She had inherited her Irish family's delicate bone structure, but she had meat on those bones like her Polish relations, and she wore a size twelve. Twelve was considered a larger size in this day and age. Would he think she was fat? Was she pretty enough to seduce a man who had been bedding English nobility?
She stared hard into the mirror. Her breasts were nice. Small, but perfectly rounded. Her hips were a little wide, but they were nicely curved, and her thighs, thanks to her regimen at the Awesome Woman gym, were slender. She peered over her shoulder at her butt. Fleshy, but firm and shapely. Okay, so she wasn't a model, but she had a nice body. He'd either like it or he wouldn't. But it didn't make any difference as long as she could get him to seduce her so she could then write about sexual encounters, and know what the hell she was really talking about.
She wondered how many times she would have to do it with him. Would once be enough? What if they had to do it more than once, and he didn't like the way she did it, and he wouldn't continue? Well, then she would simply go to her duke. Hadn't he implied that once she lost her virginity he was there to take over for Devlin? Maybe not exactly, but she had understood that once she had experienced passion in her own reality, it could also be there for her in the reality of the Channel.
But how was she ever going to seduce Michael Devlin? He was very sophisticated, and his reputation was that of a man who chose his own women, made his own decisions. All the books she had showing in copious and colorful detail the sexual encounter, the positions, and how they could be done offered nothing on how to get a man to do them. What had Savannah said? 'Throw yourself on his mercy'? 'You're just his type'? Emily wouldn't have thought an urbane guy like Devlin would look seriously at her twice. But then, maybe he was bored with his elegant and worldly women. Maybe. Just maybe a little country girl who needed his help would appeal to him. Could she pull it off without making a complete fool of herself? Well, she was going to find out soon enough. Picking up her sleep shirt from the chair where she had put it earlier, Emily slipped it on, wondering if she should maybe go down to Lacy Nothings in the village tomorrow and pick out something sexier in which to be seduced. Or would that be much too patent? A soft old cotton sleep shirt was hardly the garment in which to be seduced. She'd wager his women all wore elegant silk-and-lace lingerie when they bedded Mick Devlin. But wouldn't it look obvious if she did? As if she were expecting him to make love to her? Undecided, Emily climbed into her bed. She was in a dreamless sleep before she even knew it. It had been a long, hard day. And it was surely going to get harder before it got easier.
Chapter 3
He wasn't sure if it was the smell of the coffee or the cinnamon rolls baking that had awakened him first. He had been lying on his belly. Turning lazily over onto his back, he sniffed appreciatively. The big tall clock in the upstairs hall began to chime. Nine o'clock. He looked across the room toward the window, and saw the day was fair. And for some reason he found that, unlike most Saturdays, he wasn't the least bit sleepy. He had slept like a damned log the entire night through. Michael Devlin climbed out of bed, peed, brushed his teeth, shaved, and got dressed. Then he headed directly downstairs toward the delicious smells coming from Emily Shanski's kitchen.
'Damnation!' Emily dropped the pan she was taking from the oven quickly onto the counter, and flung the towel in her hand into the sink.
He was at her side before she even realized he was there, taking her hand and sticking it under cold running water. 'It's not bad. What happened?'
'I almost forgot the rolls, and instead of taking an oven mitt I grabbed a towel,' Emily replied. She turned her head to say thank you, and found herself nose-to-nose with him. Her blue eyes widened with surprise, and then he kissed her.
Her lips were incredibly soft, and she smelled of sweet rolls and lilacs. He slid an arm about her waist, and his kiss deepened as he felt her yielding against him. What was happening? He groaned and let her go. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that,' he said, stepping back a pace.
'Why not?' she asked him, suddenly knowing she had to take the initiative. For all his reputation Devlin was a gentleman. His kiss had been wonderful! She had never before been kissed quite like that. It was fierce and tender all rolled into one.
'I think we both know the answer to that, Emily,' he replied stiffly.
'Sit down, Devlin,' she told him, already pouring him a mug of coffee, and gestured toward the kitchen table. 'Have a sweet roll, and let's discuss the fact that we seem to be attracted to each other.'
'I'm your editor,' he replied.
'And Savannah Banning tells me you're a very good one,' Emily answered him. 'Why should the fact that we're being drawn to each other change that?'
'You know Lady Palmer?' he asked her.
'We go way back,' Emily said. 'I was her witness when she and Sir Reginald went to the registry office seven years ago. I'm the Honorable William's godmother.'
He nodded, surprised. It had never occurred to him that Emily Shanski would know the beautiful and flamboyant Savannah Banning. And God knew what the gossipy Lady Palmer had said about him. 'More than a business relationship between us would be inappropriate,' he tried to explain, but he sensed she knew that.
'Oh, piffle!' Emily responded. She plunked a roll on his plate and pushed it and the butter toward him. 'Do you want to sleep with me?'
He choked on the bit of roll in his mouth, his face growing red, coughing. 'Water!' he gasped, jumping up. She got it for him. Swallowing it, he managed to regain what he hoped would pass for composure. 'You're joking, of course,' he said.
'Are you amused?' she countered dryly. Her blue eyes were actually dancing with merriment, and her lips twitched, as if she wanted to burst into laughter at him.
The little witch was enjoying his discomfiture quite thoroughly, he thought. What would happen if he called her bluff? he wondered. Would she fall into his arms, or run shrieking from her sunny kitchen? Michael Devlin didn't liked being played for a fool, and he always made it a point to be the one who initiated any sexual encounter. But this was just too good to resist. If he was ever going to have any credibility with his writer, he had to make damned certain from the start that Emily knew who was the boss.
'As a matter of fact,' he told her, looking down into those big cornflower-blue eyes, 'I don't want to sleep with you, Emily Shanski. Let's tell it like it really is. I want to fuck you. I've wanted to since I first saw you. It is totally inappropriate for us to get involved, but I've never been a man to play entirely by the rules. If you're game, so am I,' Devlin said wickedly. He almost laughed aloud at the look of surprise on her face. He had shocked the adorable Miss Shanski with his rather blunt and crude language.
Emily swallowed hard, and worked to feign an imperturbability she was far from feeling. 'All right,' she finally said. 'Then we'll do it tonight.' Her pulse pounded.
'Oh, no, angel face,' he responded, surprised, but not about to let her get the upper hand. 'I don't play that way. No appointments for you and me. I like spontaneity. I think now is as good a time as any to begin our little adventure, don't you?' Standing away from the table, he moved toward her, his mouth twitching with his amusement.
'It's morning!' Emily protested, taking a step back.
'Haven't you ever done it in the daylight, angel face? It's just as much fun. Sometimes even better, because there is always the chance someone will come in and discover you getting your ears fucked off on your well- scrubbed oak kitchen table.' His green eyes glittered as he moved closer and closer to where she now stood.
Emily backed away again, eyes wide. People made love on kitchen tables? She didn't know whether she should be shocked or intrigued. She swallowed hard once more and said coolly, 'I far prefer the comfort of a bed, Devlin,
