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him staring at her. She’d seen that look before from men she’d met at the few social events she’d attended in the village near her family’s country estate.

Her heart sped up and she felt a strange tingle in her middle. She’d never had that reaction to the village men, but Driscoll Rose’s heavy-lidded eyes watching her so thoughtfully as he slumped in his chair, his long finger circling the rim of his teacup made her skin feel prickly, as if a lightning storm was approaching.

She licked her dry lips. “What?”

7

Driscoll knew he had completely lost his grip on common sense as he leaned toward Amelia, cupped her face in his hands and brought his mouth close to hers. “I want to kiss you.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Why?”

Since she didn’t pull back, instead of answering, he moved the few inches separating them and covered her mouth with his. He nearly moaned with pleasure. Her lips were warm, moist and honey-scented from the tea. He removed his hands from her face to wrap her in his arms, pulling her flush against him.

He’d kissed dozens of women, but none was sweeter, softer, or fit his body so well. He nudged her lips with his tongue, and she smiled, enough movement to gain entry.

To his delight, she slid her hands up his chest and encircled his neck, her slender fingers tugging on the back of his hair. He shifted his mouth to take the kiss deeper, more powerful.

Amelia was sweet in her innocent response to him. Her initial unease faded, and she became more involved with his movements, which to his delight, she mimicked.

The sound of footsteps reluctantly dragged him back to reality. The actuality of where they were and how many people could walk by stopped him cold. If it was his intention to keep Amelia’s name free from ruination or scandal, the last thing they needed was to be caught practically pawing at each other in the dining room.

Driscoll pulled back, trying desperately to catch his breath. He glanced over at Amelia who stared at him, her fingers resting on her well-kissed lips. She opened her mouth to speak when Dante strolled into the room.

He glanced at them, then quickly offered Driscoll a smirk that he hoped with all his being Amelia had not seen.

“I thought you two were working on the books.” He reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.

“We’re taking a break,” Driscoll snapped.

Dante turned and took a seat across from Amelia. “A break? Is that what you call it now?”

Driscoll rose from his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands balled into fists that he was prepared to use on his brother’s grinning mouth. “Yes, a break. Amelia and I have been staring at numbers for hours. We deserve a break.”

His brother held his hands up in surrender. “All right. I only asked. I never remember you taking a break that involved leaving your desk.” He nodded at Amelia. “Very dedicated, my brother.”

She raised her chin and stared at Dante. “Yes. I know he is dedicated. You are fortunate to have a partner such as him.”

She was beautiful in the flush that remained on her face. Either from their short bout of passion, or her anger at his brother. Either way she reminded him of a female warrior.

“I totally agree, Miss Pence.” Dante lowered his voice almost as if in repentance, which Driscoll in no way believed. “Driscoll is a fine partner. And brother.”

“It’s time we returned to work,” Driscoll said as he pulled out Amelia’s chair.

“In all seriousness, Driscoll, I do need a few minutes of your time. A few issues have come up that we need to discuss.”

“Of course, do you want to go over them now?”

Amelia walked to the doorway. “I will return to work.”

Once she was gone, Driscoll took his seat. “What issues are there?”

“Remember Lord Randolph Newton?” Dante took a sip of coffee.

“The one we banned for fighting?”

“The very same.”

Driscoll snorted. “The man is an idiot, and ready to raise his fists for the slightest reason. Why are you bringing him up now?”

“He appeared at the door tonight with one of his friends, Mr. Daniel Lyons, who is still a member, but close to being banned himself for cheating at cards.”

Driscoll frowned. “If he was caught cheating at cards why hasn’t he already been banned?”

“Because it wasn’t proven, just strongly suggested by one club member. A Lord Batterley.”

“I know the man. He’s accused more than one member of cheating. In fact, he cornered me at White’s one afternoon with a long recitation of two other members he believed filched money from him in card games.”

Dante shook his head. “It seems Newton showed up here with Lyons in an attempt to be reinstated.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I would speak with you about it. My own opinion is we should keep him banned. There’s something shady about the man that I don’t like. What I wanted to know from you is how much is he in debt to us?”

Driscoll thought for a moment. “I would have to check my books. I don’t think it’s an outstanding amount or I would know right off how much. Come with me to the office and I’ll check.” He stood. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“Yes.” Dante drained his coffee cup and set it down. “Have you learned anything else about our new employee? It seemed when I entered that the two of you have become—shall we say—friendly?”

Driscoll gritted his teeth. “Don’t. Say. Any. More.”

Dante shrugged. “I don’t care one way or the other, except we don’t know anything more about the woman now than we did the night she dropped through the window.”

“What is your concern, then?”

They began to walk back to the office. “Nothing really. Curious, perhaps. Unless she gives me reason to believe there is something in whatever her secret is that she’s keeping that could hurt us.” He glanced over at Driscoll. “Or you.”

“Don’t worry about

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