“Nothing.” Kit dragged a hand across his nape. “I only have to last two more days. Then we’ll return to the city and I won’t see her again.”

“She really has you tied up in knots, doesn’t she?”

An understatement. He’d nearly pounced on her in the kitchen a little bit ago. Considered putting her up on the worktable and lifting her skirts, where he could hear her whimpers and taste her moans while he brought her to orgasm once or twice. “It’s fine. I can control myself for two more days.”

“There are simple solutions,” Harrison offered. “You could tell her you have enough recipes. Or you could visit one of the houses in—”

“No,” Kit said, his tone sharp.

Harrison chuckled. “All right.”

“Do not infer anything from that answer. I want as many of Franconi’s recipes as I can get.”

“Oh, indeed,” Harrison drawled. “The recipes.”

“Fuck you.”

Harrison threw his head back and laughed. “This is refreshing. I like having a partner in misery.”

“Enjoy it, then, because my misery will only last for the next two days. And I really do need those recipes.”

They stood in companionable silence for several minutes while the waves crashed below in the darkness. The wind continued, a steady and bracing sting on Kit’s skin. He wondered if Alice had gone to her room, if she had undressed for bed. He pictured a prim white nightgown that covered her from head to toe, her luscious little body hidden from prying eyes, even at night. Would she crawl under the covers, lift that nightgown and touch herself? Slide the pads of her fingers over her clitoris—

Damn it. He gritted his teeth against the wave of lust cramping in his belly. He couldn’t think about Alice pleasuring herself now. Or ever.

“I can hear your mind spinning,” Harrison said, blowing out smoke. “So, what are you going to do about her?”

“Keep it platonic. Just talking and no more . . . other things.”

“Good luck,” Harrison said, his tone full of skepticism. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. I should know, considering I’ve been resisting the impulse for other things for years.”

“I can do it. I resisted punching my father in the face my entire life. I can remain strictly friends with an innocent shipping heiress from Boston.”

Harrison made a scoffing sound in his throat. “You act as if you’re thinking with your brain in these moments. I predict you won’t even last a day.”

“Wrong.” Kit took another drink. “I can do it. It’s just two days.” If he kept repeating his positive affirmation, he would succeed.

Hopefully.

Chapter Nine

Alice paced in Kit’s bedroom. It was late but he still wasn’t here. He had to seek his bed soon, didn’t he?