lined with delicacies. Desserts of every sort—cakes, marzipans, creams, tortes, a raspberry fool. Jo had not been particularly hungry, but the moment the sweet-scented arrival appeared, she could not deny the urge to try them. A crystal wine glass appeared before her and was instantly filled.
Jo lowered her head, attempting to avert her gaze. She had removed her hat and veil, not anticipating she would be seen by anyone else in the privacy of this lush room with its bold red wall coverings and sumptuous furnishings. She very much regretted that haste now.
One nod from Decker, and the servants disappeared as quietly and hastily as they had arrived, closing the door at their backs.
“You need not fear,” he said the instant they were alone. “My staff is exceedingly well paid, and each of them is aware that discretion is the most important virtue to possess when in my employ. Even if any of them had recognized you—which I highly doubt—they would not utter a word against you. That is my promise to you.”
Jo believed him. “Thank you. I know it is not your intention to put me in danger, but I did not craft the list to ruin my reputation. I have no wish to bring scandal upon my family. I merely wished to live a bit. To be free to experience life.”
He inclined his head. “A worthy desire. I cannot fault you for it. What is a life which cannot be freely lived and enjoyed? I applaud your bravery for both the list and the kiss. Especially the kiss.”
His words had her cheeks feeling scorched yet again. She had to turn her mind to something else. Something safer. Her gaze dipped to the delicacies laid before them.
“You are forever feeding me desserts,” she said, her eye upon a particularly sinful-looking chocolate torte. “No cream ice this evening?”
Her gaze slipped back to him—of course it did—to find him eying her as if she were the only dessert he wanted to consume. She barely suppressed a shiver.
“No cream ice,” he agreed calmly. “I want to see what other sweets please you.”
All of them, she wanted to say, but none as much as your mouth on mine.
Oh dear. Best to turn her mind to other matters. She was curious, of course.
“Why have you brought me to your club this evening?” she asked next.
A smile flirted with his lips. “Because there is something I intend to show you here. Now choose your first dessert, bijou. My time with you is sadly limited, and I have a great deal more planned for us.”
Us.
Why did she like the way that lone word sounded in his deep, delicious voice so much?
Jo selected the torte that had been beckoning her ever since it had appeared on the table between them. “What more do you have planned?”
Kissing, she hoped.
Breathlessness, naturally.
“Patience.” He winked.
“Is an under-appreciated virtue,” Jo added.
“The lady is learning.” His smile deepened, revealing two grooves.
Dimples.
To accompany the charming little dent that hid in the middle of his proud chin.
Why had she failed to note them before now? Was it that he had not given her a true smile until this moment? She wanted to kiss each one of those dips. To travel the small divots with her tongue. To taste his skin the same way she had tasted his mouth earlier, in the carriage.
Instead, she shoveled a forkful of decadent chocolate torte into her mouth. In ladylike fashion, of course. Sort of.
The moan of bliss that fled her was decidedly not ladylike.
Her gaze flitted back to his, finding him watching her with that same inscrutable expression. Or mayhap not entirely inscrutable. He was looking at her as if she were the dessert laid before him. No man had ever stared at her with such frankness before.
She swallowed the bite of decadent cake. “Forgive me for my lapse of manners.”
“You need not apologize for enjoying something, Jo,” he said, the intimacy in his tone intoxicating. “Not with anything that happens between us. Do you understand?”
She understood he was speaking of something beyond her ken. Jo was a novice. Mr. Decker was decidedly not. But he wanted her to comprehend what he was saying, and in that moment, all she wanted was to please him.
What a strange realization. She had thought her list was about herself, and yet, she cared more about the man seated opposite her than she did about any of the items she had written.
“I understand,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart fluttering.
Decker knew