Stunned, she jerked back. "Million? American dollars?"
"Sounds like Monopoly money, doesn't it?" He chuckled. "She's not satisfied with the British offer-and since my current book is steady at number one on the London Times, she's squeezing them a bit." Absently he nipped her by the waist, pressed his lips to her brow, her temple. "Sticking Point opens in New York next month."
"Opens?"
"Mmm. The movie. Arlene thought I might like to go to the premiere."
"Of your own movie. You must."
"There's no musts. Seems like old news. Flashback's now."
His lips teased the corner of her mouth and her breath began to hitch. "Flashback?"
"The book I'm working on. It's the only one that matters." His eyes narrowed, lost focus. "He has to find the book. Shit, how could I have missed that? It's the whole thing." He jerked back, dragged a hand through his hair. "Once he finds it, he won't have any choice, will he? That's what makes it personal."
Every nerve ending in her body was humming from the imprint of his lips. "What are you talking about? What book?"
"Deliah's diary. That's what links past and present. There'll be no walking away after he reads it. He'll have to-" Gray shook his head, like a man coming out, or moving into a trance. "I've got to get to work."
He was halfway up the stairs, and Brianna's heart was still thudding dully. "Grayson?"
"What?"
He was already steeped in his own world, she noted, torn between amusement and irritation. That impatient gleam was in his eyes, eyes she doubted were even seeing her. "Don't you want some food?"
"Just leave a tray when you have a chance. Thanks."
And he was gone.
Well. Brianna set her hands on her hips and managed to laugh at herself. The man had all but seduced her into a puddle, and didn't even know it. Off he went with Deliah and her diary, murd
er and mayhem, leaving her system ticking like an overwound watch.
For the best, she assured herself. All that hand kissing and nibbling had weakened her. And it was foolish, wasn't it, to go weak over a man who would be gone from her home and her country as carelessly as he'd gone from her parlor.
But oh, she thought as she walked to the kitchen, it made her wonder what it would be like. What it would be like to have all that energy, all that attention, all that skill focused only on her. Even for a short time. Even for only one night.
She would know then, wouldn't she, what it felt like to give pleasure to a man? And to take it. Loneliness might be bitter after, but the moment might be sweet.
Might. Too many mights, she warned herself and fixed Gray a generous plate of cold lamb and cheese croquettes. She carried it up, taking it into his room without speaking.
He didn't acknowledge her, nor did she expect it now. Not when he was hulked over his little machine, his eyes slitted, his fingers racing. He did grunt when she poured the tea and set a cup at his elbow.
When she caught herself smiling, checking an urge to run a hand down that lovely gold-tipped hair, she decided it was a very good time to walk over to Murphy's and ask him about fixing her car.
The exercise helped work out those last jittery frissons of need. It was her time of year, the spring, when the birds called, the flowers bloomed, and the hills glowed so green your throat ached to look at them.
The light was gilded, the air so clear that she could hear the putt-putt of Murphy's tractor two fields over. Charmed by the day, she swung the basket she carried and sang to herself. As she climbed over a low stone wall, she smiled at the spindly legged foal that nursed greedily while his mother cropped grass. She spent a moment in admiration, another few stroking both mother and baby before wandering on.
Perhaps she would walk to Maggie's after seeing Murphy, she thought. It was only a matter of weeks now before the baby was due. Someone needed to tend Maggie's garden, do a bit of wash.
Laughing, she stopped, crouching down when Con raced over the field toward her.
"Been farming, have you? Or just chasing rabbits. No, 'tisn't for you," she said, hooking the basket higher as the dog sniffed around it. "But I've a fine bone at home waiting." Hearing Murphy's hail, she straightened, waved her arm in greeting.
He shut off his tractor and hopped down as she walked over the newly turned earth.
"A fine day for planting."
"The finest," he agreed and eyed the basket. "What have you there, Brie?"
"A bribe."
"Oh, I'm made of stronger stuff than that."
"Sponge cake."
He closed his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm your man."
"That you are." But she held the basket tantalizingly out of reach. " Tis my car again, Murphy."
Now his look was pained. "Brianna, darling, it's time for the wake there. Past time."
"Couldn't you just take a peek?"
He looked at her, then at the basket. "The whole of the sponge cake?"
"Every crumb."
"Done." He took the basket, set it up on the tractor seat.
"But I'm warning you, you'll need a new one before summer."
"If I do, I do. But I've my heart set on the greenhouse, so the car has to last a wee bit longer. Did you have time to look at my drawings for the greenhouse, Murphy?"
"I did. Could be done." Taking advantage of the break, he pulled out a cigarette, lighted it. "I made a few adjustments."