Free Priceless by Christina Dodd Page A

pounds.” He paused. “Each.”
    Was that humor? Spying the twinkle in his eye, she smiled timidly. Understated and rusty, perhaps, but it was humor. “Have you sold that stock?”
    “No. In fact, I’ve bought more.”
    She smiled more widely, hoping to coax another of those heart-stopping grins from him. “How do you know when to sell?”
    “The coffeehouses on Change Alley are a lively place for information, if a man knows what to listen for. There are informants, some reliable and some not, who’ll sell their knowledge for the right price. There are rumors to sift through.”
    Her glow broke through to him, and his teeth gleamed in another evidence of his pleasure. His smile sapped the strength from her spine, and she slid against the chair back.
    He continued, “An astute man knows what to listen for, and I’ll sell when it’s time. Are you worried about your father’s investments?”
    Intent on the arm he wrapped around her shoulders, on the pressure of his knees against hers, she said, “I didn’t even realize he’d made investments. It’s so unlike him to be wise.”
    “The stock-buying madness has struck the whole country. I would have been surprised if he were exempt.”
    He watched her closely, and she wished she hadn’t revealed so much about her father. She tugged at a loose seam along the ruffle.
    Abruptly changing the subject, Adam asked, “Why were you so startled that I noticed you are attractive?”
    “Attractive?” She mulled over his choice of adjectives. “I think I have reason to be startled that you now think I’m attractive.”
    His half smile acknowledged his guilt. “Haven’t your other admirers been as observant?”
    “No,” she faltered. Should she tell him she’d had no other admirers? Should she ask if he were an admirer? She watched him as he picked up his quill and turned back to her. “No,” she decided. He ran his finger along the edge of the feather as if testing its sharpness, and she gripped the apron in a stranglehold. The small sound of tearing silk dismayed her, and to cover it she asked, “Is the whole world gaining wealth?”
    “Did you wish to speculate?” He touched the tip of the quill to her neck.
    That tiny contact seemed to burn her. As he trailed it along her collarbone, she lost her will to speak, to move, even to breathe.
    “If you wish to trade stocks”—the feather meandered down to the cleft of her bosom—“you’ll find my help most valuable.”
    She swallowed audibly.
    “But of course there is a fee.” His free hand grasped her bare shoulder. “To be paid on demand.” Tossing the quill aside, he leaned closer. “How large your eyes are,” he marveled. “How you stare at me.”
    “I don’t understand half of what you say,” she whispered.
    “Too late to gammon me. You’ve proved you have an unusual intelligence for a woman.” Now both callused palms cupped her shoulders. “I want a kiss.”
    Incredulous, she said, “But you think I’m ugly.”
    “Do I?”
    “You, uh…”
    “Your eyelashes are so long, they must tangle together.” He brushed her lashes in a butterfly touch.
    She closed her eyes and let him embrace her. As he massaged her shoulder blades with his hands, the knots in her muscles eased. He kissed the corners of her mouth, tasting her as if she were a delicacy. “You’re uneasy with me,” he murmured. “I’ve noticed that before.”
    His lips brushed hers with each word before they settled over hers. The contact made her giddy, made her seek air where there was only his. Yet when she opened her mouth, he was there, sliding his tongue in to explore hers. That was odd. She tensed, but his fingers on her chin kept her in place. Was he mocking her?
    No, he seemed to be encouraging her. Shyly she reached out with her tongue and engaged in a miniature struggle. When she lost, she was glad, glad to have him so intimate with her, glad to have him gather her close.
    Yet when his nimble fingers found her