Edison pointed to the jars. "Then what's all this about?"
Ada crouched down until the jars were at eye level. “If I adjust the level of the stabilizer, I can squeeze out a few more volts. Hand me that chloride, would you? It's next to the iron chloride. The red one."
Edison plucked the vial of clear liquid off the shelf, and handed it to her. The jolt of electrical energy that hit him square in the chest, had nothing to do with actual electricity.
Damned if it wasn't the brush of her slender fingers against his. He couldn't think of the last time such a casual touch had affected him so deeply. He couldn't think of the last time he liked it.
Especially when the touch came attached to a woman so far out of his reach.
Habit made him lean close, so his breath would caress her ear. He'd been told more than once it made women shiver delightfully. "I'll find it eventually, you know."
Instead of melting, instead of softening or shivering or sighing, she jerked away as if he reeked like a fishmonger.
"Search all you like.” She measured chloride into each beaker. “You won't find it."
Dear God, he’d seen granite cliffs less stubborn. Edison pinched the bridge of his nose. If charm had no effect, intimidation might.
He lifted the beaker from her hand and set it on the bench.
She glared fiercely. “I beg your pardon?”
He ignored her, and closed in, backing her up against a filing cabinet. When she could back up no further, he spread his arms wide, his palms flat against the cabinet front, pinning her in.
He’d planned to frighten her, to scare her into letting him have the device. But that sweet scent wrapped around him, obscuring his train of thought in a sensual mist. All he could think of were her lips, slightly parted and begging to be kissed.
“What are your intentions?”
The words did not match the tone. The tone was soft and sweet and—dare he hope—welcoming. “What would you like them to be?”
Her mouth opened wider. Her chest rose and fell as her breath deepened and her eyes dilated.
“I believe I should like you to kiss me,” she said, finally.
“I believe I can accommodate that request.” He leaned in, letting his chest brush her breasts.
She shivered in a most pleasing way. And then, with a small grunt of annoyance, she cupped the sides of his face with her hands and pulled his mouth down toward hers. “Do you always chatter this much?”
Being a man of action, Edison could not let such an accusation stand.
He covered her mouth with his, tasting her. He kissed her slowly, heavily, achingly aware it would no doubt prove to be a grave mistake.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with an enthusiasm that made his head whirl. While he explored her sweet mouth, he spread his hands over her ribs, letting his thumbs caress the very base of her breasts where they thrust out, above her corset.
A tiny moan of pleasure shuddered through her. She slid her fingertips through his hair and kissed him back with rising urgency.
Edison slid his hands upward until her breasts filled his hands. Round and firm and pleasingly heavy, they taunted him, driving his desire even higher, making him ache with the need to feel her naked beneath him.
She made a soft, erotic sound and pressed into his palms.
“Edison?”
Even through the fog of passion, he heard his name. But the direction was all wrong. The voice, loud and sure and devoid of passion came from outside, across the lawn.
He groaned against Ada’s mouth and broke off the kiss, his body still hot and heavy and pulsing with desire. “Hell’s teeth.”
Eyes wide, Ada blinked up at him. Her lips red and full from his kisses, she looked as stunned by their mutual passion as he felt.
He lifted a stray lock of hair off of her cheek and tucked it back behind her ear, watching the glow in her eyes sharpen into alarm. “That,” she whispered, “was a tremendously bad idea.”
Although he had to agree, her assessment stabbed him straight in the heart.
It was a bad idea. A spectacularly bad idea.
The worst of it was, he ached to do it again.
*
Never—not once in her life—had a kiss set her aflame.
And from now on, she’d be exquisitely aware of what she’d been missing.
It altered her. As surely as hydrogen transformed oxygen into water, that kiss changed her, transmuting her atoms, her very chemistry.
Ada stared up at Edison, wondering if he’d been similarly affected, even as she knew with certainty that he hadn’t.
But for the slight reddening of his lips and his riffled hair, one would never have known they’d been fused together, mouth to mouth, body to body not seconds before. Worldly men like Edison Sweet played at seduction as frequently as they ate buttered toast.
Which was precisely why it had been such a spectacularly bad idea.
After tucking the lock of hair behind her ear, he’d stepped back, taking his warmth with him. He plucked at the shoulders of her blouse, smoothing away the wrinkles and then straightening her collar as if he were readying a small child for church. Not a shred of heat or passion remained in his impersonal touch.
She wondered how he did that, how he threw off such powerful emotions so easily. Her body still pulsed with desire, even as she knew the rest of his league would burst through the door any second.
She snuck a look around his broad frame. Five figures hurtled down the lawn toward them. Two men, one gray-haired, the other not much older than she, struggled with a great steamer trunk. A woman in a delightful green walking dress led the way, followed by another with striking auburn curls that cascaded down her back. Behind them all trailed a younger woman, hurrying to keep pace with the rest.
Every one of them exuded purpose and energy.
She tensed, preparing for the whirlwind about to rip through her quiet world.
As if he could read her thoughts, Edison squeezed her hand. “They don’t bite. At least not without good reason.”
His footfalls silent on the plank floor, he sped to the door and held it open for her.
“Hello.” The woman in green waved as Ada stepped outside.
Shading her eyes with a hand, Ada blinked in the bright sunlight. Edison took her elbow, guiding her toward the approaching crowd.
Edison stopped in front of the woman in green. "Mrs. Templeton, this is my cousin, Mrs. Philomena Crane."
While a wide smile lit Mrs. Crane’s face, Ada didn’t miss the speculative gleam in her eye as she studied the two of them.
Ada felt as if she were covered in telltale clues. She stilled under the scrutiny, praying no signs of Edison’s kisses showed on her face.
“Please call me Meena,” the woman said, offering a hand.
“I’m Ada.” She liked the woman immediately. Edison’s cousin was pretty, in a most genuine manner. A quick, lively intelligence lit her face.
"That is my husband, Spencer.” Meena pointed at an impossibly handsome man leaning a hip against the trunk.