Written In The Heart. Judith Stacy

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СКАЧАТЬ she’d lived in France for quite a while. But no man had ever suggested making love to her—certainly not on a desktop. It was scandalous. Outrageous.

      Intriguing and a little titillating.

      Caroline’s cheeks burned hotter. What had Stephen intended to wear?

      She gasped aloud at her unladylike thought and the mental image it conjured up. Stephen was a big man. If the whispered gossip she’d heard were true, that meant he—

      Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose, forbidding herself to think any further. At least on the subject of Stephen Monterey. Right now she had pressing problems to deal with.

      She looked around the neighborhood at all the beautiful homes and knew she was still on West Adams Boulevard. She hadn’t gotten very far. A block or two, maybe. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t measure distance well through tear-blurred eyes.

      Drawing in a fresh breath, Caroline considered her options. She could approach one of the houses and ask for directions. That, surely, would raise questions about why a woman was alone on the streets at this late hour. She’d already been mistaken for a prostitute once tonight and didn’t want to go through that again.

      If she knew where a police station was she could go there. They could take her home. But what would Aunt Eleanor say when she arrived under police escort? Caroline wasn’t anxious to explain her circumstances to anyone, particularly her aunt.

      Well, she had to do something. She gazed up and down the street in both directions. Maybe if she—

      A man appeared under a streetlamp down the block. Caroline’s breath caught. Good gracious, it was that Stephen Monterey. He’d come after her.

      Caroline hitched up her satchel and took off.

      Running footsteps sounded on the pavement behind her, spurring her to move faster. She heard his voice shouting.

      Her high buttoned shoes and whalebone corset didn’t make the best athletic attire, and her satchel dragged like an anchor, bumping against her thigh. But she couldn’t face that man. Not after what had happened at his house, and certainly not so soon after the thoughts she’d just been entertaining about him.

      “Stop, Miss Sommerfield.”

      He appeared at her side, jogging along with her. Caroline’s heart jumped into her throat.

      “Go away!”

      “No, wait. Stop.”

      “Leave me alone!” Breathless, she hugged her free hand to her stomach. She could hardly keep going.

      “Just stop,” he said. “Please.”

      She slowed simply because she couldn’t take another step. Stephen stopped, too, and it annoyed her that he wasn’t even breathing hard, while she was panting like a steam engine.

      “What do you want?” she demanded.

      “I came to see if you still wanted the job.”

      “Oh! Of all the nerve!” Caroline headed off down the street again.

      “And—” he blocked her path “—and to…apologize.”

      Caroline put her nose in the air and turned her head away.

      “Look, Miss Sommerfield, I was misinformed about your…purpose for coming to my home tonight,” Stephen said. “Richard told me you were just what I needed, so when I saw you I thought—”

      “—that I looked like a common streetwalker?” Caroline tossed her head. “Well, thank you very much.”

      She whirled away and started off again.

      Stephen caught up with her and put himself in front of her, forcing her to stop.

      “No, that is not what I thought,” he said. “It’s just that it’s been a long time since I—”

      Stephen curled his hand into a fist and pressed it against his forehead. “Let me start again. You see, Miss Sommerfield—”

      “Oh, never mind.” Caroline dropped her satchel, finally catching her breath. “It’s my fault, anyway. Not yours.”

      “Your fault?”

      “Yes, mine. Mine, for trusting Mr. Paxton. For being foolish enough to come to your house at night. For thinking you were an upstanding, decent businessman.” Caroline nodded emphatically. “Believe me, I will not make any of those mistakes again.”

      Stephen pushed his fingers through his hair, watching her, obviously holding in words that itched to be spoken. Finally, he said, “Regardless of all that’s happened, Miss Sommerfield, I am in need of a—What are you again?”

      “A graphologist.”

      He waved expansively. “The position is still available. Are you interested in discussing it?”

      Her eyes widened. “You expect me to work for you? Now? After all that’s happened?”

      “Richard thinks you’re good at what you do,” Stephen told her. “But, frankly, that remains to be seen.”

      “You won’t find a better graphologist than me,” Caroline said.

      He doubted he’d find a graphologist at all, actually. But he didn’t want to go hunting for one. Not when he had this one standing in front of him, who was exactly what he needed.

      “Well, are you interested or not?” he asked.

      Caroline pressed her lips together, thinking. Was she being a fool twice in the same night to even consider going back to his house?

      Here in the soft light of the streetlamps, Stephen Monterey didn’t look so intimidating. The breeze had blown his hair over his forehead and his chase after her had disheveled his tuxedo.

      He had apologized. Mix-ups happened; she understood that.

      And she did need the job. Aunt Eleanor had more parties, teas and dinners scheduled, more eligible bachelors to parade her in front of. If one of them actually took an interest in her she’d never fulfill her dream of working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.

      “I don’t have all night to stand around out here, Miss Sommerfield. Are you interested in discussing the job or not?”

      There was something dangerous about Stephen Monterey. Not because of what had nearly happened at his house just now. She wasn’t frightened of him, not in a physical sense. If he’d wanted to hurt her, or force himself on her, he’d had opportunity to do so in his office, and there was nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted at this moment.

      No, the danger in Stephen Monterey was something deeper. Something that could seep into her soul. Caroline couldn’t put a name to it. But it tugged at her, nibbled at her already, though she’d only just met him.

      “All right, look,” Stephen said. “Come back to the house. We’ll discuss the position there.”

      Caroline СКАЧАТЬ