Montana Sky

mouth told Tess that the underlying reason for her visit was all too obvious. At least to another female. “Good night, Señorita Mercy.”
    “Good night, Señora Cruz.” And Tess chuckled to herself as the door closed between them and she was left alone in the quiet hall.
    Bright geometric-patterned rugs over dark wood floors, clever pen-and-ink sketches on ivory-toned walls. Lovely dried-flower arrangements in brass urns—that would be the señora’s touch, Tess assumed as she wandered.
    A fire was burning nicely in the living room, simmering in a stone hearth beneath a stone mantel on which stood pewter candlesticks and a collection of intriguing paperweights. The furniture was wide and deeply cushioned and masculine. Dark colors to contrast with light walls and the bright rugs.
    An interesting mix, Tess decided. Simple, male, yet pleasing to the eye.
    She caught the low strains of a Mozart concerto as she walked closer to the open office door.
    And there he was, all gangling and sexy and Jimmy Stewart-ish in a high-backed leather chair behind a big oak desk. The desk lamp slanted light over his hands as he made notations on a yellow legal pad. His brow was knotted, his tie loose, his hair, all that thick gold of it, mussed. From his own hands, she noted, as he raked his fingers through it.
    Well, well, she thought, just feel my heart go pitty-pat. Amused at herself, she watched him another minute, pleased to be able to study him when he was working and unaware of her.
    The room was filled with books, and a single mug of coffee sat at his elbow while the lovely music murmured in the background.
    Nate, she decided, giving her hair a brief stroke, you’re a goner.
    “Well, good evening, Lawyer Torrence.” Well aware that she was posed in the doorway, she smiled slowly as his head jerked up, as his eyes cleared of business, then surprise, and focused.
    “Well, hello, Miz Mercy.” Tension whipped into him as he saw her there, snow still lightly dusted over her hair and the shoulders of her coat. That tension increased when he saw the secret female smile on her lips, but he leaned back in his chair like a man perfectly at ease. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
    “I hope so. And I hope I’m not interrupting something vitally important.”
    “Not vital.” The notes he’d been taking had already gone completely out of his mind.
    “Señora Cruz let me in.” She started toward the desk, thinking of the wildcat. She would take a page from the feline book and toy with her prey before moving in for the kill. “Your housekeeper.”
    “My keeper.” He was quite simply baffled. Should he get up, offer her a drink, stay where he was? Why the hell was she looking at him as though she was already licking the remains of him from her lips? “Maria and her husband,Miguel, keep things running around here. Is this a social visit, Tess, or do you need a lawyer?”
    “Social, for the moment. Completely social.” She slipped off her coat and watched his eyes flicker. Yes, she concluded, the dress was definitely a success. “To be honest, I needed to get out of the house.” She draped her coat over the back of a chair, then eased a hip onto the corner of his desk, letting the skirt slide sneakily up her thigh. “A little cabin fever.”
    “It happens.” He hadn’t forgotten her legs, but it had been a while since he’d seen them in anything but jeans or thick wool pants. Displayed in sheer hose to well above the knee, they made his mouth go dry. “Can I get you a drink?”
    “That would be lovely.” She crossed her legs, slowly. Another sneaky slide. “What have you got?”
    “Ah . . .” He couldn’t remember, and felt like an idiot.
    Better and better, she decided, and slithered off the desk. “I’ll just see for myself, shall I?” She walked to the decanters on a cabinet across the room and chose vermouth. “Would you like one?”
    “Sure, thanks.” He nudged the coffee aside. Caffeine sure as hell wasn’t going to get him through this. “I haven’t been able to get over for a couple of days. How are things?”
    “Quiet.” She poured two glasses, brought them to the desk. After handing Nate his, she slipped onto the desk again, on his side. “Though festive.” She leaned down, just a bit, tapped her glass to his. “Happy holidays. In fact . . .” She took a small sip. “That’s one of the reasons I came by.” Reaching over, she picked up the package she’d put on the desk.