Page 22 of If the Slipper Fits
“I meant, why are you here, in this corridor, at this hour?”
“Stretching my legs,” he said, in a parody of her words a moment ago.
She slanted him a skeptical look.
“As to the the time of day, I always rise early, Mrs. Jones.”
“You don’t say?”
He shrugged, then said honestly, “I enjoy the relative quiet mornings offer, and the time it affords for contemplation. And you, Mrs. Jones?”
She arched a brow and a corner of her lips crooked upward. “Contemplation? Of what, pray tell?"
Caden opened his arms wide. “Solutions to the world’s problems? At least in my small corner of it, Mrs. Jones."
Her semblance of a smile vanished. "Why do you keep saying that?"
"Exactly what, Mrs. Jones?”
A most becoming pink tinged her cheeks. “Mrs. Jones,” she said between gritted teeth.
He grinned. He was having more fun than he’d had in ages. “It is your name, is it not? Nevertheless, I shall refrain from addressing you as such.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “It seemed unnecessarily excessive.”
Craning her head, she glanced over his shoulder, giving him the impression she meant to skirt him.
He stepped closer. “And how fares your head this morning, ma’am? I presume ma’am is acceptable?”
The pink tinge on her cheeks which had begun to fade blossomed with a vengeance. “Much improved, sir. Thank you for asking. How is your…” She flittered her gloved fingers over the crown of her head.
“Oh, yes.” He rubbed his cranial lump a-la-Harrison. Still tender. “I hardly remember it’s there.”
The smile that curved her lips turned genuine.
“May I ask what has captured your interest so intently?” He waited, his expression all innocence, or so he hoped, despitethe fact his gaze kept dropping to her mouth. But he didn’t want to miss the tell-tale nibble that was sure to come.
Only it never came. Instead she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Those rosy, perfectly-shaped-for-kissing lips. With effort he dragged his gaze to her eyes, then decided the view wasn’t half bad there, either.
“Last night when we…that is, you didn’t happen to...” She huffed out a breath. “Never mind. It's not important. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Thurgood? Pleasant day to you.” Picking up her skirts, she turned and set off at a brisk pace.
She meant to leave him in her dust.
In two strides Caden fell into step beside her. “No breakfast for you?”
The look of consternation she slid him nearly teased a bark of amusement from him. Or annoyance. She’d given him the cut direct. Again. It was the damnedest thing.
“I prefer to take my morning stroll before breakfasting.”
As he'd guessed. “Your morning stroll, you say? How’s that for a lucky coincidence. As it happens, I am also heading out for a walk. Might I accompany you?”
Her clear reticence made him want to retract his request. He realized he disliked feeling like a beggar, an unwanted one at that. Teasing her was one thing. But he’d be damned if he’d resort to forcing his attentions on a woman. “I beg your pardon. I won’t infringe—”
“No, no,” she cut in, linking her hands behind her back. Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. “Your company is most welcome, sir.”
An unfamiliar, heady warmth suffused him. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Six
