Her conditions for accepting his invitation had angered him at first. But after some consideration, he decided, what the hell? Abby could talk about this mystery buyer all she wanted. It wasn’t going to change the bottom line.
When she opened the door at his knock, he caught his breath. Her smile was tentative, but everything else about her was no-holds-barred. The glorious hair. Her long-sleeved hunter green silk dress that hugged her hourglass figure from shoulders to knees. Black stiletto heels that gave her an additional few inches of height.
“You look beautiful,” he said gruffly. “I’m very glad you decided to say yes.”
“Me, too. Let me grab my purse.”
They chatted about inconsequential topics on the drive to Claremont, both of them on their best behavior. The drive was just long enough to break the ice. Duncan had chosen an upscale special-occasion restaurant that specialized in French cuisine.
When he helped Abby out of the car, his hand beneath her elbow, the punch of desire left him breathless. He’d been celibate out of necessity during this transition from Scotland to North Carolina, but whatever he felt for the petite lawyer was more than a sexual dry spell. She fascinated him.
Over dinner, he quizzed her about her life. “So tell me about your childhood. Did you always want to be a lawyer? I thought most girls went the princess route at first.”
Abby laughed as he had wanted her to. Her long-lashed eyes reminded him of a kitten he’d had as a boy. He’d named her Smoke, and she had followed him everywhere.
The waiter interrupted momentarily. Afterward, Abby answered his question. “To be honest, I was obsessed with the idea of international studies. I wanted to go to college abroad, anything to get away from my hometown. But I was pragmatic, even as a kid. I knew we didn’t have the finances to swing that. My mom died when I was three, so my dad raised me on his own. Money was always tight.”
“Law school isn’t cheap.”
“No. I was very lucky. Mr. Chester Sr., who was your grandparents’ original lawyer, had a long-standing tradition of mentoring students at the local high school. When he died, his son continued the program. I was fortunate enough to get an internship at the law firm during my senior year in high school. I realized that I liked the work. After four years at a state university, Mr. Chester helped me with law school applications, and I was accepted at Wake Forest. When I finished, they offered me a job here in Candlewick.”
“Didn’t you have aspirations to head for the big city and make your mark?”
Abby’s smile slipped. He couldn’t quite read her expression. “I think we all imagine what it would be like to start over someplace new. For me, the pluses of staying put outweighed any negatives. I haven’t regretted my decisions. How about you, Duncan? What was your life like back in Scotland?”
He shrugged, even now feeling the bittersweet pull of all he had left behind. “Ye’ve heard of the Isle of Skye, I suppose. It’s truly as beautiful as they say. Water and sky and everything in between.”
“You miss it. I hear it in your voice.”
“Aye. But I’m a grown man. I can handle a bit of disappointment.”
“How did you wind up working with your brother?”
“Brody started the boating business, both commercial fishing and tourist craft, when he was in his twenties. When I finished university, he begged me to join him and handle the financial stuff. We’ve had a good partnership over the years.”
“You told me that day in my office that he’s holding the job for you.”
“He wants to. I don’t think it makes sense. Granny is healthy as a horse. She could live for another decade. And I hope she does.”
He was shocked when Abby smiled at him and reached across the table to take one of his hands in hers. Her fingers were soft and warm. “I think you’re a very sweet man, Duncan Stewart.”
“I’m not sweet.” He bristled.
She stroked her thumb across his knuckles. “It’s a compliment.”
“Didn’t sound like one.” He lifted his free hand, the one Abby wasn’t holding, and summoned the waitress. “May we see a dessert menu, please?”
“Oh, not for me,” Abby said, her smile dimming.
“They’re famous for their bread pudding. I read about it on Yelp.”
“You’ll have to eat it. I’m too full.”
“Nonsense. You only had a salad and a tiny chicken breast. I can’t eat dessert alone.”
Now Abby looked genuinely upset. She let go of his hand, leaving him bereft. “No dessert,” she said firmly. “I’m dieting.”
He ordered one for himself anyway and frowned. “Why in God’s name are you dieting, lass? You’re perfect.”
* * *
Abby stared at him, waiting for the punch line...searching for the calculation in his eyes, the attempt to butter her up with compliments to lure her into bed. She saw none of that. Instead, Duncan seemed genuinely baffled and irritated by her insistence on refusing dessert.
She tried again. “You’re tall and lean, Duncan. For women like me who are short and chu—”
He reached across the table and put his hand over her mouth. “Don’t you dare say it. My God, girl. Are the men in this country blind and stupid? I’ve spent every minute of this evening wondering how long it will be until I get to see your naked curvy body pressed up against mine. And you’re worried about dessert?”
The waitress arrived with a decadent bread pudding topped off with real whipped cream. She set the plate on the table with fresh napkins and two spoons and walked away. In the ensuing silence, Abby felt her face turn red. Embarrassment mixed with sexual tension.
Duncan, his expression inscrutable, picked up a spoon and scooped out a bite of caramel-laced, whipped-cream-topped perfection. “Open your mouth, lass. I’ve an urge to feed you, since I can’t do anything else at the moment.”
Abby’s lips parted even as her knees pressed together. The way Duncan Stewart was looking at her ought to be illegal.
He lifted the spoon to her mouth. “Wider,” he said hoarsely.
She obeyed and moaned when he spooned the dessert between her lips. The flavors exploded onto her tongue. She chewed and swallowed, light-headed. Duncan watched her like a hungry hawk studying a mouse. “Do you like it?” he asked. His voice was sandpaper, the accent almost buried beneath rough desire.
“Yes.” The word stuck in her throat. “Do you want some?”
“Only if you feed it to me.”
Abby recognized the sexual challenge for what it was. Never in her life had she found herself in such a position. Duncan Stewart had turned a simple meal into sexual foreplay, and now he demanded an equal partner.
“I don’t sleep with a man on the first date,” she said desperately, reminding herself of all the reasons she made that rule.
“Understood. Besides, this isn’t a date—remember?” He growled his response, restless, agitated. “I’ll settle for dessert. Now, lass. Before it gets cold.”
The way Abby felt, she was never going to be cold again. With trembling fingers, she retrieved the spoon and scooped a bite for Duncan. He watched her intently.
“Stop that,” she complained.
“Stop what?” His complacent smile was suspect.
“Stop imagining me naked.”
“Is that what I was doing? I didn’t know you were a mind reader.”
“Open your mouth, Duncan.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Why had she never realized how erotic it could be to feed a man dessert? When Duncan’s sharp white teeth barely missed her finger as he snagged the pudding, she shuddered. “Is that enough?” She sat back in her chair and took a hasty drink of water, almost choking.
The man laughed at her, damn him.
“I’m still hungry,” he said.
“Feed yourself.”
“Do they teach you that line in wicked, sexy Scotsman school?”
Three
Duncan chuckled, though his sex was hard as stone and he wanted to howl at the notion he couldn’t have her tonight. “I have no idea. I’ve no’ been particularly successful with the ladies over the years. Too busy with work, I suppose.”
“Oh, please.”
“’Tis true,” he insisted. “There haven’t been as many women as you might think. Brody was always the one with the easy banter and the sunny personality. I spent a lot of time alone. I liked walking the moors and tinkering with boat engines and whatnot. Women were complicated and sometimes, frankly, too much work.”
“So why me?”
At first he thought she was flirting, begging for a compliment. But on second glance, he saw the uncertainty beneath the question, and it squeezed his heart. “Ah, heavens, Abby, ye’re poetry wrapped in a woman’s body. I walked into your office and it was like being punched in the chest. I could have taken you then and there. I can’t explain it. Perhaps you think I’m daft.”
She stared at him, eyes huge. She gnawed her bottom lip. “It’s not natural for a man your age to have to live with his grandmother. You’re a long way from where you belong. I think you’re probably homesick and horny. It’s skewed your thinking. I’ve never driven anyone sexually insane.”
“Surely you’ve heard of chemistry, sweet lass.”
The doubt on her face made him determined to tamp down his own lust until he could convince her of his sincerity.
“Is that what this is?” she asked.
“Maybe. Or a bit of fairy magic. We Scots are staunch believers in fairies, you know.”
Abby smiled wryly. “Here’s the thing, Duncan. I like you. Mostly. And let’s be honest. You’re a very sexy, appealing man. But this sounds like a really bad idea.”
“Why is that?”
“If we end up in bed together, I risk becoming the latest gossipy tidbit in Candlewick. I’ve worked too hard to prove myself in a career that’s extremely important to me.”
“So we’ll fly under the radar. Secret love affairs can be very hot.”
“I think you’re missing the point,” she sputtered, mortification painting her cheeks crimson.
“I know what I want, Abby. If you’re honest, I think you want it, too.” Her resistance made him push all the harder. “But if I’m wrong, all you have to do is say no, and I’ll leave you alone.”
The long silence that followed made him regret his noble pronouncement.
At last, Abby spoke, her expression troubled. “If we do this, you and I would definitely be temporary. Short and secret would be the name of the game. I don’t want the whole world to know when it’s over. So if they never know when it starts, we dodge that issue.”
Some of his jubilant mood faded. “I’ve never gone into a relationship already planning its demise,” he groused.
“Lawyers are all about endings and beginnings. It’s what we do. Life flows more smoothly when expectations are clear and everyone signs on the dotted line, metaphorically speaking, of course.”
He pretended to wipe his brow. “Whew. I thought you were about to make me sign a contract before I undress you.”
“I thought about it,” she said.
“You’re joking.” He raised an eyebrow, searching her features for the truth.
Abby’s grimace was self-mocking. “You know...lights out. Nothing too kinky at first.”
“Define at first.”
He was delighted when her choked laughter told him she understood his naughty question.
Abby glanced at her watch. “This has been lovely, but I do have work tomorrow.”
“Of course.” He paid the check, and they made their way to the car. Though it was only early September, in the mountains, the nights cooled rapidly after the sun went down.
His companion was quiet...too quiet. He would give a lot to know what she was thinking. She hadn’t once mentioned the prospective buyer for Stewart Properties. He was relieved, but the omission worried him. He hated secrets. Did the sexy lawyer have some wicked plan in mind to wait until he was weak with wanting and then try to coerce him into selling? He didn’t know her well enough to trust her.
It wasn’t hubris on his part to believe he could coax her into bed tonight if he pressed the issue. Sexual arousal hummed between them like a breathless, tangible force, incubated and nourished by circumstance. The faint scent of feminine perfume in the air. Her slightly off-key humming to the songs on the radio. The pair of sexy high heels that tumbled to the floor of the car when Abby kicked them off and curled her legs beneath her for the ride back to Candlewick.
Duncan gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled. The road home was strewn with dark, convenient pull-offs where a man could drag a woman against him and undress her and dive deep to slake his hunger.
He wanted Abby with a wild, urgent passion that rattled him and made him restless. His own reckless urges gave him pause. She asked for time. Time would be his friend. All he had to do was cultivate a modicum of patience.
God help him, perhaps he could do it.
On Abby’s front porch, he curled an arm around her waist and eased her into the shadows for a good-night kiss. She made no pretense of protest.
As kisses went, it was world-class. They jumped straight over getting to know you and ploughed into where have you been all my life? Abby was short and he was tall, so the logistics were tricky. Abby solved their dilemma by hopping up onto the door stoop.
Now he could run his hands from her shoulders to her narrow waist to the sensational curves of her bottom. The thin fabric of her green silky dress was no barrier at all. “Ye’re a stunning woman, Abby Hartmann,” he muttered. “I’m glad we met.” He nipped the side of her neck with his teeth and grinned when she made a little squeak in the back of her throat and nuzzled closer.
“Me, too,” she said. “Thank you for dinner.”
“So polite,” he teased.
“It’s what we do here in the South. But don’t mistake nice manners for being a pushover.”
“Understood.” He had never felt such an odd mixture of lust and tenderness toward a woman. “I’ll feed you again tomorrow night,” he said. “Six still work?”
Abby pulled back and ran her hands through her hair, visibly flustered, even in the semidarkness. Her porch light was off, but the streetlight out at the road gave them a hint of illumination. “I have book club tomorrow night,” she said. She rummaged in her small purse, extracted a key and unlocked the door.
“Thursday?”
“Dinner with friends.”
He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. “Friday?”
She turned, linked her arms around his neck and kissed him square on the mouth, her magnificent breasts pressed firmly against his chest. “Friday would be perfect. But only if you take me by the house to see your grandmother beforehand and let me tell her about the buyer Mr. Chester has in the wings.”
Duncan lost it for a good ninety seconds, maybe a full two minutes. He forgot where he was. He forgot he had decided to be a gentleman. He even forgot he was in a semipublic setting.
He was angry and aroused, a dangerous combo. Abby’s lips were addictive. She looked so charming and innocent in person, but she tasted like sin. He wanted to strip her bare and take her up against the front door. Her hands played restlessly with his belt at the back of his waist. His erection was buried in the softness of her stomach. There was no hiding the state of his body. She had to know.
But she didn’t back away, and she didn’t seem to mind.
At last, and to his eternal embarrassment, Abby was the one to drag them back from the edge. “I have to go inside, Duncan.”
; She said it apologetically, stroking his cheek with one hand as if she could pacify the raging beast inside him.
He shuddered and dragged in a great lungful of air in an attempt to find control. “Of course.” He stole one last, hurried kiss. At least he meant it to be hurried. In the end, he lingered, coaxing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and stroking the inside of her mouth until they both breathed raggedly.
Finally, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her nose. “Stop seducing me, woman.”
“I’m not,” she protested.
He dared to cup one of her breasts through two layers of smooth cloth. The weight of her firm, rounded flesh nestled in his palm. The pert, firm nipple begged for the touch of his thumb. “Aye, lass,” he said. “Aye, ye are.”
* * *
Abby escaped into the house with her virtue intact, but it was a close call. She slammed the door, locked it and peered through the curtains to make sure the tall, handsome Scotsman made his way back to his car.
Her knees trembled and her mouth was dry. She was such a fraud. From the beginning, she had known that going out with Duncan Stewart was a bad idea. She had rationalized to herself that getting on good terms with him could mean an opportunity to press the case for selling his grandmother’s business.
And yet as the evening unfolded, Abby had let herself be sidetracked by the warmth of the Scotsman’s wicked smile. This was exactly the kind of thing that made mixing business with pleasure problematic. She was supposed to be initiating contact with Duncan’s grandmother and explaining why selling Stewart Properties could be in Miss Isobel’s best interests. Instead, Abby had forgotten her mission, endangered her stellar reputation in the law office and danced perilously close to becoming Duncan’s temporary fling.
* * *
The following day on her lunch hour, she and Lara munched apples and did their customary two-mile walk. Lara, being Lara, didn’t bother to hide her eagerness for details. “Spill it, Abby. Give me every juicy tidbit. My vicarious love life is all I have at the moment.”
On Temporary Terms Page 3
