He was right, of course. Decker would sooner saw off his own arm than sack Macfie. The man was too capable. Too comfortable as well, and aware of his own value. But vital, nonetheless. Loyal, intelligent men were not easily acquired in Decker’s experience. Or loyal women, for that matter.
He had certainly never known one.
Quite a thought to have as Macfie took his leave of the office. Loyalty had never mattered before when it came to the woman—or women—sharing Decker’s bed. Did it matter now? Not that Jo was sharing his bed. Not yet, anyway.
Soon.
Hell, not soon enough.
Before he could further contemplate the possibility, Macfie returned with Jo, who was wearing a pensive expression Decker was not certain he ought to like. Either way, it was damned charming. She was beautiful, even if her countenance boded trouble.
“Lady Josephine Danvers for Mr. Decker,” Macfie bellowed, his eyebrows performing gymnastic feats.
Jo winced.
So did Decker as he rose to stand out of deference to Jo.
“Thank you, Macfie,” he said pointedly. “That will be all.”
Macfie grinned and offered an exaggerated bow before backing over the threshold. Decker knew what was coming next, curse the blighter.
“Do not slam,” he began, only to be cut off by the deafening thud of the door slamming closed.
He winced again.
“The damned door,” he added lamely, sharing a look of exasperation with Jo.
“He does not know his own strength,” Jo said calmly, echoing Decker’s words from their last meeting at his offices.
“Amongst other faults,” Decker quipped. “Have a seat, my dear.”
She neared him with a hesitation that also belonged to that day, which seemed at once a lifetime ago, although it had just been a sennight. “This is a brief visit. Forgive me for the unexpected interruption. I have merely come to deliver a new pamphlet for the Lady’s Suffrage Society. We would like to run five hundred copies of this, to begin.”
Disappointment blossomed in his chest. She was here on official purposes. Not to see him.
What did you expect, you clod? That an inexperienced young virgin would have come to you because she needs to sate the devils of desire keeping her awake at night?
Right. He was an utter fool, wasn’t he?
Belatedly, he realized she carried a sheaf of papers as she held them out to him, across his desk. Across the sea of papers which mocked him now, all the symbols of the manner in which she had set him so thoroughly at sixes and sevens. For the entirety of his adult life, two distractions had carried him through: business and pleasure. And yet, since he had last seen her, he had scarcely been able to focus upon his business concerns at all.
He accepted the papers from her, nettled by the tranquility in her countenance. She seemed so unaffected, and he longed to ruffle her feathers. To bring her down to the mud where he dwelled.
“Are there any lists contained within this draft?” he asked, raising a brow as he met her honey-brown gaze.
It was low of him to tease her in such ruthless fashion, and he knew it. But he was feeling rather low at the moment. Desperate, if he were honest. Despicable, pathetic, and randy as Priapus. He had been ruined by a slip of a girl, and he did not like it.
Her generous lips tightened. Her adorably stubborn chin tilted. “Forgive me, Mr. Decker, but I thought you had forgotten all about such matters.”
Ah. The corners of his lips mutinied, wanting to lift into a satisfied smile. He suppressed it.
“What is it you thought I had forgotten?” he asked with a calm he did not feel.
In truth, his heart was racing. Pounding. His restraint had been reduced to gossamer thread at the moment. He wanted to pounce upon her and kiss the pout from her delicious lips, and then strip her out of her smart navy promenade gown and…
Hell.
He viciously cut off any more thoughts in that vein.
Her lips had parted in invitation, and her dark eyes glittered, as if she knew exactly the nature of the filth that was happening in his mind.
“I thought you had forgotten my list,” she said, her voice cool. “It is just as well if your enthusiasm has waned, however. I have been thinking a great deal since the dinner at Lord and Lady Sinclair’s the other night. Surely completing each item with the same man will hinder my—”
“No,” he bit out, dropping the manuscript to the sea of other