Read Powder of Love (I) for Free Online

to watch her rebuff Clermont more than once during their long visit. Miss Ambermere wouldn’t fall into Clermont’s arms, thank goodness.
    When they went to call on her, he’d supposed they’d visited her for the usual reasons.
    During their calls upon most independent females, Reed’s job was to remain as invisible as possible while making certain the lady truly wanted Clermont. He was to allow Clermont and his choice to conduct their “flirtation” and eventually, discreetly disappear. That was the usual procedure.
    By God, this lady had more in her mind than cocks and innuendos.
    He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the company of females. She’d talked of New York and England, and she’d made him want to laugh when she’d tried to drive them out of her parlor.
    Clermont’s conversation and diary reduced each woman to a series of curves and hot, wet holes of mouths, vaginas, and arseholes. During their visit with Miss Ambermere, he’d realized how pleasant it was to remember they were humans. Miss Ambermere was a person and, even better, never the sort who’d come calling for Clermont in his hotel, looking for mindless pleasure.
    Oh, dear God.
    Miss Ambermere stood in the doorway, squeezing her hands together, obviously nervous.
    His heart sank even as he rose to his feet, determined to be polite. He’d simply ignore the nearly overwhelming urge to grab her, shake her, and shout in her face.
    She smiled at him. He managed to speak. His lips felt stiff. “I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to visit our rooms.”
    Her delicate eyebrows rose. She seemed on the verge of an angry retort when he blurted, “Miss Ambermere. You are a—” He stopped himself in time. He was an employee hired to keep Clermont from despoiling innocents and harming women who cared about their good names. But if a rich idiot of a girl wanted to operate in the same hedonistic manner, it was none of his business. Even if the thought of Clermont and this woman together filled him with nausea.
    “What is the matter?” she asked as he led her out into the corridor.
    “Nothing at all.” He tried not to sneer. “If you are fully cognizant of your…your interest in Mr. Clermont, I will send word to him. I ask that you go to your own house rather than—”
    “Mr. Reed. I don’t understand you. And why are you looking at me as if I’ve broken out in some sort of horrible rash? I’m aware you are prone to moodiness, but I don’t think I deserve to be glared at.”
    “I beg your pardon.” He bowed, determined to remain as professional as he could. He had nothing else to cling to at the moment. “You’re absolutely correct. Should I have Mr. Clermont paged?”
    “No, you’ll do.” She reached up to adjust her hat. The way she lifted her arms—a deliberately seductive motion, so much more effective than the more obvious motions he’d seen other women employ.
    “I-I am not available.” He found the words surprisingly difficult to speak. She might be a reckless fool, but she was still amusing, had a mind. And her body—oh Lord. He’d seen so many naked female bodies in the last year, but still longed to see this one unclothed. His cock stirred at the thought. All right, if she had such hungers, why couldn’t he be the one to assuage them?
    “You’re not available?” She frowned, disappointed.
    He opened his mouth to say he’d changed his mind, that he’d go with her to her house and her bedroom—any place she named—when she continued. “But my lawyer said you had also expressed an interest in the, ah, substance I’ve inherited.”
    Lord in heaven.
    The substance . He’d forgotten she was Lord Williamsford’s heir.
    Reed had been dealing with the dithering lawyer, Mr. Dorsey, and had entirely forgotten she owned the object Clermont was after. This was the power of a man’s sexual drive—it destroyed his brain.
    He attempted a smile as he gabbled, “Oh. Yes, of course. You’re correct. I can help you.”
    He