Read Touch Me for Free Online Page B

hitched. Dear God, he was beautiful when he was serious, but when he smiled… oh, my. “I’m delighted that I brought you not only your favorite flower, but in your favorite color. What else?”
    It took her several seconds to recall what they were discussing. Then she cleared her throat. “Cats. Books. Artwork.”
    He nodded and glanced around the room. “You’ve some lovely pieces.” He tilted his chin toward the painting hanging over the mantel. “That piece, in particular, is remarkable. It’s so vivid I can almost feel the sea spray hitting my face.”
    Genevieve glanced at the painting she’d created, at the swirling waves crashing against the rocks, and recalled the first time she’d touched a paintbrush to canvas as a young girl, so filled with hope, her hands free of the arthritis that would strike her years later as an adult, stunting her talent and leading to heartbreak.
    Her gaze strayed to the woman standing at the top of the cliffs amidst a profusion of swaying wildflowers. She faced the tumultuous waters, her features indistinguishable, yet Genevieve knew who she was. Or at least who she was supposed to be.
    “Thank you. It’s a particular favorite of mine.”
    He rose and moved to the mantel, leaning forward to more closely examine the painting. “The pattern of brushstrokes is very unusual,” he said.
    Genevieve’s brows rose. He showed unexpected knowledge for a steward. “You are a student of art?”
    He hesitated for several seconds, then turned to smile at her over his shoulder. “In so far as Mr. Jonas-Smythe enjoys adding to his collection, I therefore need to know something of the subject.” He returned to his seat. “The painting isn’t signed.”
    “No.” She’d never signed any of her work, a matter of discretion as Richard had placed many of her pieces in his homes.
    “Where did you get it?”
    “It was a gift.” To herself, which made the statement true, although not completely truthful. But then she had no intention of telling him the truth.
    His attention shifted to the doorway and she followed his gaze. Sophia meandered into the room, tail high, every line of her proclaiming that this was her house and those within it were fortunate that she allowed them to be there.
    “It appears your mention of a weakness for cats was overheard,” he said.
    “That’s Sophia. I’m afraid she’s rather shy…”
    Her words trailed off as her pet, who usually couldn’t be bothered with strangers unless they offered her food, trotted toward Mr. Cooper as if a rasher of kippers hungaround his neck. To Genevieve’s surprise, Sophia jumped onto Mr. Cooper’s lap without hesitation. She batted his lapel with her front paw, twitched her fluffy tail under his nose, then settled herself across his thighs as if he were her own personal mattress. Looking across at Genevieve through squinty eyes, she kneaded her front paws against Mr. Cooper’s breeches and purred so loudly, it sounded as if three cats were in the room.
    Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. “Um, yes, I can see she is extremely shy.” When he lightly scratched her pet’s head, Sophia closed her eyes and stretched her neck into his touch.
    Genevieve stared in amazement. “She’s never behaved like that with a stranger before. It’s almost as if she knows you.”
    He shrugged lightly. “Animals like me.”
    Good Lord, the sight of his long, strong fingers stroking her cat caused flutters in Genevieve’s belly.
    “Tell me more about your weaknesses,” he said.
    She forced her gaze away from that stroking hand. More of her weaknesses? She dared not. Especially as it appeared she had one for him. “I’ve already confessed mine. It’s your turn.”
    Petting the sleepy-eyed cat with one hand, he sipped from his tea with the other, his gaze never leaving hers. His unwavering regard flustered her in a way she refused to show. Yet for all her outward serenity, her insides quivered with something she’d thought long