Free As Luck Would Have It by Alissa Johnson

present were considered eloquent speakers, often in demand for dinner parties and soirees. Rarely, if ever, were they gainsaid, and never by a young unmarried woman.
    And yet here she was, trading barbs with men and women of means and rank. And winning. For some inexplicable reason, he felt like crowing at her victory. As if he were somehow responsible for her cleverness. For her. It was a ridiculous notion to be sure. He was there to discover Loudor’s secrets, and she was nothing more than a means to that end. He would do well to remember that.
    And God knew he was trying, but it was so easy to become lost in her every expression. The lilt of her voice, the curve of her neck, the way she wrinkled her nose when she was annoyed.
    And then there were her lips.
    Never had he seen a woman so adept at expressing her emotions with her lips. She twisted them, pursed them, parted them, licked them. And Alex found each contortion more erotic than the last. He caught himself wondering what it would be like to press his own mouth over hers and feel those delightful movements with his lips, his tongue—
    “Is something wrong?” she inquired softly.
    “Hmm? Wrong?” he responded, only half hearing her.
    “Yes, wrong. You’re looking at me most peculiarly.”
    “Sorry, was I?”
    “Yes, you are. ”
    “How peculiar.”
    “So I believe I said. Peculiar. Are you unwell?”
    He snapped back with alarming speed. Unwell? Good Lord, is that what he looked like when consumed with desire? Unwell?
    “I’m quite all right,” he stated with a little more conviction than was probably necessary. “Merely lost in thought.”
    “Oh, what about?”
    “About? Well, I…er…”
    Think, man, think.
    I’d very much like to nibble on the corner of your mouth .
    “The gardens are rather splendid for this time of year.”
    Oh, brilliant .
    Sophie glanced around as if confirming something. “We’re indoors.”
    “So we are.”
    “At my town house.”
    “Also true.”
    “And you were looking at me.”
    “So I was, but you are right in front of me, and the gardens are not. As I said, I was lost in thought.”
    “I see,” she said slowly, clearly not seeing, because she was looking at him as if she still expected he might be feverish.
    Alex was vastly relieved to finally make it through the French doors and into the dining room. He was even happier to discover that Sophie had been seated next to him rather than across the table. Given half the opportunity—and he rather thought facing her for the next two or three hours would certainly be that—he’d gaze at her like some pathetic love-struck loon all evening. As it was, he was bound to havea sore neck tomorrow from turning his head to the side so often. If nothing else, the seating required that he look away if he wanted to eat without dribbling food on himself— which he most certainly did. And in the end, he managed not to disgrace himself.

Seven
    A lex had intended to spend the time in his opera box wooing the lovely Sophie. In fact, he had spent the two days since the dinner party carefully calculating his plan of attack. It was, after all, his mission to find a way into her good favor. He would whisper, wink, manage a few light but well-placed touches, and otherwise be on his best rogue’s behavior. The combination of music, excitement, and his attentions had never failed to secure his conquests.
    Five minutes into the first act, Alex realized he would have to change tactics.
    Sophie appeared completely enraptured by the performance. She was ignoring him entirely, her eyes never leaving the proceedings on stage.
    Alex was at a complete loss as how to proceed. No one came to the opera to actually watch the opera. They came to see and be seen, to gossip, to flirt. That’s what he had the damn box for! He didn’t even like the opera.
    He groaned inwardly and tried to get more comfortable in his seat. At least his view of the stage required that he look past Sophie’s