A Matter of Trust: London Calling Book One (28 page)

It was a play on shortening her name as she steadfastly balked at being called “Angie.” His deep bass voice with its roughened edges weakened her as always.
 

“Hm. Someone’s happy to see me,” she purred. She placed a delicate kiss just behind his ear and nestled deeper into his lap, eliciting a male groan of frustration.

“If you were ever on time, we could have done something about it.” He traced his hand over her shoulder and down to her hip, giving a suggestive squeeze.

She leaned back in mock outrage. “I doubt fifteen minutes would do the trick. What do you take me for, a quick roll in the hay?”

He pinched her bottom before giving it a light slap. “You’re more than fifteen minutes late, and you know it. Don’t worry, later I’ll show you exactly how much time it takes.”
 

She smiled while walking her fingers down his chest, inching toward his belt. “That sounds like a promise. I’ll be glad to hold you to it, Mr. Sinclair.” She leaned forward to press her lips to his.
 

He quickly took control, easing her closer with a hand at her back while deepening the kiss. After several long moments, she broke away to inhale breathlessly, hurriedly working her hands to his shirt buttons.
 

“John,” she murmured, “we have time. Let’s
make
time.”

Her blouse was unceremoniously unfastened and he hitched her up to take a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking her through the fine silk of her lingerie. She scrambled to straddle him, fighting with her narrow skirt to accommodate him while bracing her hands on his shoulders. He reached under her skirt, and she felt him touch her exactly where she ached, rubbing her through the whisper light panties she wore to match her camisole.
 

A distant siren wailed and Angeline froze. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized the door to John’s study was wide open.

“John,” she hissed, “where’s the nanny?” A nanny cared for Devon, Angeline and John’s daughter, during the daytime.

“Shh.” John gently withdrew his hand before rearranging Angeline back onto his lap. “She left early today. We’re alone.”

Angeline stiffened, moving to rise but he only tucked her more securely into him. “We’re alone? Where’s Devon?” She thumped John lightly on the arm. He always had this effect on her, distracting her from her responsibilities. Distracting her from everything.

John pressed a quick kiss of reassurance to her lips. “She’s fine, Lean. I dropped her off with Patrick and Alice. When I left, she was already playing with Dom, thick as thieves.” Patrick and Alice Martin were John’s closest and oldest friends. They had a son, Dominic, two years older than Devon. They were close, more like siblings than playmates.

As Angeline softened against him, he continued, “You need to relax, Ang. I would never do anything to hurt Devvie. Nothing is going to harm her.”

“I know.”
 

John raised a skeptical brow.
 

“I do. I know you love her as much as I do. I’m just protective, that’s all.” She leaned back to look at him for a moment before relaxing again. “I don’t want her to feel alone, stranded with strangers. I want her to feel safe.”

He bumped his chin on the top of her head, pressing down in a gesture of comfort. “She’s never alone. She’s always safe, honey. But you need to ease up a little, let her meet other people, other children. I don’t want her to become too sheltered or shy. Our job is to make her confident and ready for the world someday. She can’t do that if she lives in fear.”

Angeline sighed, knowing he was right. Her past was interfering with her present, and she’d vowed never to let that happen.

“Okay. Fair enough.” She rose from his lap, and this time he allowed it. She held out a hand in invitation. “Shall we go upstairs and get ready? We don’t have much time before we need to leave.”

He joined her, walking by her side up the wide staircase to their room. They were attending a jewelry showing at a riverfront hotel. As her husband shed his unbuttoned shirt to replace it with another in crisp white, she gazed at him with love in her eyes.

“Thanks for going with me, John. I know these things bore you to tears.”

His back was turned to her, so she missed the way his mouth quirked up.

“Actually, I’m quite interested. Perhaps I’ll find something perfect for my wife, since we have an anniversary coming up. Plus, they always display jewelry on beautiful furniture at these events. And you know I love good craftsmanship.”

Angeline narrowed her eyes, prowling close to curve her front against his back. She reached around to caress his abdominals and smiled to herself as she felt his instinctive quiver. “Hmm. I know you do. But you rarely get excited about museum pieces. Or at least not since you were involved in less than pristine work.” His stomach tensed against her hand. “I hope you’re not reconsidering your promise to me?”

When they’d met, John was actively involved in “the grift,” as he called it. He and Patrick made filthy amounts of money from unsuspecting clients who contacted them in hopes of obtaining rare and valued acquisitions. In fact, he’d walked into the museum she worked at in New Orleans partially in an effort to study their extensive collection of Stickley furniture. He’d carefully examined the shop marks on each piece, taking photos of the burned-in branding, metal tags, and decals used over various periods of time.

As their relationship became serious, he’d eventually confessed to his illicit activities. Horrified, Angeline made him promise to stop and find a better way. She would help him legitimize his business and cater to her socially elite and powerful contacts.

As far as she knew, everything was going extremely well. They’d left New Orleans, deciding a clean slate was best. Patrick and Alice moved with them to Savannah, where they set up a small store downtown near the city’s old Cotton Exchange building.
 

John was suspiciously silent. Taking a handful of his shirt placket, she twisted him around to face her. His mischievous grin and dancing gray eyes greeted her, easing her concern.

“Stop teasing,” she said. “You know I worry about everything. I just need to know you’re no longer the sort of man to take advantage of other people.”

His face sobered. Bringing a hand to her cheek, he cupped her face. “Angeline, you know my past—what I did and what that made me. But I swear I’m a better man now.
You
make me a better man.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’m so lucky you love me. I’ve never done a single thing to deserve someone like you.”

Angeline’s eyes filled with tears. Wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug, she kissed his chest before tipping her head up to lock desperate lips to his.
 

“Hey, hey—it’s okay. Don’t cry.” He tilted her head back to thumb away the single tear that traced her cheek. “You’ll make me break my pledge.”

She sniffed. “What pledge?”

“To only bring you happiness. You’re my golden girl, Ang. I never want you to regret choosing me—not for a single moment.”

She gifted him a watery smile. “Never, John Sinclair. Not in your lifetime or mine.”

Want more?
 

Buy it
HERE
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A N
OTE
F
ROM
K
AT

I’d like to sincerely thank you for reading about Devon and Bennett in
A Matter of Trust,
Book One in my
London Calling
series. If you enjoyed their story but want to know more about what
really
happened with Angeline and John Sinclair, then please check out
Losing Angeline, London Calling Book Two.

Make sure you don’t miss new releases and free books by joining my readers’ group! Sign up at
http://www.katfaitour.com
and join the fun.
 

Finally, if you loved the book, it would do me a great service if you were to leave a short review on Amazon. Your assistance in recommending the book spreads the word to new readers and helps others find my series.

Thank you!
 

Kat Faitour
 

http://www.katfaitour.com

A
BOUT
K
AT
F
AITOUR

I write about modern, sexy characters in fabulous settings. No matter what, romance is always guaranteed in my emotionally punchy, smart, and passionate stories.

My lifelong love affair with books began at the age of three when my brother taught me to read. It was an ambitious undertaking, since he was only five. He always made sure I kept up with what he was reading, which meant I missed out on books by Dr. Seuss in favor of those by J.R.R. Tolkien and Anne McCaffrey.

Unfortunately for my brother (and fortunately for me), I was introduced to romance as a young teen and nothing has been the same since. While I still read his fantasy and fiction picks, my passion always brings me back to romances with compelling emotional stories.

Alas, my brother believes me to be a libertine, abandoning the realms of higher genre fiction to wallow in sexy stories about beautiful people in gorgeous places.

I suppose he’s right. But I remind him all the best stories are adventures. And what better adventure than two people finding each other, learning to love, and spending their lives together?