She stirred a bit of honey into her tea. “Ah, that was why it hadn’t taken you long to fill up a plate. I wondered about that.”
They sat at the table where they’d dined a few hours before. Amelia stirred her tea. “I find I am fascinated by this place. I’ve never seen anything like it—”
“—Which you would not have since ladies are not allowed,” Driscoll finished for her.
“Yet, I’m to work in one.” Amelia took a sip of tea after blowing on it.
“Yes. However, your identity will be unknown, and therefore, your reputation protected.”
“And you believe I have a reputation to protect?”
His brows rose. “Don’t you?”
It was time to pull back. If the questions continued, she would reveal something she’d rather not. She shrugged and sipped more of her tea.
They sat in companionable silence drinking their beverages and listening to the hum of the roulette wheel, the roll of dice, and groans from men who were no doubt on the losing side of a table.
After a while, Amelia turned to ask Driscoll a question and found him staring at her. She’d seen that look before from men she’d met at the few social events she’d attended in the village near her family’s country estate.
Her heart sped up and she felt a strange tingle in her middle. She’d never had that reaction to the village men, but Driscoll Rose’s heavy-lidded eyes watching her so thoughtfully as he slumped in his chair, his long finger circling the rim of his teacup made her skin feel prickly, as if a lightning storm was approaching.
She licked her dry lips. “What?”
7
Driscoll knew he had completely lost his grip on common sense as he leaned toward Amelia, cupped her face in his hands and brought his mouth close to hers. “I want to kiss you.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Why?”
Since she didn’t pull back, instead of answering, he moved the few inches separating them and covered her mouth with his. He nearly moaned with pleasure. Her lips were warm, moist and honey-scented from the tea. He removed his hands from her face to wrap her in his arms, pulling her flush against him.
He’d kissed dozens of women, but none was sweeter, softer, or fit his body so well. He nudged her lips with his tongue, and she smiled, enough movement to gain entry.
To his delight, she slid her hands up his chest and encircled his neck, her slender fingers tugging on the back of his hair. He shifted his mouth to take the kiss deeper, more powerful.
Amelia was sweet in her innocent response to him. Her initial unease faded, and she became more involved with his movements, which to his delight, she mimicked.
The sound of footsteps reluctantly dragged him back to reality. The actuality of where they were and how many people could walk by stopped him cold. If it was his intention to keep Amelia’s name free from ruination or scandal, the last thing they needed was to be caught practically pawing at each other in the dining room.
Driscoll pulled back, trying desperately to catch his breath. He glanced over at Amelia who stared at him, her fingers resting on her well-kissed lips. She opened her mouth to speak when Dante strolled into the room.
He glanced at them, then quickly offered Driscoll a smirk that he hoped with all his being Amelia had not seen.
“I thought you two were working on the books.” He reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.
“We’re taking a break,” Driscoll snapped.
Dante turned and took a seat across from Amelia. “A break? Is that what you call it now?”
Driscoll rose from his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands balled into fists that he was prepared to use on his brother’s grinning mouth. “Yes, a break. Amelia and I have been staring at numbers for hours. We deserve a break.”
His brother held his hands up in surrender. “All right. I only asked. I never remember you taking a break that involved leaving your desk.” He nodded at Amelia. “Very dedicated, my brother.”
She raised her chin and stared at Dante. “Yes. I know he is dedicated. You are fortunate to have a partner such as him.”
She was beautiful in the flush that remained on her face. Either from their short bout of passion, or her anger at his brother. Either way she reminded him of a female warrior.
“I totally agree, Miss Pence.” Dante lowered his voice almost as if in repentance, which Driscoll in no way believed. “Driscoll is a fine partner. And brother.”