Page 32 of Masquerade

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Liam followed Georgeinto his boss’ comfortable living room. Large and airy, it occupied one corner of the house. The two external walls sported large French doors, one set opening onto extensive back gardens while the second set overlooked a well-tended, side courtyard. Tonight, those doors were closed against the early evening chill. Kate was sitting at one end of a sofa facing the door he’d come through. When his glance met hers, they could have been alone. The growing bond between them nudged against the solid weight of disillusion he’d been carrying for too long.

“Alone, Kate?” George asked.

“Fran had to check something in the kitchen,” Kate said. “Refused all offers of help.”

“That sounds like Fran,” George waved a hand. “Excuse me. I’ll just follow these fragrant smells and find my wife. Then I’ll be right back.”

Liam gave Kate’s outfit a swift inventory. Her usual woollen skirt and dark tights were replaced by burnished-green trousers that appeared to follow the lines of her body. Soft suede shoes peeked from beneath them, a contrast to the neat short boots he’d last seen her wearing. Instead of a heavy sweater, she wore some sort of ivory knitted top he’d enjoy peeling off her.

“A passable imitation of Anna.” Liam indulged his wish to simply be near her, joining her on the sofa. Her subtle scent teased his nostrils, and he fought the urge to nuzzle behind her ear seeking its source.

“What did I miss?” She flashed him a coquettish look.

CHAPTER SIX

“You’ve got her smart-aleck look down pat.” Liam’s fingers itched to tangle in the thick waves of hair falling to her shoulders. “You haven’t dyed it yet.”

He lifted a hand to catch a strand. The soft texture threw him back to their outrageously memorable moment in the library. Her storytelling had evoked a sense of danger; a woman on the run and a male librarian who was a superhero in disguise. He’d fought a primitive need to unwrap his prim librarian. Protecting her was the first step to mutual pleasure. She’d smelled delicious, like now. Her taste had left him wanting more. She’d moaned the word more in his arms that night, and he’d stopped while he still could.

“You smell like Kate, not Anna. Fresh, with a hint of sweet gardenia. Not all Arabian Nights with its heavy patchouli.”

“She changes her perfume with her mood.” Kate leaned back against the plump sofa cushion. “I’ll stick to mine.”

He’d know her without her personal perfume.

“I miss the glasses, although I guess like her, you’re wearing contact lenses or something?” The discreet, round frames incited the worst of his imagination.

“‘Or something’,” she agreed.

“Today I’d believe you were the Genosearch model.” George studied her from the doorway. “Please put any clothes you need to buy for this charade on expenses.”

“Thank you, but there’s no need. Anna loves the idea of me impersonating her. She’s given mecarte blancheto help myself to her wardrobe.”

“Good.” George sank into the sofa opposite. “Let’s do a recap?”

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