House of Midnight Fantasies. KRISTI GOLD

      She turned her attention from the page to him. “You haven’t read it?”

      “Yes, I have. But I want to hear your voice.”

      His voice was so indisputably sensuous, so compelling that Selene couldn’t think of one argument. She turned and laid the journal open on the desk while he began pacing the room once more. After clearing her throat, she began to read.

      “‘This afternoon, I again met Z. at the abandoned sharecropper’s cabin near the swamp at his plantation. Should my father discover I am keeping company with his enemy, he would be furious. If he knew what I have done, he would surely kill him.’”

      Selene paused and glanced back at Adrien to find him no more than a foot away. “Who wrote this?”

      “I don’t know. I came across it one day a few months ago.”

      “I’m wondering if maybe the woman named Grace in the portrait downstairs is the author.”

      “That’s possible,” he said. “Keep going.”

      Selene went back to the journal, driven by her need to know more about the unidentified author’s rendezvous. “‘I have given freely of my affections to Z., accepted his stolen kisses. He spoke to me about the ways between a man and a woman, and told me things that any proper lady would never consider. Yet I listened, and then I begged him to show me.’”

      Again she glanced back at Adrien only to discover he’d moved closer. “I’m feeling a bit like a voyeur.”

      “I think it’s an interesting commentary on the mores of the past,” he said. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, hand it to me and I’ll read it.”

      She noted the challenge in his tone, and she intended to answer it. After all, they were both adults, and she highly doubted anything written in this journal would compare to what was featured in modern literature in terms of sexuality. “I’ll do it.”

      After drawing in a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the journal entry. “‘In Z.’s arms, I am a wanton. I barely recognize myself. I allowed him to lower my chemise, allowed him to touch my breasts. Never before have I experienced such pleasure. Never before have I been so open or so free. I wanted more. I wanted all that he could give me.’”

      Selene’s words faltered when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Adrien’s hand. As his fingertips idled over her bare arm, she tried to ignore the rhythmic, enticing motion. Tried to disregard the frisson of pleasure brought about by his touch. “Continue,” he whispered. “It only gets better.”

      Good judgment failed Selene and so did her resolve to avoid this very thing. “‘He lifted my skirt and slid his hand beneath my drawers. He touched my most secret place, touched me in ways I had never imagined. My body was no longer mine. It belonged to him….’”

      Adrien chose that moment to slide his hand down Selene’s hip, brushing her pelvis briefly before settling his palm on her lower abdomen. She studied his golden skin against her white slacks, the width of his hand, his blunt fingers. He moved completely against her, his solid chest meeting her back.

      She only had enough strength to close the journal and mutter, “That’s enough for now.” But she didn’t push his hand away. Didn’t scold him. Didn’t move.

      “It’s not enough.”

      As if he’d bound her with invisible twine and gave it a tug, she slowly turned to face him. She knew exactly what he planned to do when the image flashed in her mind a split second before he lowered his head.

      The minute Adrien’s mouth met hers, Selene stepped into a sensory minefield, bombarded by his subtle, clean scent, the taste of scotch on his lips, the suggestive foray of his tongue against hers. And suddenly it seemed she’d melted into his body, into his soul, experiencing his pleasure as well as her own. Because of this psychic communion, she also knew he needed more from her, wanted more from her.

      Still, she had no desire to escape him, no will left to fight. No cause to loosen the grasp she now had on his shoulders even though she’d lost all grip on reality. But the mental as well as the physical connection ended when he stepped back and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

      “My apologies,” he said. “I forgot myself for a few minutes.”

      As far as Selene was concerned, he hadn’t forgotten a thing. The kiss had been part of a carefully crafted plan of seduction, and she’d walked right into his trap without a moment’s hesitation.

      She reached back, picked up the journal from the desk and tapped it against her open palm. “I’m going to read the rest of this later, and we’ll forget what just happened.”

      He backed up a few steps and hid his hands in pockets again. “Go ahead and try to forget it.”

      I won’t….

      His thought came to Selene as sharp as a dagger, traveled along the mental passage connecting her mind with his. “We need to maintain a professional relationship.”

      He brandished his grin like a pirate wielding a sword, cutting her determination to shreds. “A little late for that.”

      All heaven and hell might break loose if she didn’t escape that instant. Self-preservation sent her to the door, clutching the journal to her chest. “I’m going to my room now.”

      “One more thing, Selene.”

      The soft sound of her name sliding from his lips acted on her like a potent magnet, drawing her around to face him, where she found him holding out a cardboard tube. “What’s that?”

      “The plans for the house.”

      She moved only close enough to take the tube from his grasp. “Thank you.”

      “And let me set you straight on something. I didn’t hire you. Ella did. As far as I’m concerned, you work for her, not me. Which means we don’t have a professional relationship. In fact, if I’d had my way, you would already be gone.”

      Selene was so incredulous she almost couldn’t speak. “Is that what this whole thing is all about? You’re trying to drive me away?”