Someone Irresistible (16 page)

The problem, though, was that he hadn’t attempted to kiss her again since that glorious afternoon, and it wasn’t for lack of trying on her part.

She had, she believed, done her best to tempt him, wearing subtle perfume, her most becoming gowns that offered just a slight, enticing peek of suggestive undergarments, sitting as close to him as possible.

Nothing worked. Their conversations had been superficial as well, and he’d been reluctant to open to her, to trust her. He’d seemed completely immune to her charms since that extraordinary kiss in her studio, and she was beginning to wonder just how obvious she needed to be. They’d finished the clay sculpture last week, and even that she’d purposely created at an almost conspicuously slow pace. Now they’d begun the real work on the larger, life-size model that required the most detail and precision, and when that was completed he would, for all purposes, be finished with her. It had taken her two weeks to decide she didn’t want that. But how could she get him to act again on their shared attraction in the short time they had left together?

She could be more aggressive, she supposed, and go after what she desired, but she was starting to doubt that Nathan would respond as men usually did. The banquet was only a little more than a month away and after that Mimi feared he’d want nothing more to do with her. And always, regardless of what happened between them, in the back of their minds, would be the memory of his professional disgrace, and the ancient jawbone at the center of it, now draped in black velvet and sitting behind boxes one floor above in her very home.

Groaning, Mimi draped a forearm over her closed eyes and sank deeper into her pillows, scooting down farther beneath her coverlet.

She just didn’t know how much information about that terrible night to reveal to him. Originally she’d agreed to sculpt the beast because of his overly rude accusations toward her father. Now, after weeks in his imposing, albeit charming, presence she felt doubts seeping in. Every day she remembered what she admired about the Nathan she once knew, and she liked it. Every day she wanted more and more to help him recover what had been stolen from him. Unfortunately, the treasured jawbone in her possession was the only real, solid evidence that would, if exposed, prove to the scientific world that he had been truthful about his find, and more important, that he had been

purposefully wronged that night in the Crystal Palace. But by her doing so she would also be revealing secrets long kept, throwing her own family into the depths of social disgrace. The decisions she needed to make regarding her impending actions were all coming much too quickly and weighed heavily upon her shoulders.

Deciding she’d lounged more than would be considered usual for her, Mimi finally braved the cold floor at last with her bare feet.

Dressing quickly in black undergarments and her purple gown, she splashed cold water on her face, rinsed her mouth, combed her hair, and braided it in two parts, which she wound into loops around her ears. She then made her way to the kitchen, where she ate only a half piece of toast with strawberry jam and drank a cup of strong tea with milk and sugar, her mind caught up in a storm of contemplation over her predicament, mostly regarding whether or not she would kiss Nathan again today.

At precisely ten minutes past ten, while discussing with her housekeeper, Glenda Simmons, the decision to sell some of the finer china they rarely used to pay for new window dressings that everyone
would
see once the black was replaced again with color, Stella politely informed her that Professor Price had arrived.

Mimi felt the quickening thud in her breast and admonished herself to ignore it. Just the mention of his name made her react physically, and she realized with disgust at herself that she’d never reacted like this toward another man. Not even Carter.

With a polite and polished air, she glided into the parlor where Nathan awaited her, her breath catching as usual at just the sight of him. He stood by the grate, staring down at the small coal fire as he absorbed the warmth of it, arms crossed over his large, fine chest, all muscle and man he couldn’t possibly conceal beneath dark, genteel clothing.

Planting a pleasant smile on her mouth, Mimi disregarded the rush of heat to her face and clasped her hands behind her back.

“Good morning, Nathan,” she said, stepping toward him.

He turned and quite intentionally, and lingeringly, looked her up and down. She felt totally exposed, keenly thrilled, and utterly satisfied.

“Good morning, Mimi,” he replied in a deep, soft murmur, his gaze at last meeting hers and penetrating it.

She paused in stride, not wanting to get too close. After an uncomfortable moment, she glanced at his wide, perfect chest. “Are you ready to work?”

He grinned, then leaned over to lift something from the floor, hidden

behind the settee. “I’m at your discretion, madam.”

Her skin burned from that insinuation, but she refused to turn away.

Crossing her arms over her breasts, she glanced down to his hand, in which he now carried a large white basket covered with a square linen cloth in deep burgundy.

“You brought… your own tools, Nathan?” she asked wryly.

His lips twisted into a devilish smile, and he nodded once toward the basket. “A picnic for us.”

Her heart sank and her palms grew moist as she considered all the implications. The gesture was sweet and perfect, and impossible. How could he not know that?

She took a deep breath, feeling awful to dampen an eagerness for her company that she would otherwise relish. She had no choice, however, but to decline. “That’s very generous and thoughtful of you, Nathan,”

she said at length. “It’s a lovely idea, but I cannot picnic with you. It would be… unseemly in my situation.”

His smile faded as the lines on his face grew noticeably taut, and gradually he lowered the basket to the seat of the settee. But his sharp gaze never strayed from hers.

“I’m well aware of the social restrictions in your position, Mimi,” he replied coolly. “I simply thought maybe you and I could later eat luncheon in your garden. You said once that you miss picnics. It’s a nice day so I thought I’d bring one to you.”

She couldn’t believe he’d done this for her, and she melted within, visibly sinking into her corset. “Oh, Nathan,” she said through a softened sigh, “that’s—that’s a wonderful suggestion.”

“Yes, I know,” he interjected blandly.

Slowly, she grinned from his sweetness, his kindness, stepping closer so that she stood only a foot away from him, looking up to his face.

“Under all that muscle and intelligence, you’re still a man, aren’t you?

Full of arrogance and reserve.”

“And tired of feeling such hunger every time I leave you, Mimi,” he soothed. “I would very much like to stay today.”

His suggestiveness left her breathless, and fairly gloating inside.

“Well, we certainly can’t have you walking out so abruptly again. A picnic by the fountain it is.”

She watched his eyes darken with a mischief she all but felt herself.

Then with a smugness she hadn’t experienced in ages, she abruptly turned on her heel, hands clasped behind her back and began walking toward her studio, Nathan following closely behind her.

“It’ll be cold outside,” she added with challenge.

He snorted—or at least she thought it might be a snort.

“Wear a mantle.”

She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at him. “And you?”

“I’m used to the weather.”

“Oh, please, Professor,” she chided, stepping into her darkened studio and walking to the drapes on the far wall. “Don’t you own a coat of some kind?”

“No.”

She stopped short and turned. “You own nothing for winter wear?”

“I didn’t need any in the south of France, Mimi.”

Yes, he would have, and she knew it. He would have needed the protection at least for winter nights, even there. But he was completely serious, and she didn’t know what to say for a moment.

He stood in the doorway, the basket placed on the counter to his side, eyeing her tentatively. “I was hoping,” he said slowly, “that I could sit very close to you instead.”

Her nerves jumped at the thought, from the deep, seductive timbre of his voice, and she swiftly turned away from his probing eyes, hoping to hide how she suddenly oozed with longing from such simple words.

She felt his lingering stare on her back as she lifted the russet colored drapes and pulled them to the side to allow the sunshine to flow through the tall windows.

“I suppose I could always lend you one of Carter’s—”

“No.”

The sharp, vehement protest made her whirl around to look at him again. He stood stiffly, arms held so tightly at his sides she could see the muscles bunch beneath his shirt, his eyes thunderous as they held her own. That such an innocent gesture on her part could anger him so intensely took her aback and she felt slightly affronted.

“I only meant that while you are here you could borrow—”

“I will not borrow anything that belonged to your late husband, Mimi,” he cut in tersely. “I refuse, so we will not discuss it.”

She faced him squarely, hands on her hips, annoyed at his unwillingness to be logical where men always seemed to be. And then she questioned her initial response. Did he react so bitterly because of professional or personal jealousy he felt for Carter? Or something more, something deeper that went to the place in each man that held his wealth of pride and dignity. Possibly both, but she wouldn’t argue his

determination because she doubted she would win.

“I see,” she quipped in concession, raising her chin just enough to let him know she thought his rejection of her offer utterly ridiculous. “Then since I doubt my lavender woolen shawl would be suitable to your style, you may sit as close to me as you like for needed warmth. I certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible for you catching your death in my garden.”

He laughed deeply at that, dissolving the tension between them instantly. Hiding a triumphant smile on her face, Mimi walked to her sculpture, lifted it carefully, then carried it to the table where they began their morning work.

Nathan watched her spread out the linen cloth on a spot of grass near the fountain then sit upon it gracefully, spreading her skirts out and away from her legs, next to which he expected to sit. The day proved to be perfect for late November, the sun shining high in the sky and only a gentle breeze to be felt around them, though the hedges and trees helped to seclude the area. The air was indeed chilly, but not unbearably so, and with the sun on his back, Nathan hardly felt it. His blood ran so hot in his veins now anyway it didn’t matter. Looking at Mimi did that to him.

It had been a difficult two weeks for him. She’d been beside him for hours on end, smelling like Mimi did, wearing clothing to entice, whether she knew it or not, and his fingers had itched to undress her, carry her to her settee, and probe her with his hands and mouth until she sighed. Or screamed. Nathan wondered if she screamed when she climaxed, and for the last two weeks he’d been unable to think of little else. After long hours of contemplation he decided that she did. She had to. It would be just like Mimi to scream, and even now his heart thudded hard in his chest with the notion of finding out with certainty.

But he wouldn’t. She was out of reach, and had to stay that way, and teasing her about sitting close to her, and his continued hunger for her, was wrong. As much as he wanted to get physically intimate with the lovely widow, he had to remain detached, for his good as well as hers.

Their shared kiss of two weeks ago had been unexpected, a moment of abandonment, and an amazing revelation to him—that he still wanted her and that she would respond with an unquenchable eagerness. But in another month’s time his name would be restored, to the detriment of her father, who would likely be ruined. That prospect now troubled him more than he could put into words, which, in turn, made him angry.

He’d come back to London with a far-reaching purpose and his feelings for Mimi, whatever those were exactly, were getting in the way. He

should have never allowed that to happen.

He would not kiss her again, however much he wanted to take her to his bed. His vivid dreams of watching her cry out with her release, under his scorching, aching body, would have to remain just that.

“My goodness, you’re so serious, Nathan,” Mimi teased with a smile, cutting into his erotic thoughts as she opened the basket.

He lowered himself to the grass beside her, stretching one leg out, the other raised so he could rest his elbow on his knee in a pose of relaxed indifference, hoping to conceal his erection. She’d been married, and would know exactly what it was if she looked closely, which would be thoroughly embarrassing for him under the circumstances.

“I was just thinking you look very…” He hesitated for the right word, watching her brows lift in question as she waited.

“Very what?”

Delicious
. “Nice…” he said, flicking his wrist in her direction. “In purple.”

She grinned and went back to lifting items from the basket. “Thank you. I think you look very
nice
without a coat to cover your marvelous physique. It’s easy to look at you like this.”

Nathan felt the steady rise in his pulse—and stupidly giddy from that, which irritated him because giddy wasn’t something men were supposed to feel. But he also realized, very matter-of-factly, that he’d never been so sweetly complimented by a female. Or maybe he had, but this was the first compliment to come from Mimi’s lips, and for reasons unknown, that’s what mattered to him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied smoothly, picking a blade of grass and twirling it with his fingers and thumb.

“I’ve always thought so, Nathan,” she admitted without pretense.

“You’re smart and attractive. I’m surprised you haven’t married.”

He paused again, uncertain how to respond to an innocent statement he was certain required an answer.

“I haven’t the time, really, or didn’t have,” he replied blandly, trying to remain aloof about such a subject, as a man should in the presence of a lady.