Free Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle by Deborah MacGillivray

women knew going in there was no future with him. It had been for sex, nothing else.
    He wanted something more from B.A. Montgomerie. What that something was, eluded him. Just more . To be defined at a date later.
    Conflicting emotions warred within him, spelling trouble. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Control that was usually second nature wasn’t surfacing.
    Images of that gorgeous body swaying as she lost herself to the music, the way her hair brushed the bottom of her derriere, flashed through his mind. When was the last time he’d seen hair that long? Hands itching, he yearned to fist them in the heavy mass, to see her bent over him lost in passion, it cascading around them.
    “Quick way to rein in, Mershan,” he scoffed.
    His desire—too pale a word for the demon growling within him—might play havoc with his plans. He attacked goals in life with the single-minded focus of laying siege to a medieval fortress. No surrender, no quarter given. Plans had beauty in their precision, similar to the blueprints he drew for skyscrapers. The prospect B.A. could cause problems irritated him.
    Strangely ungrounded, Desmond fought the urge to reach for his cell phone to call his brothers, to check how they were. It grated that he couldn’t have the touchstone of instant contact with the twins, not from this backward island. This had been too long in plotting to let small details such as long blond hair interfere.
    Hearing her soft burr speak to the cat jerked him back to the present. Desmond barely dove into the bed before the half-opened door pushed wide.

    Carrying the tray, B.A. hummed along with Haddaway’s “What Is Love,” repressing the urge to jerk her head to the side like The Roxbury Boys. Pausing at the door, she sucked in a breath to control the pounding of her heart. From dancing like a madwoman, she told herself.
    Who are you kidding? The man upsets your magnetic field, Devil B.A. carped.
    The tray rattled as she placed it on the nightstand. She set aside the salt and pepper shakers, along with the pitcher of grapefruit juice, giving him room to eat. “Mr. Mershan?”
    He pushed up, revealing that to-die-for chest, setting Devil B.A. to chanting Tongue bath!
    Hashing a sexy grin, he asked, “Rather formal, considering we slept together.”
    “It’s the only bed. They left me the cat as chaperone.” B.A. assured herself those bedroom eyes and high-wattage smile did nothing to her knees.
    Maybe because you ‘re looking at his bare chest, Angel B.A. rebuked.
    Man flesh! Devil B.A. rubbed her hands in glee.
    “Some chaperone.” Mershan’s black brow arched, mocking.
    “Watch—sic him, Kitty!” The cat twined between her legs, peeking out from underneath the hem of her gown, a halo above his head. “Bugger, works with the males on the isle.”
    “Dudley has discriminating taste.”
    Maybe felines stick together, she wanted to retort. Instead, she asked, “How do you feel?”
    “Better. Want to look into my eyes?” When he saw she wasn’t rising to his bait, he nodded to the tray. “For me?”
    “A bit of breakfast.” B.A. wanted to kick herself for going to the fuss. She smoothed the duvet across his lap so she could place the tray over it. Or tried. She encountered a definite lump. Blushing, B.A. jumped back as if scalded. Dudley hopped up on the bed, letting her scold him to cover embarrassment. “Shoo, you big mooch.”
    “Do you always treat your cat so? He’s a live teddy bear.”
    “Grizzly would be more apt. And The Cat Dudley is not my cat,” she corrected again.
    “I forgot. Maybe you need to check my eyes—my condition might be worsening.” He assayed the Irish linen, china and the crystal vase holding three bright red roses, so exquisite they seemed artificial. His brow arched a silent comment on the elegant setup as he lifted the vase to his nose. “Beautiful roses. I love red. First time a woman’s given me flowers. I’m touched you went to so much trouble.