The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

quite well,’ she murmured. ‘Possibly even invigorated. I’ll know more once I’ve showered.’

      Greyson’s lashes came up and he regarded her warily. ‘I wasn’t always easy with you last night.’

      ‘No.’ Her turn to initiate the kissing this time. Her choice to linger. ‘You weren’t. Still … a woman might choose to be grateful for that fact.’

      He didn’t look reassured. Charlotte stifled a sigh. Perhaps he wasn’t as confident in his size and sexuality as she expected him to be. Perhaps he hadn’t always … fitted in.

      Perhaps a demonstration of her sincerity was in order.

      She slid from the bed and headed for the bathroom suite, shedding her robe along the way. Bare butt and a tumble of waist-length tangled black curls—that was the view she afforded him. ‘Shower time.’ She glanced over her shoulder and offered up a siren’s smile. ‘It’s a big shower.’

      She’d been under the spray for only a few minutes before he joined her. Long enough for her to get wet and soapy. Just long enough for her to start wondering if, when she stepped back out of the bathroom, she’d find him gone.

      ‘I’m not normally so careless,’ he said gruffly as she turned to face him.

      ‘By careless, do you mean passionate? Fevered? Lost?’

      ‘Yeah, that.’

      A woman couldn’t help it if her smile turned somewhat smug.

      ‘I usually make a concerted effort to please,’ he said next.

      ‘Really?’ Now there was a pretty picture. ‘Do tell.’

      ‘Why don’t I just show you?’ he murmured.

      Charlotte’s smile widened. ‘I want you to know that I really am doing my best to convey to you that last night was an intensely erotic and pleasurable experience for me, with absolutely no apology necessary on your part. Just so we’re clear on that point.’

      ‘Consider it clarified,’ he said. ‘Now turn around to face the tiles.’

      ‘Please.’

      He smiled, but he didn’t say please. Just turned her gently around and then stepped in behind her and slid his hands down her arms and his fingers over hers before taking her hands and placing her palms against the tiles, shoulder height and body length apart. ‘Like this,’ he said.

      ‘Please.’

      But he didn’t say please. Instead, he slid his hands down her body, down to where she was tender and swollen. He parted her legs, caressed her with knowing fingers. ‘You okay?’

      Did a groan qualify as a yes?

      He slid his hands around to her buttocks, filling his palms with them before sliding his hands up the length of her back in one long massaging caress. Arms next, out to her wrists, and then all the way back to where he started.

      He kneed her legs open, she braced herself against the wall and stood on tiptoe, waiting for his entry. Expecting it.

      ‘Don’t move,’ he whispered.

      ‘Don’t move, please. Alternatively, you could say please don’t move. Do you have no manners at all?’

      ‘Sometimes, I do,’ he countered and there was laughter in that dark, delicious voice. ‘I’m very impressed by yours. But just in case you feel obliged to interrupt me any time soon, you can thank me later.’

      And then he was kneeling down and wedging broad water-slicked shoulders between her legs and twisting his torso, one strong powerful hand at the small of her back, tilting her pelvis forward, his other hand high on her thigh, as he set his mouth to her centre and feasted.

      Charlotte managed to keep her hands to the tiles.

      She managed to keep all curses, pleas, and oaths to a minimum.

      Later, much later, she remembered to thank him.

      Breakfast wasn’t a leisurely affair. Charlotte ate grapes from one hand while setting the espresso machine to brewing with the other. She’d dressed for work in her usual working attire—smart trousers, plain shirt, boring shoes—and she’d kept the make-up light, aiming for elegant minimalism. Greyson had shrugged into his clothes of yesterday and followed the creation of Associate Professor Charlotte Greenstone with some bemusement.

      ‘Why the disguise?’ he asked finally as she set his coffee in front of him, finished her grapes, and began smoothing back her wayward hair in readiness for a hairclip.

      ‘Who says it’s a disguise?’ she murmured.

      ‘Seems a little Plain Jane for you,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong.’

      ‘I’m a relatively youthful female giving undergraduate lectures and gunning for tenure within an antiquated and patriarchal employment system,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Respect comes a little easier to some if I look the part.’

      ‘What do you do about the ones who don’t respect your abilities, no matter how you dress?’

      ‘They get to learn the hard way.’

      Now she’d amused him.

      ‘What?’ she snapped. ‘Over twenty years of hands-on fieldwork and analysis not enough? Get back in the field, Charlotte, before your godmother’s contacts forget you,’ she mimicked grimly. ‘We wouldn’t want you to lose those, now, would we? Or the goodwill that comes with your family name. You are aware, Charlotte, that your ability to pull more funding than the rest of us put together has nothing to do with any actual talent for bringing particular projects and interested parties together? You have a brand name that implies excellent connections, inspired thinking, quality work, and exceptional results, that’s all. Don’t you be thinking that your success has anything to do with you.’

      Greyson said nothing.

      ‘You want to know the sad thing about it all?’ she said with a frustrated sigh. ‘They’re not entirely wrong. And now that Aurora’s dead, the naysayers are just waiting to see how much goodwill towards me died with her.’

      ‘How much goodwill towards you do you think died with her?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Charlotte wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘A lot of these people have known me since I was a baby. They knew my parents. Many of them tutored me in their various areas of expertise. They’ve followed my career, smoothed the way for me many times over. Because of the brand or because of me or because Aurora called in favours, who knows? I certainly don’t. And you really don’t need to hear any of this,’ she finished with a grimace. ‘Sorry. Touchy subject.’

      ‘So who do you run all this stuff by?’ he asked mildly.

      ‘Well … Gil happened to be a very good listener,’ she offered, which earned her one of those looks.

      ‘Would you like some advice?’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ she said warily. ‘I might.’

      ‘Don’t let anyone tell you that your success is due to your birthright or a brand you have no influence over. Yes, you had a head start, your upbringing saw to that. But your parents have been dead for, what, twenty years or so? And your godmother was retired for the last five?’

      ‘Something like that,’ she murmured.

      ‘And the funding for the projects just keeps coming?’

      Charlotte nodded.

      ‘Figured as much.’ He sipped his coffee. He kept her waiting. Charlotte hated waiting. She had a sneaking suspicion that Greyson knew it. ‘The way I see it, Professor, you are the brand and have been for some time,’ he said at last. ‘Your godmother knew it. I dare say she traded on it, added her own to it, taught you how to build