Anne Sommer, a spinster firmly on the shelf, does the unthinkable. She hires a man to give her pleasure for one night. Anne wants the erotic memories to keep her company in the lonely years ahead. She did not expect the young man who showed up at her door to move her in ways she never imagined.
Desmond Glover gives pleasure—for a price. An orphan whose childhood was mired in scandal and poverty, Desmond has learned to close off his emotions with regard to his occupation. He did not count on a lonely spinster to awaken his hidden passion.
Not only do the years separate them, but their social standings. Can Anne and Desmond cross such a chasm and find mutual desire—or love?
The bell clanged. Dear God, the man had arrived. Taking a fortifying breath, she smoothed her skirt and walked toward the front entrance. She’d given Mrs. Tamblen two days off to visit her sister. She didn’t need her maid/cook knowing she had a strange man in her house. She’d pay him and send him away.
Anne opened the door and illuminated from the setting sun stood —the Adonis. Her breath seized in her chest. The man was extremely tall, perhaps six and half feet and his shoulders almost met the width of the door. Very well dressed in a black wool suit with matching cloak, he wore a hat and gloves and carried a leather bag a doctor might use.
“Miss Sommer? I am Desmond Glover. I believe we have an engagement.”
His speech sounded well-modulated, with a deep husky cadence as if he’d been trained to speak as a gentleman. Handsome did not seem adequate to describe his astounding countenance. Sending him away with a flea in his ear and ten pounds in his satchel no longer appealed. She stepped back.
“Please, do come in, Mr. Glover.”
She hung his hat and cloak on the hall tree. He followed her into the parlor. His scent consisted of a light fragrance of bay rum and clean linen. His presence indeed potent and thoroughly masculine, there was no denying a man dominated the room.
“Please, take a seat. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
How proper she sounded. She picked up the pot with both hands to stem the shaking. He sat across from her and with slow purpose removed his gloves.
“Very well. Milk, no sugar.”
Anne poured, added the milk, and reached out to pass him the cup rattling slightly on the saucer from her trembling grasp. As Mr. Glover took the tea, his long finger touched hers, and he stroked it intimately before moving away. Rolling, raw heat traveled up her arm from the innocent touch, or perhaps the contact all part of his game of seduction.
Anne took a sip of the beverage and stole a glance at her visitor over the top of the cup. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing, cut in layers, and styled in an exquisite manner, though longer than the current fashion. His face looked clean shaven. Better to show off the prominent cheekbones and well-formed jawline, she thought. The shade of his eyes was similar to the color of a snifter of warmed brandy, his gaze mesmerizing.
He crossed his long legs. “Perhaps we should discuss terms. I am here for two hours. The carriage driver will then return, and if I am not out within five minutes, he will depart and return in another two hours, and the cost will rise in accordance with the terms the abbess discussed with you. If you wish for us to sit and drink tea for this block of time, I can oblige you. However, I am here for more carnal pleasures. Do you wish to begin?”
About the Author:
Living in a small town in a corner of Ontario, Canada, I wile away my spare time writing and reading romance. As long as I can avoid being hit by a runaway moose here in this wilderness paradise, I assume everything is golden. Originally from the east coast of Canada.
I’ve been happily married for a long time to my own hero. His encouragement keeps me moving forward.