger snagged a cookie and popped the whole thing into his mouth while she watched, horrified and yet fascinated by the clean, no-nonsense appetite of the gesture.

She had to admire the even white teeth crunching down on the cookie, devouring it in a single bite. And the nod and grin of simple appreciation as he said, “Mmm. That’s good.”

She also couldn’t help but notice the heavily muscled, tanned arm that helped perform the gesture. In fact, his bicep was quite delicious. She nibbled delicately on her own cookie. And look, there’s a matching bicep right over there. Plus an intriguing, broad expanse of chest under the snug T-shirt, a flat belly underneath and…oh, dear. She was looking there again.

How could she? But just that tiny peek had revealed a…well, she really shouldn’t have noticed, but…it… went quite a distance down his right thigh from where it originated.

“Miz London? Your file?”

She blinked. He’d extended her manila folder to her, across the desk. “Oh, yes, of course. Excuse me.” She put out her hand to take it, her cheeks heating, and fixated on that sexy mouth and chin again. Suddenly an image of them right between her legs shocked her and she reared back, dropping the file. What in heaven’s name was wrong with her?

The papers hit the floor in a messy cascade, and she reached down for them at the same time he did, their faces almost colliding. “Excuse me!” she said.

“Pardon me,” he said. He straightened and took a step back, hip jogging the corner of the desk and then, most unfortunately, the Royal Doulton cup and saucer. They crashed to the floor and splintered while black coffee splashed onto her hand-embroidered cream rug.

“Oh! Oh, oh!” Lil repeated stupidly, staring at the mess.

“Dad gummit!” exclaimed Granger, his expression appalled. Then he peeled off his T-shirt.

“What! What are you—”

He dropped it onto her carpet and placed his boot on it, mopping up the excess coffee while she sputtered and stared at his naked, furred chest and flushed bright red and then sputtered some more. “No! Thank you. Don’t rub! Blot.” she finally managed to get out. Then Lil ran for the kitchenette and club soda and carpet cleaner.

Jane was there, peering into the refrigerator with a hopeful expression. “What’s the matter?”

“Spill,” Lil said. “Destroyed Royal Doulton, Nana Lisbeth’s. And he’s half-naked in my office! Give me the club soda, please.”

Jane looked at her as if she were an escaped lunatic. “Half naked in your office? Cow patty man?”