All About Charming Alice by J. Arlene Culiner Page A

estimation of him, of the male sex in general.
    “Goodness gracious,” exclaimed Rose. “Look at the time.”
    “Time for bed,” said Jace, rising. Alice looked at him sharply, searching for innuendoes, trying to see if she could intercept a knowing glance between him and Rose. There wasn’t one. In fact, they were making an effort at showing that there was nothing more than polite friendliness between them.
    “Bye, Alice,” said Rose and gave a little flutter of her hand.
    “I’ll lock the door after you,” said Jace.
    There, that would give them time alone. Look at how quickly Jace had jumped at the chance to see Rose to the door.
Alice stacked the dishes in the sink with a grim violence and tried not to notice how long he was gone, although it seemed to be hours. But she was less angry with the two of them than she was with herself and her evident jealousy.
    She was so lost in morose thoughts that when Jace reappeared with a dishtowel in his hand, she jumped. He picked up a plate and began to dry it.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Drying the dishes,” said Jace calmly. “If we share the job, it’ll get done faster.” He examined her face. “And you are exhausted.”
    “But you’re a paying guest! You can’t do chores.”
    “I can. All you have to do is charge me extra.” He grinned.
    “Look … ” Alice began.
    “You’re dripping soap all over the floor.”
    She was. The suds slid down over her hands.
    “You can’t stop me from doing what I want, you know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m a pretty determined guy.”
    “I’ve noticed,” she answered grimly. Turning back to the sink, she tackled the rest of the dishes and found, despite her best intentions, that her mouth had twitched itself into a smile.
    Okay. It was ridiculous, denying the pleasure his presence gave her. Standing here, side by side, doing this simple domestic chore together, it was as if they’d been doing it for years; that’s how natural it felt. She tried to calm the fluttering of her heart. He was only being nice. A polite guest.
    When the last dish had finally been put away, she moved swiftly to the door. No reason on earth to prolong this intimacy a minute longer. He followed her out to the long dark corridor where only a feeble lamp burned. Pausing at the foot of the steps, she turned.
    “Thanks.” She kept her voice cool, impersonal and dismissive although her nerves were pulled as tight as catgut strings on a violin. “Sleep well.”
    He was standing too close, once again. He always did, come to think of it. The warmth of his body reached her in the dim, secret shadow. She saw his eyes drop to the curve of her lips and felt his want. She knew how he felt. Despite herself, despite her determination to resist, the slow flame was burning in her belly too.
    He raised his hand, lifted her chin with the tip of his strong finger.
    With any remaining resistance, she tried to shake her head. “No,” she whispered. She saw the gleam in his eyes. He would never accept “no” if he wanted something. Hadn’t he said that?
    But he didn’t make a move.
    She was the one who stepped in closer, letting her breasts caress the tightness of his chest. She was the one who sought his lips. She was the one who showed him she wanted him.
    In the split second before his eyes closed, she saw the heat, the pleasure and his astonishment. He lowered his mouth to her warm, questing one, brushed her lips, once, twice. Brushed them again. Then the kiss deepened, expressed infinite desire. She soared, responded, melted, felt her hips lifting, arching against him, and when he groaned softly, she felt a thrill of triumph.
    “Alice.” It was a gasp, a plea and a declaration, all at the same time. He pulled her closer.
    She also wanted more, wanted him in her bed, wanted his nakedness against hers. But was it worth it? Worth the heartbreak of being a temporary partner in a lusty short affair? Here was raw desire. But what