Her Foreign Affair by Shea Mcmaster Page B

and we take their spots.”
    His nearly silent laugh teased her ear. “So cruel.”
    “The other option is to stretch out on the floor, or sit on the floor and insinuate ourselves between them by leaning back against the couch.”
    “Sounds hard.” His hand cupped her bottom. “We don’t want to abuse this pretty posterior.”
    If only… Man she’d love to sit on his hand for awhile and let it do more delicious things to her. Quashing a groan before it escaped, she made an attempt to push him back with her shoulder. “I have floor pillows. A nap on the carpet is a time-honored tradition. You can take the rocking chair, and I’ll sit in the open spot by Jordan.”
    “No.” His answer left no room for argument. She hadn’t thought he’d like that suggestion much, so it came as no surprise.
    Sneaky Court moved his hand, stroking her back in a way no one else would see, unless they looked at her face. Of course he didn’t want her sitting next to Jordan. Court’s breath warmed her ear while his finger drew a line down her spine, right past her waist and down between her buttocks. Without a pause, he glided his most wicked finger straight into the space between her legs. Right at the very top of her thighs.
    “Would they miss us if we, say, wandered off to your bedroom?” He echoed her earlier thought as if reading her mind. “We still have lots to talk about. We’ve barely touched the subject of the last twenty-two and a half years.”
    Randi cleared her throat. “Bad form. Rude to guests and all that,” she muttered. “We’ll talk once the extra two leave.”
    “Who’s to be polite for? Jordan? No loss there.” His finger curved upward, stroking her through the layers of her clothing, wearing at her resolve to walk away. It wouldn’t take much more for her already weak defenses to completely crumble. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and pick up where they’d left off in the powder room. But with her father shooting glances her direction, she didn’t dare. The very fragile secret was close to exploding into the open, and she needed to hang on to it, just a little longer. Which meant shutting Court down.
    “Down boy. Once the game is over, we’ll usher the other two out the door. Until then, I have to play nice. If you want to plead jet lag and go lie down in your room, you’re allowed.”
    “Only if you come with me.”
    If only she could. “No can do.”
    “Then I’ll kick Drew to the floor. He’s a good pup.”
    Aghast, she glanced over her shoulder. “He is not a pup.”
    “Oh, yes, he is. He’s like one of those retrievers you Yanks are so attached to. Golden Retrievers? He’s exactly like one. Makes friends with everyone, smiles all the time, happy to be wherever he is at the moment as long as he has someone to talk to.”
    Randi held back her chuckle, but smiled. That pretty much described Birdie as well if one were to try to compare her to a dog. No, a little chickadee or a canary fit better with her. She’d been well nicknamed.
    “Anyhow, toss him a pillow and he’ll make happy on the floor.”
    The look she gave Court over her shoulder this time should have made him wither away, but no, the devil she remembered grinned back at her.
    “Fine.” She reached for the coffee pot. “Anyone need a refill?” she called out to the room in general. Groans of denial came back.
    “What’s the special brew you wanted to make me?” Court asked.
    “Take your seat and I’ll bring it to you. Pillows are behind the sofa.”
    Randi watched from the corner of her eye as Court disrupted the lazy folks nearly comatose on the couch. From her secret stash, hidden at the very back of the liquor cabinet, she pulled out a dark brown bottle of hazelnut liqueur. She’d once overheard a man refer to it as panty-melter. Talk about setting herself up for trouble with a capital T. Right, as if she could have more trouble on her hands than she already had?
    On a wave of recklessness, in went