I took a last look at Lady Percival and felt a burst of pride. She had come along nicely and the best part was I now knew the name of the book she held in her hands. Ethan had helped me solve the mystery when he’d brought me to work one morning and I’d invited him back here.
The book my mysterious lady held was in fact so special and so rare that the Mallerton Exhibition wanted her included in the show even though she was not even close to being fully conserved. They wanted to showcase her as an example of how ambiguous clues can be revealed with proper restoration and cleaning. The disclosure of what she held in her hand had also enhanced the provenance for the artist in general. Sir Tristan Mallerton was now enjoying a renaissance of renewed interest and exposure even though he’d been dead for a very long time.
My phone buzzed with a text from Neil. He’d arrived outside so I gathered my things and took off, waving to Rory as I checked out.
Neil helped me with the food and used a company credit card to pay for everything which got him a stern look from me.
“Well he thinks Frances ordered lunch and this is how he does it. If you pay he’ll be a right prick about it when he finds out,” Neil said.
“Has he always been so controlling, Neil?” I asked once we were back in the car and on our way. Neil and I had developed an easy rapport. We respected the others position and needs so the relationship worked.
“No.” Neil shook his head. E had a hard edge to him when he got out of the SF. But then war changes everybody who gets too close to it. E got as close as it gets and made it out alive. He’s a walking miracle.”
“I’ve seen his scars,” I said.
“Did he tell you about what happened in Afghanistan?” Neil looked up at me in the rearview.
“No,” I answered truthfully, realizing that the information coming from Neil would stop and I would be no closer to understanding Ethan’s past than he would be about knowing mine.
Elaina helped us dole out the food to the proper parties and Frances ushered me into Ethan’s inner sanctum with a smug look and shut the door. He was on the phone.
My gorgeous guy was busy with work but still held out his hand to me. I set the sandwiches on his desk and went to him. He snaked his arm around me and pulled me down onto his lap, and kept right on with his business call.
“Right, I know. But you tell those fools that Blackstone represents the Royal Family and when Her Majesty shows up for the opening ceremonies to give her blessing there will not be one f**king exit left unattended. Period. No negotiation…”
Ethan continued with his call and I began unpacking his lunch. He moved his hand up to the back of my neck and rubbed. It felt divine with him touching me even though any idiot could see he was dreadfully busy.
I set out his food on a plate and then unwrapped mine. I bit into my chicken salad on wheat while he massaged my neck. A girl could seriously get used to this. Ethan was so affectionate and I loved the way he wanted to touch me all the time. My touchy-feely guy. I was nearly done with half of my sandwich before he ended his call.
Both hands reached and turned me, still on his lap. He gave me a very nice kiss and groaned. “Finally. It’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes,” he muttered. He smiled at me and looked at the plate. “You brought me lunch…and your delicious self.”
I smiled back. “I did.”
“Which should I devour first, the sandwich or you?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, his hands starting to roam up the side of my sweater.
“I think you better devour your sandwich before you get another phone call,” I told him.
His phone rang.
He scowled and resigned himself to it. The second call was relatively quick though and he managed to start his roast beef on rye before the third one came through. He put that call on speaker so he could eat and converse at the same time. Not very elegant, but it worked.
I was content to sit with him and listen to his work business while he smoothed a hand up and down my back. Ethan made me feel glad I had stopped by even though this would be no social lunch for us. The timing was crazy for him and me. I can’t imagine his job could be any more complicated than at the moment with the Olympics looming and London hosting the whole thing. He should have just sent me a note that said, ‘I just bought your portrait and I’d really like to get to know you—sometime in mid August.’
He kept his phone on speaker and we managed a few quick kisses in between calls and bites, but soon it was hard to justify as a lunch hour any more.
“I should get going, Ethan.” I kissed him and started to get up.
“No.” He held me on his lap. “I don’t want you to go yet. I like having you here with me. You soothe me, baby.” He rested his head on top of mine. “You are my ray of light in a fog of ignorance and frustration.”
“Really? You like that I came and complicated your day and forced food on you?” I fiddled with his tie clip and smoothed his tie. “You’re so busy with your work and I’m interrupting.”
“No you’re not,” he traced his lips along my throat. “It tells me that you care for me,” he said quietly.
“I do, Ethan,” I whispered back.
“So you’ll stay for a while?”
How could I say no to him when he was so sweet with me? “All right, just an hour more. But then I have to really go. I need to stop by my flat and get some things. I have to study for exams and I want to get in a workout. You’re not the only one around here that’s busy.” I tweaked his chin and made him grin at me.
“I want to get busy with you right here on my desk,” he growled and lifted me up, plopping me ass first on his big, executive desk.
I squeaked as he pounced, pushing my legs apart so he could get in between with his hips. “Ethan! You’re office! We can’t!”
He reached under his desk and I heard the click of the door locking. “I want you so badly right now. I need you, Brynne. Please?”
He was all over me, hands gripping, pushing me back on the desk and thrusting hard at my center. I let him press me down and slide me to the edge, my body already softening and heating up for him. His purposeful long fingers made their way to my panties and peeled those babies right down my legs, over my boots and dropped somewhere on the floor of his office. I’d found that Ethan was definitely an opportunist whenever I chose to wear a skirt.
“You’re a crazy man,” I murmured, not really caring anymore that we were about to f**k on his desk in the middle of his place of work.