Jacquie D'Alessandro by Who Will Take This Man

stacked. Dozens of crates. Hundreds of crates. Very large crates.
    “Good heavens. How many of these belong to you?”
    “Everything in approximately the back third of the building.”
    She turned and stared at him. “Surely you jest.”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “Did you leave anything at all behind in the countries you visited?”
    He laughed, the deep, unrestrained sound echoing in the vast chamber. “Not all of my crates are filled with artifacts. Many of them contain fabrics, rugs, spices, and furniture I purchased for a business venture my father and I are involved with.”
    “I see.” She stared at the seemingly endless rows of crates. “Where do we begin?”
    “Follow me.” He headed down one narrow aisle, his boot heels thudding against the rough wooden floor. She followed him as he turned again and again, until she felt like a rat in a maze. Finally they arrived at an office.
    Extracting a key from his waistcoat pocket, he unlocked the door and indicated she should enter. She crossed the threshold and found herself in a cramped room, the limited space dominated by an oversized beech-wood desk. Crossing to the desk, Lord Greybourne opened the top drawer and withdrew two thick ledgers.
    “The plan is to open a crate, remove its contents, check them against these ledgers, then repack the crate. The ledgers contain itemized lists of the contents of each crate, all of which are numbered.”
    “If that is the case, then why must we unpack each crate? Why can we not simply look at the itemized list to see if something such as ‘half a curse stone’ is noted?”
    “Several reasons. First, I’ve already examined these ledgers, and nothing faintly resembling ‘half a curse stone’ is listed. Second, it is highly possible that it is listed, but inaccurately described. Therefore a visual examination of the contents is necessary. Third, as I was not the only person cataloging the items and packing the crates, I cannot swear that unintentional errors were not made. And last, it is possible that I did not find a ‘half a curse stone’ listed because it may very well be part of another item listed. For instance, when I found my piece of the stone, it was in an alabaster box, therefore—”
    “The listing may only read ‘alabaster box’ without listing the actual contents of the box.”
    “Exactly.” He crossed to the corner of the office where blankets were piled, and hefted up an armful. “I’ll set these on the floor to protect the artifacts and open a crate. I suggest we do one crate together to familiarize you with the procedure, then we can each work on a separate crate. Does that meet with your approval?”
    The sooner they started, the quicker they’d find the stone. Then the wedding could take place, her life could be restored to normal, and she would forget all about Lord Greybourne. “Let us begin.”
     
    Two hours later, Philip looked up from cataloging a particularly fine clay vase he recalled finding in Turkey. His gaze settled upon Miss Chilton-Grizedale, and his breathing hitched.
    Due to the hot, stuffy air in the warehouse, she’d discarded her cream lace fichu, just as he’d discarded his jacket. She was bent over the crate, reaching inside to withdraw another artifact. The material of her gown molded itself to the feminine curve of her buttocks. The very lovely feminine curve of her buttocks.
    Ever since she’d settled herself across from him in his carriage—a conveyance which had seemed quite roomy until that moment—he’d been disturbingly aware of her. No doubt because of her scent…that delicious fragrance of freshly baked cake that whetted the appetite. Bloody hell, women weren’t supposed to smell like that. Like something sinfully edible that made a man want to take a bite.
    A golden shaft of morning sunlight gleamed through the window, capturing her in its glow. There was something very vibrant about this woman. Underneath her calm, decorous exterior, he sensed