Open Invitation?. Karen Kendall

that did him no honor. But one that channeled his anger at her and her disappearance and her social climbing.

      He still couldn’t believe he was here at friggin’ charm school. Dan reminded himself that he was doing this for Claire, and Claire alone.

      And regarding this weird attraction to Lilia London? He’d taken Psych 101 in college. That old goat Freud would probably explain it as a rebel, subconscious urge. Was his lust for the china doll an instinct to literally screw manners? Yep. That’s all it was. Dan was sure of it.

      3

      LILIA RETURNED to her senses and backed away from the animal and his magnetism before he got any closer and…and…kissed her or something. God forbid.

      Because kissing clients was not acceptable. And judging from this man’s awful performance in her office just now, she needed to get right to work on him.

      She sat in her Queen Anne chair and demurely crossed her feet at the ankles, knees together. She clasped her hands in her lap and smiled while Dan made himself comfortable—or tried to—in her visitor’s seat. He dwarfed the antique, and she heard an ominous creak as he tried to lounge against the back of it.

      Dan froze, hearing it, too. He shot her an uneasy glance. “This thing gonna hold up under my weight?”

      “It should be fine,” Lilia told him, praying that this was indeed so. Like most of the pieces in her office, the chair had belonged to Nana Lisbeth, who hadn’t believed in reproductions. She’d been terribly old-school and formal.

      Dan spread his knees, ready to frog-leap out of the chair at a moment’s notice. She hid a smile.

      “Shall we get right to work, then?”

      “Why not.”

      “Fine. Then let’s begin by going over your, ah, performance since you arrived.”

      “My performance?” Dan seemed taken aback.

      “Your…behavior. And ways in which it can improve.”

      He shrugged and then nodded.

      “Now, for starters, let me say that the correct way to behave is almost always what makes the people around you comfortable. I’m probably about to make you rather uncomfortable, but it’s in the spirit of learning, all right? And I apologize beforehand.”

      “All righty.”

      “Let’s talk about greetings. When you came in, I believe you said, ‘howdy.’ Is that correct?”

      “Yup.”

      “Let’s change that to merely ‘hello.’ And ‘yup’ to ‘yes.’ Then there’s the issue of your Western hat. That absolutely must come off before you enter a building.” In fact, it should be left behind in Texas or burned.

      “I’m sorry, ma’am, I did know that. I just lost my manners when I saw how gosh-darned pretty you are.”

      Lil flushed. “Thank you. But that leads us into another issue. Your compliments are charming, but for Connecticut or England, they may be a bit effusive.”

      “E-what?”

      “Florid.” Seeing him look more confused than ever, she added, “Too much. Over the top.”

      “I can’t tell a woman she’s pretty?”

      “You can, but perhaps in a less familiar way. Now, when I offered you coffee, you said—”

      “Don’t mind if I do.”

      “Yes, please,” Lilia corrected. “And you always say ‘thank you’ when a beverage is given to you.”

      “Okay.”

      “When I offered you the plate of cookies and fruit, you put an entire cookie into your mouth. That’s not acceptable. You need to make it last at least three bites, and of course you’ll never talk with your mouth full.”

      “No, never,” he said solemnly.

      “Now, let’s talk about your boots. While they are indeed very fine, they never, under any circumstances, belong on a desk or any other kind of furniture.”

      He muttered an apology and looked slightly shame-faced.

      Lilia forged ahead. “Breaking the cup and saucer was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone. However, you should never again disrobe in a place of business.”

      “I was trying to save your rug!” he exclaimed.

      “I do realize that, and I thank you. However, a paper towel would have sufficed.”

      “You ladies sure didn’t seem to mind the view.”

      She blinked rapidly. “Regardless, no public shirt removal. Is that clear?”

      “Yes, mistress.”

      No mistaking the mockery in his voice. She glanced sharply at him. “You find this amusing, Mr. Granger?”

      “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

      “It’s really no laughing matter.”

      “Sorry, Miz London, but I can laugh at just about anything. It’s a fault of mine.” His hazel eyes danced.

      As faults went, she supposed that one wasn’t too awful. One needed a sense of humor to survive in this world.

      Lil studied his face, which was framed by short, wavy, chestnut hair—the same color as the sprinkling of it she’d seen on his bare torso. She had the oddest desire to tangle her fingers in it, rake them over his bare skin, burn her cheeks against the bristle on his own.

      The man had a most disturbing effect upon her. She’d never wanted to rub herself shamelessly against Li Wong, or run her fingers through his chest hair. Probably because he’d had a total of three chest hairs, and was otherwise bald as a baby’s…

      “I wasn’t laughing at you, Miz London. Just at your, uh, dedication to your job. And the fear on your face as you realized just how raw your material was.”

      Lil raised an eyebrow. “The boots on my desk were a bit much. Even you know better than that. You were testing me.”

      “Maybe,” he admitted.

      “I may be small, Mr. Granger, but I’m not stupid or fainthearted. I’m not afraid to take you on.”

      He grinned and openly evaluated her body. “You are tiny,” he said. “What size are you? Do they make a size that small?”

      “Never, ever, ask a woman her dress size or her age, Mr. Granger. Or her true hair color. Those are not socially acceptable questions.”

      “What if you’re just asking in order to buy her a gift?”

      “You make an educated guess. If the item doesn’t fit, she’ll exchange or return it. But a gift of clothing really isn’t proper. Jewelry, yes. A scarf, a silver compact, chocolates or perfume—all perfectly acceptable.”

      “How ’bout lingerie?”

      “Out of the question, unless—” Lil felt heat warming her cheeks “—you’ve been, ah, intimate for quite some time.”

      He looked at her boldly. “Intimate, huh?”

      Impossible, but Lil could actually feel his gaze undressing her…unbuttoning her blouse, unhooking her bra, pushing up her skirt and discovering that she wore no panties under her stockings, because she couldn’t stand thongs but considered panty lines utterly unacceptable.

      Heat bloomed between her thighs, shocking her, and she pressed her knees even more firmly together.

      “Mr. Granger, as long as we’re on the topic—which isn’t socially acceptable, either, by the way—”

      “You brought it up.” He grinned