Page 71 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Rash?” She deliberately hiked a brow. “I think not.”
“Then perhaps, you should think again.” His voice was low and deliciously gruff. “I am certainly capable ofcarpe diem.”
“You do realize thatseize the daydoes not refer to the most efficient use of your time?”
“Ah, Belle, you wound me. My Latin tutors ensured I knew the meaning.”
Again, she hiked a brow. “Making reference to your Latin tutors does not strengthen your case.”
“I had not thought you so cruel,” he said in a teasing tone. “Surely you have not forgotten the night we’d made our first acquaintance.”
The memory of that moonlit gala flashed through her mind. “By midnight, you’d kissed me on the steps of the art museum.” An unbidden warmth crept over her cheeks. “I suppose that might’ve been considered a bit impulsive.”
“Only a bit?” An appealingly crooked grin played on his mouth. “If I were to kiss you—right here, right now—many would consider that rash.”
“Most definitely.”
His gaze held hers, speaking louder than his words. “Would you?”
She gulped a breath. “Perhaps.”
Such a kiss would be impulsive. Rash. And utterly delicious.
She nibbled her bottom lip. As his attention drifted to her mouth, a sly smile crossed his features.
“It drives me a bit mad when you do that.” His voice was low and husky.
She knew full well what he meant, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Why, Jonathan Mason, I have no idea to what you are referring.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
She gave a little shrug. “I see no reason why you should not.”
His brows knit skeptically. “You possess little talent for evasion.”
“Much as it pains me to agree with you, I must on this particular point,” she said. “My brother has advised me to never, ever play a game of poker.”
“Bluffing is not one of your strengths,” he said with a knowing nod.
She folded her arms at the waist. “You’re sure of that?”
“Quite so.” He spoke the words with vexing confidence.
She studied him for a long moment, taking in the carved lines of his features and the sable shadow emphasizing the contours of his jaw.
If I were to kiss you—right here, right now—many would consider that rash. Would you?
His question was bold. Unexpected. Perhaps even a bit provocative. But had it been nothing more than a bluff? Well, she knew precisely how she might call it.
Belle smiled to herself as a scandalous notion took shape in her mind. It was time she put his words to the test. She pulled in a steadying breath, as if that might shore up her courage. What she was about to do was impetuous. Scandalous. And perhaps, a bit risky.
“Something on your mind, Belle?” He took a step back, watching her with a touch of wariness. So, he knew she was up to something. “I see that look in your eyes.”
She had to play this carefully. After all, she could not go too far. She could not risk falling for him. Again.
But somehow, she couldn’t quite stop herself.
Taking a step closer—then another—she cut the small distance between them. Standing this near, she savored crisp notes of bergamot and shaving soap.
