Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams Read Online Free Page B

you—you can just take your fine title, your expensive car, and your fancy belt and—and—stow them where you sit!”
    His only answer was a dry chuckle.
    And then, with a sharp metallic snap, his zipper slid free.
    Kacey’s eyes fixed in horrified fascination on that tight square of charcoal wool. “You—you wouldn’t dare! You couldn’t—”
    Hard, work-callused fingers began to pull the zipper.
    Down.
    Lower and lower.
    The fabric parted slowly, inch by inch, to reveal more bronzed skin, sprinkled with springy black hair.
    Hungry skin. All aroused male.
    Kacey’s tongue was wedged in her mouth. Her pulse was out of control. That’s when it hit her.
    There was nothing beneath the cloth—nothing but taut bronzed skin and a mat of dark hair, a denser version of that shadowing his open collar.
    And in a few more seconds he would—
    Suddenly the man’s fingers went still. “You are the call girl I phoned for, aren’t you?”
    Kacey’s eyes widened. A firestorm of fury ripped through her at his cold question. Dear God, he thought she was a—
    She took a ragged breath, focusing her fury on his mocking eyes. Even now she found it difficult to forget that tantalizing V of bronzes skin beneath his hard fingers.
    â€œGet this through your thick skull because I’ll tell you only once,” she hissed. “I’m an art restorer, damn it! Cassandra Edwards sent me to see Lord Draycott. About a project he requested.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed, running thoughtfully over her heaving breasts, noting the taut nipples clearly outlined against the fine lawn of her shirt.
    Exquisite, Nicholas Draycott decided. And even more dangerous than he’d thought.
    Almost too damn hot to handle.
    Almost, he told himself grimly. “What sort of project?” he drawled, clearly skeptical. “A project of Edward Armistead’s perhaps?”
    â€œI’m not at liberty to discuss it,” Kacey countered. “Only with Lord Draycott.”
    The slate-gray eyes narrowed. “Indeed. Only with Lord Draycott, is it? Well, I’m afraid he’s busy. As his estate manager, I’m the one you’ll have to deal with.”
    â€œYou were his estate manager,” Kacey hissed. “When I’m done with you, no one will even open a door to you.”
    â€œSo, the little cat has claws, does it?” Draycott moved closer. “At least we’re getting down to the truth.”
    â€œCall Cassandra, if you doubt my word. Or call that bloody procuress in London and—”
    â€œProcuress. How quaint.”
    â€œOh, I’m sure you know all the proper terms. Having never had dealings in such things before, I confess to complete and total ignorance on that score. My work is rather different, you see. It’s honest work. Work performed out of love rather than greed.”
    â€œYou—an art restorer? Come, come, my dear.” His mocking words hit her like a knife. “When was an artisan ever so lovely? So seductively packaged? No, no, let’s just dispense with the charade, shall we? I didn’t ask for any particular erotic fantasy. I thought I made that very clear to your employer. Simple sex, that’s all I require. Maybe later we can try something more—”
    Kacey threw back her head and screamed. The gambit had always been useful in silencing her younger siblings when their bickering reached intolerable proportions.
    It had the same effect on the Englishman now.
    â€œNow you listen to me, you—you bacon-brained, boneheadedpile of horse dung.” At least she had his complete attention, Kacey thought.
    â€œA mixed metaphor to say the least,” he said dryly. “Obviously, English isn’t your strong suit.”
    â€œNo, art is, damn you! Now are you going to move back and let me out of here or not? Lord Draycott,” she added a moment later, crossing her arms