Page 36 of Winter's Waltz
Chapter 7
Gen had a problem much larger than burned kitchens and an enemy out to destroy her gaming hell before it even opened its doors for business.
It was a tall, handsome, man-shaped problem. With dimples.
And said problem was standing before her, bearing a plate of honey cakes.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he announced as he deposited them upon her desk with a flourish.
Her stomach growled, for the devastation of the fire, which was currently being repaired by the workmen she had hired, meant she had not breakfasted yet this morning. The plate of cakes looked delicious.
“I am working,” she returned, determined to ignore both forms of temptation—marquess and honey cakes.
Gen concentrated on her ledgers. Funds were growing thin thanks to the unexpected expense of reconstructing her kitchens and hiring additional men. She needed to be certain she was leaving herself enough blunt to float the hell.
“Can you not work and eat at the same time?” he asked, not leaving her in peace as she would have wished but rather skirting her desk and settling his arse upon the corner of it.
“Work first, eat later,” she said, refusing to look at him.
Citrus and bay taunted her. Sundenbury’s scent. The scent of seduction.
She had restraint. She tallied the Madeira wine she had recently purchased, enough stores to last at least a full month of operation, by her estimation.
“Just one cake?”
She gritted her teeth and pressed too hard on her quill. The nib broke. She threw her pen upon her ledgers and turned her attention to him at last. She wasn’t sure which she wanted to devour more, the man or the breakfast he had brought her.
This would not do.
She cocked her head, considering him with what she hoped was a glare instead of a leer. “Why is your arse always on my desk, Marquess?”
“I enjoy vexing you.” He grinned.
That was certainly honesty.
She refused to smile back at him. “Because your wits are addled?”
“Because you are beautiful when you are annoyed.” His gaze dipped to her lips. “Beautiful when you are not, as well. But there is something about the flash of fire in your eyes, the way your jaw tightens and your chin goes up, that I find utterly irresistible.”
Oh.
Irresistible? Her?
Gen wished she had not asked. Because now there was a fluttering sensation in her belly. And longing coursing through her.
“When you are surly, it makes me want to kiss you,” he added, voice low with wicked intent.
He was seducing her. It was happening, and she was allowing it.
She found her wits and her voice simultaneously. “I’m too busy for kissing.”
He shook his head slowly, pushing off the desk and coming to her. “You should never be too busy for kissing, Gen.” His hands found hers, and he pulled her to her feet. “Not ever.”
Their fingers were tangled. She should disengage. Punch him in the nose for being so forward. Continue her plan of hiding from him until his month-long sojourn at her gaming hell was at an end. Regain her common sense. Remember that she was Genevieve Winter, and that she had an empire to grow and rule.
But in this moment, all she wanted to do was be the woman holding the Marquess of Sundenbury’s hands. She wanted his mouth on hers. Wanted the heat he made her feel, the desire. Wanted to forget about everything and everyone save him.
“It is good to be busy,” she said, breathless and hating herself over it. “Being busy keeps me from trouble.”
