She wanted him. Yes, she did. And sometimes even the librarian had to talk aloud among the stacks of books. Sometimes the governess had to break the rules, didn't she? She had to go after what she yearned for, or else there would never be any Gothic fiction.
And if Jane didn't think of herself first, no one else was going to.
* * *
THE GOVERNESS SHOULD really get moving, Griffin thought. He wasn't kidding about what he wanted.
And what he didn't want.
He couldn't listen to her for another moment. It got to him, the way that Ian Stone had disappointed her. And it hit just a little too close to home too. Not that he'd ever been a two-timer - banging a woman when seeing another was not his style - but he'd not always come clean about his feelings. Or lack thereof. Particularly the lack thereof. More often he'd kept silent, telling himself he didn't want to let down a lady, when the bald truth was that keeping his own counsel was for his own convenience.
"Five seconds," he warned Jane.
She slowly rose to her feet.
He didn't call the sensation sluicing through him disappointment. He'd made the offer - ultimatum, whatever - and was happy to abide by her decision. Hell, he'd counted on her stalking off. It was just as effective a way to prevent her Jane-tentacles from attaching to him as a tumble in his bed. See, every word that came out of her lush mouth made him almost want to care - and, hell, he knew he was incapable of doing more than a shallow imitation of that. Focusing on her body in bed would keep her out of his head.
Having her go to her own bed would work almost as well.
She had to brush by him to get to her room. As she moved, her sweet scent stroked him first. He cleared his throat. "Good ni - "
Her lips muffled the rest of what he'd meant to say.
Surprise slammed his heart against his ribs throughout the kiss. It kept him frozen too, until she stepped back and looked up at him. Her mouth opened.
He braced for whatever was going to come out of it.
"Have you ever been to a nudist colony?"
His jaw dropped. He shook his head. "Where the hell did that come from? Are you working on a Wikipedia article now?"
"You brought it up. It made me curious."
This was what was wrong with her. This was what made her dangerous. She unbalanced him. When he tried to scare her off or push her away, she stood her ground. And then she demanded disturbing things - I had to help him include the emotion, she'd said. You'll have to do that too - or asked odd, irrelevant questions like this one. He barely restrained himself from wringing her neck. "No, Jane, I've never been to a nudist colony."
She nodded. "Because you'd think they'd use sunscreen instead of coconut oil."
Now it was his turn to stare. "Your brain is too damn busy."
"I've heard that before," she said, looking down. Then she peeped up at him through the screen of her lashes. "Want to try quieting my wild mind?"
As if he was his sister's OM chewing gum. Jesus! This wasn't turning out how he'd expected. Which should be exactly as he expected when it came to Jane. Still, he couldn't move.
"First, I want to make clear this has nothing to do with our working relationship. Instead, let's think of it like this," she said. "Right now, we're in a place out of time."
"Out of time," he echoed.
"This isn't the real world." She gestured with one arcing arm.
He followed the movement and found himself looking out the window at the lights of Los Angeles. He was a native. Jane was also a Los Angeleno. This was their real world.
"We've escaped, just for the night. A single night."
Escaped Crescent Cove. Beach House No. 9. The place that had been his escape.
That is, until Jane arrived, with her talk, her hair, her pretty eyes and even prettier mouth. Her crazy-making stubbornness.
"So what happens here - "
" - stays here," he finished for her, surrendering to the inevitable. And then he pounced.
With an arm at her back, he dragged her onto her tiptoes, melding their bodies together as he took her mouth. This time, he fell back into the aggressor role, and Jane fell into that only-when-he-was-kissing-her pliancy. Her head dropped back, and he caught it in one