Page 17 of If the Slipper Fits
“So you say." He cocked his head, and in a quicksilver change of topic, asked, “My dear Mrs. Jones, how fares your head?”
“My head?”
“Did you not claim to have the headache?”
She’d completely forgotten the hasty fabrication. Her hand flew to her brow. “A bit better. Thank you.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned closer. “I think you made it up.”
Her skin prickled with awareness—of him, of the limited space between them, of his wickedly spicy aftershave teasing her nostrils.
“Your opinion, of course, is entirely your affair.”
A slow smile spread over his too-handsome face. “Not a denial.”
He lowered his head further, as if he meant to whisper in her ear. Instead, he inhaled, slow and deep through his nose.
The whisper of sound curled through her, making her insides quiver.
“Darling, are you absolutely certain we’ve never met? Because, there’s something so familiar about you…” He inhaled again, and the long draw sent tendrils of fire all theway to her toes.
She had to say something, anything, to distract herself from the wickedly delicious sensations flooding her. “Are you, by any chance,sniffingme?”
“I…” he broke off for a beat, straightening away from her. “…am. I beg your pardon, but your perfume tantalizes me. You pass by and it’s there, calling to me, just out of reach, utterly intoxicating. I make out cedar-wood, and another flower…”
“Tuberose,” she whispered.
“And?” he whispered in return, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
“Amber,” she replied, her voice barely audible.
“Ah. Good old amber.”
They might as well be the only two people left in the world. Gooseflesh broke out over her entire body, and her legs turned to so much pudding she collapsed against the wall for support. For the life of her, she couldn’t conjure one intelligent thought, much less form a word.
His eyes lifted, locking with hers.
The warmth in his blue gaze captured her completely. She could not look away, nor did she wish to.
“Tell me you don’t know me.”
As if he’d mesmerized her, an almost overwhelming desire to spill her every secret welled-up inside her. Ofcoursehe tempted her. He always had done. With one look, one softly spoken word, he melted her like butter on a hot skillet.
The yearning to confide in him burned through her.
No.She slammed her lids shut and gave herself a mental shake. Would she never learn? Last time she relied on someone she thought she could trust, she’d barely escaped with her life, andshehadn't even belonged to the nobility. Hadn’t her mother warned her about trusting one of their rank, and Caden specifically?
Inner walls semi-restored, she opened her eyes and forced a polite smile. “I promise you, sir, we do not know each other.” And so they didn’t. Not anymore.
The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a subtle, but distinct message:Challenge accepted.
Oh dear. Not that. The Caden she remembered never backed down from a contest of wills.
She must convince him. “Unless you've frequented Durham.” She nibbled her lower lip, adding, “I come from a small,verysmall village in Durham County.”
***
She was lying, and right to his face. She’d been about to divulge where they’d met—and he knew to his bones they had, indeed, met. Then, something caused her to dig in her heels and lie. There had been a tell. What was it?
