Desire Me

by Robyn DeHart

  “Well, Miss Tobias.” Max leaned forward and leveled his gaze on her tawny eyes. “What do I get if I win?”

  “The pleasure of winning,” she said with a faint smile.

  Max shook his head. “I’m not certain that’s enough. How about a kiss?”

  The crowd around them cheered. Shock broke through her careful façade, and her eyes widened, but she quickly recovered. “I don’t believe I was offering any kisses,” she said. “How about if you simply get to keep your dusty old map,” she added, tossing his words back at him.

  Perhaps she knew more about him than she’d let on, or perhaps she knew more about the map than the average collector. He’d held on to that map for years despite several high-priced offers from other parties and one attempted theft. The map hadn’t been the conclusive proof he’d once believed it would be. His quest for Atlantis stretched across his adulthood and still he had not found it. But he was getting close. He could feel it.

  Miss Tobias sat quietly, but her pulse ticked impatiently in that sweet spot beneath her ear.

  “I believe you have a bet,” he said. “You win this hand, and I will give you my map.”

  She paused a moment, trying to gauge his meaning. “You know to which map I’m referring,” she said.

  “I believe I do.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  “But if you lose,” he said slowly, “I get that kiss.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but after a breath, she said nothing and merely nodded.

  “The wager has been set, now let us see your hands,” the dealer said.

  Silence surrounded them, and it was as if they were playing alone in his parlor. Miss Tobias flipped her cards, one by one, revealing three sevens and two queens.

  “A full house,” the dealer said.

  A slow, satisfied smile spread across the lady’s face, a cat with her bowl of cream.

  The pleasure of her smile was so enticing, so seductive, he was almost sorry he was going to win. Almost.

  First Max turned the two, the one card in his hand that didn’t matter, then just as she’d done, he slowly turned each card over.

  “Four of a kind wins,” the dealer said.

  The smile evaporated from Miss Tobias’s face.

  “Nicely done,” she said tightly. She came to her feet.

  “I believe we will cash out for the night,” Max told the dealer.

  Once they had stepped away from the table, Max put his hand on the lady’s elbow to direct her to a private room.

  “What do you think you are doing?” she asked tartly. She pulled her arm free and eyed the door behind him.

  He leaned against the door and allowed himself to take in the full length of her. She was taller than he would have guessed, though by no means would he consider her a tall woman. But he did imagine that her legs were shapely and long. From his vantage point at the table he’d been able to see her voluptuous breasts, but he’d not been able to enjoy her narrow waist and full hips. She had the kind of body women envied. Whereas other women spent fortunes on all manner of contraptions to perfect their shapes, it did not appear that Miss Tobias had so much as a corset on beneath that glorious dress. She, it would seem, was perfect all on her own.

  “You lost the hand,” he said.

  Her lips pursed. “I realize that.”

  “Which means I won.”

  She swallowed and again his eye was drawn to that tender flesh behind her jaw line. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked. Her right foot tapped a random rhythm on the wooden floor.

  He smiled. “Most definitely.” He shoved off the doorjamb and walked toward her. “Tell me, Miss Tobias, what part should I not be enjoying? That a beautiful woman shows up at my favorite club to pursue me?”

  She held up her hand. “Not to pursue you, only your map,” she corrected.

  “Perhaps, but instead of asking to purchase my map, you chose to negotiate a wager.” He took her hand and examined the satin-encased fingers. “I do appreciate a brazen lady.”

  “There is nothing brazen about my behavior.” She withdrew her hand. “My lord, I see no reason to drag this on all evening. I realize you find this entire scenario vastly entertaining, but I do not have time to amuse you any longer. I agreed to a kiss. Now I shall give you one, then be on my way.”

  “Indeed?”

  Without another word, she braced both gloved hands on either side of his face and leaned up to him. Her soft lips brushed seductively across his, but instead of giving him a quick peck, then retreating, she lingered. Her warm breath mingled with his own, and he wanted to pull her closer, kiss her deeper, but she moved back before he had the chance.

  “Now then, I do believe our business is complete,” she said.

  “That was a lovely kiss,” he told her, “but it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” He pulled her to him, her lush body pressing against his own, then he dipped his head to her neck. “This spot,” he murmured. “I’ve been looking at it all night.” He tasted her, the flesh as tender as he’d imagined. Her nails bit through his jacket and into his arms. “Perfect.” Then he let her go.

  She eyed him thoughtfully, but said nothing. It would seem there were ways to make the lady speechless.

  “I do believe we’ll be seeing each other again,” he said.

  She said nothing, but merely turned on her heel and left the room.

  Sabine Tobias. Why would someone be that desperate for an antiquity? There had to be a reason, and chances were, it would be a good one. It shouldn’t take too much investigation to uncover who she was and what she wanted with his map.

  * * *

  The following day, Sabine Tobias grabbed a handful of glass jars and headed out to her storefront. She wouldn’t say that last night had been a complete disaster, though certainly not a success either. But she knew for certain the man in question had possession of the map. And she knew where he lived. Oddly enough she also knew what it felt like for him to lave warm kisses on her neck. Everything about him had been unexpected.

  Since the night before, she’d spent entirely too much time reliving that one moment, and not enough on devising a new plan. So far a trip to his home seemed to be her best option. But she’d need help from her aunts to ensure that she didn’t get caught.

  Sabine should have been bone-weary from her unexpectedly late evening, but instead her mind was surprisingly active. She constantly relived every breath from the night before, wondering what, if anything, she could have done differently.

  “We open in ten minutes,” Lydia said as she rushed from the back room.

  Word was certainly getting out as of late, because their business had nearly tripled in the last few weeks. Evidently someone in London—someone important—had decided Tobias Miracle Crème was highly in fashion. She and her aunts were making the facial crème as fast as they could and still they sold out each day.

  Her aunt Calliope came out right behind her with an armload of her own. “Sabine, you came in so late last night,” she whispered. “I tried to stay awake, but…” Lydia passed by and Calliope stopped talking. She smiled sweetly at her eldest sister.

  After they were once again alone, Calliope continued, “I thought maybe you’d gotten yourself into trouble.”

  “No need to be so secretive. Lydia knows where I was,” Sabine said as she placed the jars on the shelf.

  Calliope’s pale blue eyes shone. “How did it go with the map? Did you see it?”

  Sabine plucked the jars from her aunt’s arms and started stacking them neatly into the fabric-lined baskets they used for display. “No.” She frowned at her aunt as she pulled a stray thread out of Calliope’s wispy grayish-blonde hair. “I followed him. And I ended up not at a ball as I’d thought, but in a gaming hell.” She filled Calliope in on the rest of the details, their wager, everything except for the kiss.

  “You lost?”

  “I did.” She put a hand on Calliope’s arm. “But I’ll think of some
thing. I’ve got one idea already. I know Lydia will not approve, but I believe I might simply have to break into his house. Madigan entrusted me with this task, and I do not want to let him or Agnes down.”

  “I’m opening the doors, ladies,” Lydia said as she swept past them, then made her way behind the curtain.

  Lydia had assumed the role of the eldest in the family when Sabine’s mother had passed. She fussed over each of them, and Sabine loved her for it. While the shop was open, though, she stayed in the back tending the books and packaging orders. She had never gotten used to their living among the English.

  Sabine glanced behind her aunts to assure they were alone. “But it will require assistance from each of you.”

  Punctuated by the sound of tiny bells, a tall and well-dressed gentleman entered the shop.

  “We’ll talk more about my plan this evening,” Sabine whispered.

  The man wore a hat that partially hid his face, something Sabine knew was considered rude in polite Society. A true gentleman would have removed his hat once inside the shop. Other customers, all women, also entered the shop and began to mill about. It was how it had been for the past few weeks. They’d open their doors, and the people would come almost immediately, and often they’d be sold out of the facial crème three hours after opening.

  The man immediately walked over to the nearest shelf and grabbed one of the jars for a closer inspection. His tall frame seemed even more so in her small and delicate shop, and his dark suit stood out against the pale fabrics of linen and tulle they used in their shelf displays. This was a lady’s place, and he looked very much a man as he pawed at her wares. His large hands dwarfed the delicate jars of crème.

  Then he removed his top hat, and steely blue eyes met her gaze. Maxwell Barrett.

  “Miss Tobias,” he said with a rakish grin.

  “You found me,” she uttered foolishly. Of course, she had given him her name. Normally that might not have yielded a successful search. London was a densely populated city, but the mention of the name Tobias to nearly any woman in Society would have brought him to her door. Perhaps the marquess was married—a fact she had not considered last night when she’d kissed him.

  “It would appear so.”

  Not precisely a blond—though his hair wasn’t dark enough to be considered brunette—he was about as attractive as men were allowed to be. Yet there was nothing pretty about him. With a chiseled jaw and deep-set eyes, his features were undeniably masculine. She was unable to do anything but stand there and stare at him. Away from the smoky confines of the gaming hell, she was able to fully appreciate his features. Last night, she’d recognized he was handsome, but here in the light of day… She mentally shook herself and moved away from him to stand behind the counter.

  He followed her, as did Calliope, her eyes bright and full of curiosity.

  “What do you want?” Sabine asked, her voice lowered to a whisper to avoid disturbing her other customers.

  He chuckled, then met the gaze of her aunt. “The lady interrupts my game of poker last evening, completely distracts me, then makes a wild wager, and she wants to know why I would want to speak with her.” He leaned against the counter and flashed a brilliant smile at Calliope. “Would you not be the least bit curious?”

  “I would indeed, my lord,” Calliope said in agreement.

  Sabine leveled her gaze on her aunt. “You are not helping.” She pushed her with one finger. “Will you put the rest of the stock out? And keep Agnes and Lydia in the back.”

  Calliope smiled at them both, then disappeared behind the curtain.

  “You own this establishment?” he asked. He glanced at the rest of the storefront, then back at her.

  “I do.” Well, she and her aunts did together.

  “Beauty aids and hair tonic.” He picked up a jar, eyed it, then set it down. “Interesting.”

  Calliope came back around the curtain, an armful of jars balanced precariously. “Carry on,” she said as she passed. “Don’t mind me none.”

  “Are you going to tell me why you want my map?” He offered a smile, one so piercing she feared her knees might buckle.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered. She squared her shoulders. “I don’t believe I owe you an explanation.” Her voice came out with more bravado than she felt.

  “You think not?”

  “I do. My lord,” she added, forcing herself to be polite. Her throat was dry as she licked her lips.

  “You may call me Max.” He pulled her hand to him and placed a kiss on the top of her wrist.

  Sabine momentarily got caught in the blue trance of his gaze, then jerked her hand back. “I don’t believe I shall call you anything. Is there something else I can assist you with?” She wanted him out of her shop. Though she did need his map, discussing the map or anything else related to Atlantis was far too dangerous with other customers about.

  She supposed she could simply ask him if she could see it, but at what cost? Last night, with a simple wager, he’d requested a kiss. What more would he require for a look at the map? Not to mention she could easily tell from this conversation that he was a curious sort. He would have questions. Questions she could not answer.

  Besides, the more she thought about her plan, the more certain she was that tonight she would sneak into his house. “Perhaps you need some hair tonic? Our products have been known to invigorate new growth.”

  Smiling at her again, he said, “Trust me. I’m quite vigorous.”

  She stepped away from the counter. “Then I suppose that shall be all.”

  He grabbed her arm and stilled her. His rich azure eyes met hers and did not waver. Was this to be some sort of contest? She always had a difficult time walking away from a challenge. Fair enough, she met his stare and did not move. She could outlast him. The corners of his lips tipped in a smile.

  Before either of them could speak again, the tiny bells rang through the shop. Sabine looked away. Customers were a priority over her silly pride.

  A woman entered and hadn’t even closed the door behind her before speaking. “Well, well, well, the Marquess of Lindberg. I certainly hadn’t expected to see you,” the woman purred as she stepped forward, her kohl-lined eyes roaming boldly over the marquess. Her lips were painted with red rouge, drawing attention to their fullness. She was a tall woman. Unlike most women of height, she was not lithe or overly thin, but lush and curvaceous, soft and round in all the appropriate places. No doubt a much-admired creature among the men of London.

  He turned at the sound of her voice. “Cassandra, you know there is no need for such formalities.”

  She sauntered forward, then held her hand out to him. As he leaned over it, she positively glowed. “Max, it’s been far too long.”

  “Has it?” he said playfully. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “Surely you know,” she said. “Tobias’s is fast becoming the most sought-after beauty product in all of London.”

  For the time being, it appeared that Sabine and the marquess were finished with their brief confrontation. The interlude wouldn’t last long, though. Eventually this woman would leave the shop, and the marquess would continue his questions. She might not know him, but Sabine could tell that Max Barrett was not a man who gave up all that easily.

  “May I help you with anything today?” Sabine asked. Intentionally she faced the woman, putting her back to the marquess. “We have many products designed for the modern woman; which did you have in mind?”

  Cassandra turned her icy gaze to Sabine. “The Tobias Miracle Crème is the only item I require,” she said, then she shifted her attention back to Max.

  Sabine ignored the woman’s superior tone. “How many jars would you like?”

  “If it’s as good as I’ve heard, I should probably start with several.” Cassandra touched her pale blonde locks and smiled coolly. “You’ve been selling out, yes?”

  “Every day for several weeks.” Sabine couldn’t help noticing how the marquess app
eared rather amused, standing there with his smug smile as he looked from one woman to the other.

  “Three will be good then.” The woman held up three long fingers, but never once met Sabine’s eyes.

  “Whatever are you doing in here?” Cassandra asked Max. “Buying a gift for a new love?” She ran a finger down the marquess’s arm.

  Sabine went about packaging the three jars, all the while watching their exchange.

  “A friend’s wife, actually,” he said.

  Sabine was amazed at how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. She’d have to remember that in her future dealings with him. Not that she planned on having any.

  “It’s her birthday,” he added with a smile.

  “Lovely,” Cassandra said. “How very considerate of you.”

  Now at least Sabine knew that the man was not married. It mattered not, though she supposed it was nice to know she hadn’t kissed a married man.

  “Madam,” Sabine said as she held out the bag with the three jars.

  Cassandra sauntered over to the counter and counted out her money, then instead of putting it in Sabine’s outstretched hand, she dropped it onto the countertop. As she turned to leave, she paused and leaned in close to Max’s ear and whispered something. With a saucy smile, she made her way out of the shop’s door.

  He turned to face Sabine once again, and there on his left cheek was the perfect imprint of the woman’s red lips.

  Sabine chuckled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. Let him walk around London with rouge on his cheek. “Friend of yours?”

  He paused and then recognition lit his eyes. “Ah, Cassandra, she was a”—he paused—“friend. I suppose you could call her that.”

  Clearly they had been more than merely friends at some point. For reasons she did not want to consider, her amusement went sour in her stomach. He could have all the friends in the world, and with his dashing good looks, probably did.