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.”Miranda made a noncommittal sound, absorbing the words.“Since I can’t get you away from your ink, I say that you write to the author again.And proposition him.”It took a moment for her friend’s words to sink in.“Prop—” she sputtered.“Any man who writes words like that has to be able to use his hands in other ways too.It would be good for you.”“Georgette!” Miranda clunked her teacup onto her saucer.“Oh, pish, you could use a little manhandling.” Georgette nibbled on a scone.“Write to your Eleutherios or come ogle Lord Downing and try to gain his interest like the rest of us—I daresay you might even be willing to let your bonds free if you had an assignation with one of them.Satisfy your needs.”“Assignation? Satisfy my needs?” Miranda gawked, then ground her teeth.“And manhandling? As if you can speak of manhandling.I can’t believe you are practicing your wiles on poor Peter.”“If the shoulders and thighs are good…” Georgette tapped her lower lip with her pink-gloved finger, smirking.“Too few of the quality kind around these days under all that padding,” a husky, decidedly unfeminine voice said.“How do you ladies ever deduce what is real?”Miranda’s body tensed, and Georgette immediately looked up at the deep drawl.“Ladies.” Crisp black and white once again stood in contrast as the speaker inclined his head.Georgette uttered a shocked response, but Miranda barely registered it as her body unwillingly turned left toward him.He raised a brow, and one side of his mouth curved.There was an entirely too-amused light in his eyes.A long finger, enclosed in black today, ran idly along the edge of his crossed arm.“Miss Chase?”“Yes?” she answered, somewhat stupidly, wondering how long he had been standing in the early shadows listening to their conversation.Mortification, curiosity, anticipation…she couldn’t discern which emotion was winning.She thought maybe the mortification.“Perhaps you might satisfy my needs instead?”The mortification.Most definitely.Georgette said something incomprehensible in a strangled voice.“What do you need?” Miranda’s voice was a bit faint, her ears slightly buzzing.Her mind was going in four directions simultaneously.A little like the hobbyhorse that she had seen speed down a hill, breaking apart in midstride, and casting the driver one way while the two wheels and wooden body flew elsewhere.“Oh, I’m sure together we can figure that out.” He motioned behind him, smiling.“Shall we?”She jerkily stood and took two automatic steps toward him before she pulled herself together enough to remember that Peter was manning the counter, that Georgette was gaping like a fish, and that the man in front of her was here to pick up his parcel—which required no help from her in her mortified state.She’d probably do something even more embarrassing at this point.She’d be castigating herself for weeks as it was.She stopped.“Peter can help you.”“Not in the manner I’d prefer.” He smiled lazily, his questing fingers absently caressing the leather bindings on a row of Greek philosophers.Another choked gurgle issued from the table.There was that same maddening flash in his eyes, a lone light bobbing in a storm-tossed sea.It made her itchy.She backed up, embarrassment becoming belligerence at the topsy-turvy way he made her feel.That, and she was pretty sure his presence was starting to make her perspire, and she didn’t want to let him see.“I don’t know in what manner you’d prefer, but Peter will be perfectly happy to assist you with your package.”He raised a brow.“I think not.”“Then he can also assist you with anything else you require.” Yes, there was definitely an overheated feeling spreading into her hairline.“He is quite familiar with the stacks.”“No.”“No?” She startled.Everything about this man was so beyond her familiarity.She had assumed that without something epically scintillating on her lips, he would withdraw…become bored or irritated.That he had returned today—and so early—made the wheels on her runaway hobbyhorse spin more out of control, but also imbued her with a strange sense of feminine confidence that she usually lacked.The power of it was foreign and heady and clashed against the lingering freeze of embarrassment.She arranged her skirts and returned to the chair across from Georgette, pulling a sheet of the paper to her blindly.“You are just here to pick up your parcel,” she said calmly, pulling forth a breeze to her voice.“I assure you that what you require is behind the desk.”“Is that correct?”“Yes.And I am busy, as you can see.” She pointed to Georgette, who stared blankly back, uncharacteristically speechless.“Busy discussing the latest rag on dits?”She colored over being caught with her hand on the gossip sheet, as it was.How long had he been standing there? “I am taking a break at the moment.As I’ve said several times, Peter will be happy to assist you.I assure you that your parcel is behind the desk.”“But that is what you thought last eve as well.I left quite unassisted.And unsatisfied [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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