From the Heart

nice, she thought, to feel that rather hard mouth on hers. Just once.
    Downstairs, Slade was closeted in the library. He’d been up since dawn—she was crowding his mind. What crazy impulse had prompted him to ask her out the night before? After downing his fourth cup of coffee, Slade lit a cigarette. For God’s sake, he didn’t have to date the woman to do his job. She was getting to him, he admitted as he pushed a pile of books aside. That low, musical laugh and all that soft blond hair. It was more than that, he thought ruefully. It was her. She was too close to possessing all the things he’d ever wanted in a woman—warmth, generosity, intelligence. And that steamy, almost primitive sexuality you could sense just under the surface. If he kept thinking of her that way, it was going to cloud his objectivity. Even now he was finding himself trying to work out a way to keep her out of the middle.
    When Slade drew on the cigarette, his eyes were hard and opaque. He’d protect her when the time came, expose her if it came to that. But there was no way to keep her out of it. Still, over the mix of leather and dust and smoke, he thought he caught a lingering trace of her scent.
    After evading the cook’s admonishment to put something in her stomach, Jessica drank a hurried cup of coffee. “Where’s David?” she called out when she spotted Betsy, armed with a rag and a bottle of silver polish.
    “He took a walk down to the beach.” His mother harrumphed a bit, but added, “He looks better. I guess the air’ll do him good.”
    “I’ll grab a jacket and check on him.”
    “Long as he doesn’t know that’s what you’re up to.”
    “Betsy!” Jessica feigned offense. “I’m much too good for that.” As the housekeeper snorted, the doorbell sounded. “Go ahead,” Jessica told her. “I’ll get it.” She made a dash for the door. “Michael!” With pleasure, she threw her arms around his neck. “It’s good to have you back.”
    Slade came into the hall in time to see Jessica embraced and kissed. With that low promising laugh, she pressed her cheek against the cheek of a slender, dark-haired man with smooth features and light green eyes. Michael Adams, Slade concluded, after conquering the urge to stride up to the coupleand yank them apart. The description fit. He caught the gleam of a diamond on the man’s pinky as he ran his hand through Jessica’s hair. Soft hands and a sunlamp tan, Slade thought instantly.
    “I’ve missed you, darling.” Michael drew Jessica back far enough to smile into her face.
    She laughed again, touching a hand to his cheek before she stepped out of his arms. “Knowing you, Michael, you were too busy with business and . . . other things to miss anyone. How many broken hearts did you leave in Europe?”
    “I never break them,” Michael claimed before brushing her lips again. “And I did miss you.”
    “Come inside and tell me everything,” she ordered while tucking her arm through his. “The stock you sent back is wonderful, as always. I’ve already sold . . . oh, hello, Slade.” The moment Jessica turned, she saw him. Quickly, potently, his eyes locked on hers. She had to use all of her strength of will not to draw in her breath. Was there a demand in them? she wondered. A question? Confused, she gave a slight shake of her head. What was it he wanted from her? And why was she ready to give it without even knowing what it was?
    “Jessica.” There was a faint smile on his face as he waited.
    “Michael, this is James Sladerman. He’s staying with us for a while and trying to make some order out of the library.”
    “No small job from what I’ve seen of it,” Michael commented. “I hope you’ve got plenty of time.”
    “Enough.”
    Knowing the housekeeper would be close enough to eavesdrop, Jessica stepped away from Michael and called her. “Betsy, could we have coffee in the parlor? Slade, you’ll join us?”
    She had expected him to refuse, but he gave her a slow smile. “Sure.” He didn’t have to look at Michael to see the annoyance before they walked into the parlor.
    “Why, Jessica, what’s the Queen Anne doing here?”
    “Fate,” she told him, then laughed as she sat on the sofa. “I’d meant to ask you to find one for me. When I saw it on the shipping list, I wondered if you were psychic.”
    After studying it for a moment, he nodded. “It certainlysuits this room.” He sat next to Jessica as Slade settled in an armchair.