“Quick, in here, no one’s looking,” he hissed, pushing me through the panel.
Scuttling up the narrow wooden staircase, I found it hard not to laugh. Charlie kept prodding me and talking like an agent on a mission. Then, just as I went to push through the secret passage into his office, he stopped me and pushed against the black brick wall…or rather what I thought was a black brick wall. The wall fell away easily. Charlie flicked a switch and we were standing at the entrance of an eighteenth-century bedroom.
I looked at Charlie quizzically. “Her Ladyship’s private bedchamber,” he explained as he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the finely carved oak four-poster.
“But I thought…” I began.
“My office? No, that was her public bedchamber, a mere front to the far more desirable secret chamber.”
I giggled at the madness as well as the splendor of the room. “So this is where she brought her lover. What was his name?”
“Edward? No, this, my darling Lola, is where she brought her husband, Charles.” He deposited me on the bed and looked at me. “Do you know I have had this mad idea of doing this, of bringing you here to this chamber and seeing you on this bed since the day you first walked into my office to apply for the job.”
“You’re a sick man, Lord Charles Mannox MacField Orbington,” I told him, using his full title for the first time.
“Anyway, let me deposit Jean in front of the news in my office. I’ll be back in a jiff,” he promised, but I wasn’t risking him out of sight just yet, so I grabbed him and pulled him down onto me for a long warm kiss I hoped would never end.
Jean would jolly well have to go without her headlines.
SEX WITH THE EX
A Red Dress Ink novel
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3133-7
© 2005 by Tyne O’Connell.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. While the author was inspired in part by actual events, none of the characters in the book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
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