Free Seven Nights to Forever by Evangeline Collins Page A

hand.
    Her gaze traveled over his face once again, studying him. The barest hint of a frown pulled her fine brows.
    “Is something the matter?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “Well, something’s on your mind.” That much was obvious.
    “I . . .” She lifted one shoulder, dropping her gaze to their joined hands. “I did not expect you to walk through the door tonight.” The tone of her voice revealed nothing about her thoughts on the matter.
    “To be honest, I didn’t anticipate returning, either. It’s not something I had planned yesterday. But here I am. Is it a problem that I returned?”
    “No.”
    That “no” had come much too easily, as though automatically. A required response, one not her own. “Would you have preferred it if I had not returned? I’ll leave now if you’d like. It is not my wish to impose.”
    With her free hand, she gave her amber skirt a slight tug, adjusting it. Her silence hung between them. As good as a yes.
    At least she did not try to fool him with a lie. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her acquiescing because of the pound notes he had paid the madam. The truth, while painful, was much preferable.
    She had not wanted to see him again.
    Doing his best to keep the stark, sinking disappointment from revealing itself, he made to get to his feet.
    Her grip tightened on his hand. “Don’t leave.”
    Breath held, he looked at her askance.
    “My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply . . .” She shook her head, clearly struggling to explain herself. With a little shrug, she ducked her chin. “You threw me off balance. I thought for certain you would never return.”
    “Why?”
    “You do not seem the type of man to frequent such establishments.”
    “I don’t. This is the only one that contains you.”
    She glanced up at him through her lashes and captured the edge of her plump bottom lip between her teeth, a question lurking in her light blue eyes.
    “Yes?” he queried.
    “You are tense tonight.”
    He highly doubted that was what had been on her mind a second ago. “Versus last night?”
    “That was different. And you weren’t so tense the entire night.” She arched a delicate brow. “But . . . you’re holding yourself differently.”
    “I spent the greater part of the early afternoon sorting a new load of timber in the warehouse.” And he had the sore muscles to prove it. Not that he made a habit of lazing about. If he wasn’t behind his desk, Decker knew to look for him in the warehouse. But he’d challenge even the strongest of men not to feel the aftereffects of the work he’d done that afternoon. In hindsight, he had likely pushed harder than he should have, but mind-numbing physical labor pushed thoughts of Amelia out of his head like nothing else could.
    A knock sounded on the door. She crossed the room, returning with a silver tray bearing a stout white porcelain pot and two cups. The cups clinked lightly on their saucers as she set the tray on the side table. “Couldn’t you hire someone to do the work for you?” All traces of her earlier discomposure were gone. Her movements were efficient yet graceful as she poured him a cup of coffee.
    She was bent at the waist, displaying her luscious breasts to their best advantage. He dug his fingers into the cushion at his hip, resisting the urge to trace the valley between them, to cup the lush, ivory swells spilling from her bodice, to have the weight of them in his palm.
    He felt her gaze on him and looked up, dragging his attention from her chest and back to her question. “I am better able to negotiate the sale if I am familiar with the goods. The choicest timbers fetch the best prices. Though I probably should have asked for more help. I doubt the two who assisted me will be standing tomorrow.”
    “For you,” she murmured, handing him the cup. She walked around behind the settee as he took a sip. He felt her presence behind him the instant before small hands rested on his shoulders and began to knead.