Cordinas Crown Jewel by Nora Roberts Page B

the way—and with that whiff of France in her voice, he’d put money on some kind of Swiss finishing school.
    In any case, wherever she’d been educated, she was smart enough to let the whole matter of that littlesexual snap drop.
    She’d simply nodded when he’d said they were even, and had made her fancy breakfast crêpes.
    He admired that, the way she’d accepted the tit for tat and had gone back to business as usual.
    There was money—or there had been money. Pricey Swiss watch, silk robe. And it had been silk. He could still feel the way it had floated and slithered over his bare skin when she’d wrapped herself around him.
    Damn it.
    Still, she was no stranger to work. She actually seemed to
like
cooking. It was almost beyond his comprehension. Plus she’d sit at the keyboard for hours without complaint. Her typing was neat and quick, her posture perfect. And her hands as elegant as a queen’s.
    Breeding, he thought. The woman had breeding. The kind that gave you spine as well as a sense of fair play.
    And she had the most incredible mouth.
    So how did it all add up?
    He caught himself scratching at the beard again, and was struck with inspiration.
    “Could use a shave.”
    He said it casually, waited for her to glance his way. “I’m sorry?”
    “A shave,” he repeated. “I could use one.”
    Because she considered it a friendly overture, she smiled. “Can you manage it, or do you want help?”
    He frowned a little, to show he was reluctant. “You ever shave a man?”
    “No.” She pursed her lips, angled her head. “But I’ve seen my father and my brothers shave. How hard can it be?”
    “Brothers?”
    “Yes, two.” Thoughtful, she stepped to him, bending a bit to study the terrain of his face. A lot of angles, she mused. Dips and planes. There certainly wasn’t anything smooth or simple about it, but that only made it challenging. “I don’t see why I couldn’t do it.”
    “It’s my flesh and blood on the line, sister.” Still he lifted a hand, rubbed irritably. “Let’s do it.”
    *  *  *
    She took the job seriously. After some debate, she decided the best spot for the event was the front porch. They’d get a little fresh air, and she’d be able to maneuver a full three hundred and sixty degrees around his chair as she couldn’t in the tiny upstairs bathroom.
    She dragged out a small table, and set up her tools. The wide, shallow bowl filled with hot water. The can of shaving cream, the towels, the razor.
    Part of her wished it was a straight rather than a safety razor. It would’ve been fun to strop it sharp.
    When he sat, she tied a towel around his neck. “I could trim your hair while I’m at it.”
    “Leave the hair alone.”
    She couldn’t blame him. It was a marvelous head of hair, wonderfully streaky and tumbled. In any case her one attempt at cutting hair—her own—had proved she had no hidden talent for it.
    “All right, just relax.” She covered his face with a warm, damp towel. “I’ve seen this in movies. I believe it softens the beard.”
    When he gave a muffled grunt and relaxed, she looked out at the woods. They were so green, so thick, dappled with light and shadows. She could hear birdsong, and caught the quick flash of a cardinal—a red bullet into a green target.
    No one was huddled in those shadows waiting for her to make some move that would earn them a fee for a new photograph. There were no stoic guards standing by to protect her.
    The peace of it was like a balm.
    “It’s beautiful out today.” Absently she laid a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to share this lovely feeling of freedom with someone. “All blue and green with summer. Hot, but not oppressive. In Virginia, we’d be drenched in humidity by now.”
    Aha! He knew he’d tagged a touch of the South in her voice. “What’s in Virginia?”
    “Oh, my family.” Some of them, she thought. “Our farm.”
    As she took the towel away, his eyes—sharp and full of doubt—met hers.