Divine Fire by Melanie Jackson Read Free Book Online

surroundings rather than by good manners.
    “Did you know that I’m a mind reader?” he asked, proving her suspicions.
    “No.” She cleared her throat and glanced at the large mirror behind the desk, wondering if her expression was giving her away. But she looked normal, even if she felt odd. She went on the offensive. “Wouldn’t that be discomforting at times?”
    “At times. For some people,” he answered, deliberately misunderstanding her. “But to answer your unspoken question—yes, that is the painting that Byron commissioned. An ancestor of mine bought it many moons ago. He thought it was the perfect whimsical touch for an otherwise serious office.”
    “He seems to have bought a lot of things for the place,” Brice retorted, and then blushed again. This time there could be no doubt that he saw the stains on her cheeks.
    “You are correct. The Ruthvens were here at the birth of the industrial era and enthusiastic participants in the legal pillage of this nation’s natural resources. The name Ruthven is not as well known today as Rockefeller or Dupont, but we went to many of the same parties. I hope you won’t hold that against me, though. Truly, my taste in art and sense of civic responsibility are much improved over that era.”
    The door opened, and Karen entered, carrying a tray loaded down with a teapot, cups and saucers, creamer, sugar bowl, scones, clotted cream, lemon curd and jam. One whiff of the pastry and Brice’s stomach began to grumble in loud, rude tones.
    “You’ve apparently arrived in the very nick of time. Our guest requires immediate sustenance,” Damien joked.
    Karen smiled at Brice; then her eyes darted toward Damien where they widened. “The food was as bad as the tea?” she asked Brice sympathetically, though her eyes remained on her employer.
    Brice was a student of human nature. Having seen Damien Ruthven and felt the effects of his charm, she could well imagine that Karen Andersen was smitten with her employer and not happy to see him appearing so invigorated by the presence of another woman. Brice half expected Karen to look at her as if she wished her in a bed of banana leaves with a roast apple stuffed in her mouth and cloves studding her hide. But there was nothing but surprise and—damn—more curiosity in the woman’s gaze when she turned back. Clearly the fungus of envy had not set its spores in her. Either she was not romantically interested in her employer or she did not perceive Brice as a threat. Karen was curious, though. Very curious.
    “Worse by far. And I couldn’t even use it for compresses,” Brice said finally, returning Karen’s smile. Her stomach rumbled again. She might have blushed more, but that didn’t seem possible.
    “Just don’t spoil your appetite. You’re in for a treat tonight.” The secretary poured a cup of tea and handed it over.
    “I am?” Brice accepted the cup, looking from Karen to Damien. Karen’s eyes were twinkling in an alarming manner. Damien looked vaguely annoyed at the pronouncement, but also resigned. He was apparently used to his secretary being well acquainted with his affairs.
    Was it another hint of long-term intimacy?
    And why should she care? Really, she shouldn’t.
    Still…Brice found that she did care. Damien Ruthven was her find. She didn’t meet many intriguing people, she told herself, and she wanted the opportunity to get to know this one without interference.
    “We have reservations for dinner at seven—if you are not too tired,” Damien added as an afterthought. “I hope you like Italian and French cooking. There is a small place near hear that does some wonderful fusion cuisine.”
    “I adore them both—singularly and collectively,” Brice said, but inside she was thinking hard. Was dinner with this man a good idea? For that matter, was being in his home at all wise? It had seemed a good idea when she’d thought it up, but it was looking less sensible by the moment. The line between home