ankle span of a doll whose best days were long over, underscored by her brittle hair, faded satin gown and scarred face.
Her hands clutched the desk edge, knuckles white as she watched him study that symbol of her past which she had arranged with quaint charm. It gave patrons the picture of a little blonde girl getting the set, the doll when it was brand new. Cherishing it, deciding to grow up and have her entire life be like a tea party. Civilized, every detail thought out. Well designed, beautiful. Peaceful.
The room was laid out such that none of the tables were too close to that display wall, so that a person could move comfortably past its offerings without hovering over seated patrons. In this case it gave the ladies in the room the opportunity to study him easily under the guise of interest in the displays that most of them had seen many times before. She had three age groups in the room; Mrs. Allen’s set, who were well into grandmother realm and perhaps holding out successfully for great-grandchildren; a pair of women in their forties, now empty nesters; and a table of six chic professional women who preferred this spot on Thursday afternoons rather than a golf course, nightclub or bar hangout. And every one of them was watching Tyler. Not blatantly, but with quick flicks of their eyelashes, secret smiles among themselves, a feminine chuckle. It set her teeth on edge. Why had he invaded her world before she had the inner gates to it closed? She felt as if he were contaminating it in some way, disrupting the atmosphere like the arrival of a Chippendales stripper in a library to deliver a birthday gram to the quiet steward of all those dignified books.
But he didn’t have the effeminate prettiness of a Chippendale. Chloe was right. Tyler commanded attention because he was like a tiger. Mesmerizing and possessing something that suggested it was wise not to turn your back on him, any more than it would be a wise move to run.
He turned at last, made his way down the wall until he reached her mirror. Being a tall man, it was easy for him to rest an elbow on the mantel.
Other male Dominants did not affect her this way. Perhaps it was the Domme in her that admired the strength to his bearing, his profile. The predatory readiness that pulsed from him was equally balanced with the assurance he would be the first to hold out a chair for a woman, help an elderly woman down the stairs at the bank or ask a girl crying in the mall what was the matter. How could he make it better? The moment any woman met his gaze she’d know he could make it better. In short, he was a walking fantasy, and there was nothing more dangerous to Marguerite’s world than that.
The motion of his body suggested that he had put a hand in the pocket of his slacks, a comfortable, masculine pose. His attention appeared to now rest on a photo of colorfully dressed tea pickers in India, which was grouped with lovely landscapes of the green hills of the tea gardens in Malaysia. Beyond that were some of her favorite Japanese tea theme scrolls and watercolors drawn by tea masters.
The desk pressed against her thighs as she leaned forward. The surface was too wide for her to touch the window. Inching her skirt up, she slid onto the wood top, folding her legs beneath her as she reached out.
It didn’t matter why she felt like doing this. She didn’t want to think about why she was tracing his shoulder on the glass, imagining how it would feel, the fabric of his shirt, the solid man beneath. Flattening her palm against the cool surface, she visualized touching his hair, the line of his throat, feeling the heat of life pulsing there as she passed her knuckles over it, just a gentle caress.
He turned toward her, studying the mirror rather than himself in it, and she saw his shrewd assessment, his quick realization that it was likely a two-way. Outlining his mouth, she watched as the sensual lips curved into a faint smile. He winked and placed one finger on the glass. Entranced, she moved hers to it, pressing finger pad to finger pad. She supposed he thought she was frowning at him or ignoring him, and that was fine. But as they stood there for a