Free Private North by Tess Oliver Page B

He closed the box and returned it to the secret opening in the book case.
    It had been a long day, and this last event had given me more than enough to think about. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”

Chapter 10
    Music on the computer, an oversized mug of hot cocoa and complete quiet in the house had made for a productive morning. Ethan had joined me for all of an hour before making excuses for his departure. I spent the morning pretending that I wasn’t giving any thought to where Dalton was which was silly since in pretending not to think about him I had to think about him.
    I held a small bag with a shard of pottery that now seemed ridiculously insignificant compared to the gold arm band I’d held the night before. I placed the piece on the desk and entered the numbers and abbreviations into the appropriate fields. The job was getting rather boring, but it still had to better than sitting with the Beauchamps on a river cruise.
    There was a tap on the open door, and I turned around expecting to see Professor North. It was Dalton. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a smile that would leave a lasting impression long after he walked away. “Dad and Ethan are gone, and I’m bored. I was thinking we should do something to entertain ourselves.”
    I leaned back and lifted a brow at him. “Exactly what did you have in mind?”
    “Well, it’s not exactly what I had in mind. That scenario requires a blindfold and a can of whipped cream and far more time than we’ve got.” He waved his hand as if dismissing a vision. “I was thinking gingerbread.”
    “Gingerbread?”
    His long dark lashes gave him a boyish quality that made him that much more heartbreaking. The guy had been blessed with every attribute that could make even level-headed women like me utterly defenseless. “You said you’d wanted to bake.”
    “True. I was picturing myself cutting cookies with my mom, but I guess you’ll do.”
    “Are you sure because we could still try the blindfold idea?”
    “No, gingerbread will be fine.” I stood and leaned my head from side to side to stretch my neck. “I must have been tensing up my shoulders.”
    He stepped into the office. Sometimes, when he only had a few feet to walk, it was easy to forget his painstaking gait. He stopped directly in front of me and motioned for me to turn around.
    I looked at him questioningly.
    “No blindfolds I promise . . . for now. I was going to rub the stiffness out of your shoulders. You’re no good to me if you can’t roll out dough.”
    Reluctantly, I turned around.
    “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t trust me, Sugarplum.”
    “Not a bit,” I said over my shoulder.
    His long, strong fingers pressed down as he massaged my shoulders. “You were right. You must have been tensing your shoulders. They’re like rocks.”
    My eyes shut as his fingers worked along my tight muscles. I had no right to enjoy his touch so much, but heat radiated through every inch of me. His rough fingertips pressed tenderly into the bare skin of my neck, and his calloused thumb stroked along the back of it.
    “Holy crap, you are good at this,” I sighed. Slowly, my entire body relaxed, and I felt like rag doll beneath his touch.
    Then his mouth pressed against my ear. I startled and jumped away from his hands.
    A devilish smile crossed his face. “Most of my customers like it when I finish with that. He motioned toward the door with his head. “Let’s go bake.”
    ***
    The overwhelming scent of cloves and cinnamon filled the kitchen. A cloud of flour floated up from the mixing bowl, and Dalton cleared the air with his hand. “I don’t remember this flour hurricane when I made these with my mom.”
    “You’re turning the mixer on too fast.”
    He leaned over the bowl and turned down the speed. “I guess that makes sense.”
    “I think we have to let the dough chill before we can roll it out.” I leaned back against the counter and watched him as he worked