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He knew his voice was unnecessarily harsh from the way her face jerked up to meet his, but he didn’t care. In fact, he hoped it would encourage her to keep her distance. And remind her who was in charge.
‘I was just playing around with some oils.’
His eyes dropped to the neat wooden case and despite himself he realised he was interested. A lot more interested than he had been earlier, talking to Dan Ryan.
‘Playing to what end?’ he found himself asking.
There was a tiny fluttering pause as her brown eyes rested on his face, composed but wary. ‘I’m trying to create a fragrance.’
Of course she was. Probably another wicked concoction that would make his head spin like a carousel.
‘And how do you do that?’
This time the pause that followed his question seemed to stretch through the open French windows to the horizon.
‘It’s a process,’ she said at last. ‘I start with an idea of the end scent, and then I have to think about what raw materials might produce that effect. In this case, I want to create something that is not too heavy. I want it to come and go like the lightest of breezes. But I still want it to stop you in your tracks.’
Effie was speaking quietly but he could hear her excitement, her passion. Glancing down, he noted both her flushed cheeks and the press of her nipples against the fabric of her dress, and he felt his body tighten with a different excitement as he remembered how she had turned to flame in his arms.
Had that been a one-off? Did making perfume normally absorb all her passion? What if some of that passion escaped again?
It was only then that he realised Effie was staring up at him, and that he had no idea how much time had passed since she’d started speaking.
‘...that’s the plan...’ Her voice trailed off and she began to pick up the vials and slot them back in the case. ‘Anyway, did you want to go over what we talked about this morning?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I want to know how you make a fragrance that comes and goes but stops you in your tracks.’ Actually, it was simpler even than that. He just wanted her to keep talking. ‘I need to know,’ he added quickly. ‘I mean, I would know something about your job if this was a real relationship.’
She stared at him as if considering the logic of his words. ‘I suppose that’s true.’ Her small white teeth chewed at her lip. ‘Well, I started with neroli...but it wasn’t vivacious enough.’ Picking up one of the vials, she squeezed a drop of oil onto one of the thin strips of card and waved it in front of her face. ‘This works better. It’s bergamot. It’s one of my favourites because it’s the most multi-faceted of all the citrus materials.’
Leaning forward, he took the blotting paper from her hand. Her fingers brushed against his and he felt that phosphorus flare of desire as her eyes jerked up to his face at the whisper of contact.
He breathed in cautiously. ‘Oranges? But spicier?’
She nodded. ‘There’s a woody aspect which will work well with the base notes I have in mind.’
He watched her run her hand over the vials.
‘Now, because bergamot can be a little warm, I want to add clarity and brightness with pink pepper.’
It was oddly relaxing, watching her open the bottles and add tiny drops of pepper, then lime and lavender. In fact, he felt calmer than he had in weeks.
‘Is that it?’ he asked.
‘I wish.’
She shook her head, and then suddenly he forgot all about the perfume and the deal he’d made with her, and even about the ache in his chest, because she smiled a smile of such sweetness that everything he’d thought he knew and cared about was erased. It was a smile that changed her face, added light and colour and something indefinable, so that he found himself smiling back at her.
‘This is just the starting point,’ she said. ‘Like the rough sketch of a dress you want to make. From here, I’ll have to keep playing with different oils to build the composition, and then I’ll have to add the alcohol.’
He held her gaze. ‘How do you remember it all?’
She lifted up a notebook—the cheap kind with a cardboard cover. ‘I take notes. Why don’t you try some of the samples while I get this down on paper? See if you can work out what they are. Then maybe you can try mixing some oils.’
In other words, he should play quietly.
Watching her pick up a pen, he felt an odd mix of outrage and admiration. He hadn’t been told what to do since he was a child. In business, most people fell over themselves to attract his attention and hold it. It was the same with women.
But not this woman. She had that same purity of focus that he’d had at her age.
