Dreams of Desire by Cheryl Holt Page B

assume it’s yet another secret vice?”
    “I have no secret vices.”
    “Liar.”
    On being reminded that she knew about Lauretta, his cheeks flushed.
    “You have the sharpest tongue,” he charged.
    “Don’t I, though?”
    “I never allow anyone to speak to me as you do.”
    “Why is that, do you suppose?”
    “I believe you’ve driven me insane with your bizarre conduct.”
    “I’m a perfectly normal woman.”
    “There’s no such thing.”
    “You bring out the worst in me.”
    “I’m sure that’s true,” he said.
    “You didn’t answer my question.”
    “About what?”
    “About your sitting here in the dark. Why are you?”
    He stared and stared, then he stunned her by saying, “If you must know, I’ve been thinking about my mother.”
    “Have you?” She struggled to keep her expression blank so he’d continue.
    “Have you been apprised of her history?” he inquired.
    “Some of it.”
    “So you’re aware of how she . . . when she ...”
    “Yes,” she hurriedly interjected to save him the embarrassment of explaining.
    “I haven’t seen her in three decades.” He scowled, appearing somber and solemn. “If you were me, would you kick her out?”
    Would she? Her own mother had died when Lily was tiny, and Lily couldn’t picture her face or remember her voice. If she could have her mother back, she wouldn’t begrudge her any foible. No matter what she might have done or how she’d acted, Lily would welcome her with open arms.
    At least he had a mother to worry about. Lily had no one at all.
    “No, I wouldn’t kick her out.”
    He sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
    “You won’t make her leave, will you? I heard her mention that she has no money and nowhere to go.”
    “I wouldn’t necessarily assume it’s the truth.”
    “Why would she lie?”
    “She has a penchant for drama.”
    “I didn’t notice that about her,” she fibbed.
    “She wouldn’t hesitate to tell a tale of woe in order to get what she wants.”
    “And what would that be?”
    He paused and studied her. “Miss Lambert?”
    “Yes?”
    “I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
    “What do you want to talk about?”
    “When we are alone, you’re to call me John.”
    “I’d rather not.”
    “I shall call you Lily.”
    “I don’t give you permission.”
    “I don’t care.”
    The room became very quiet. An ember cracked in the grate; the clock on the mantel ticked away. Her heart thundered in her chest.
    “Have you ever wished,” he said, “that you could be someone else? That you could wave a magic wand and have a different sort of life?”
    “I wish it all the time.”
    “So do I.”
    He was so near, his beautiful mouth only an inch away. Would he kiss her? She hoped he both would and wouldn’t. Further flirtation between them was wrong and dangerous, yet she yearned for him to proceed nonetheless.
    Just once—just once!—she wanted to have an adventure. She, who’d always been boring and ordinary, wanted to do something extraordinary, and she wanted to do it with him.
    He dipped down and brushed his lips to hers, then he pulled away.
    “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, not meaning it.
    “I know, but when I’m around you, I can’t help myself.” He grinned from ear to ear, so that he looked young again and possessed of his mother’s mischief. “Do you remember that night on board ship,” he asked, “when I kissed you?”
    As if she would ever forget!
    “Yes.”
    “Since then, I’ve been able to concentrate on naught but you and how soon we could do it again.”
    “You can’t be serious.”
    “I most certainly am. Why have you been hiding from me?”
    “I haven’t been!” At his dubious glare, she mumbled, “Well, maybe a little. Sometimes.”
    He nodded, an imperious brow raised. “I hate to tell you, Miss Lambert, but our relationship is about to change.”
    “It is?”
    “Yes. You and I will fraternize privately wherever and whenever I can