Page 80 of Pretender

“That’s lovely.”

She’s quiet for a moment while I mull over anything else she doesn’t already know that someone else does. We’ve touched on a variety of topics in the last few days.

Her visible ear blushes wildly. What’s on her mind?

“If someone’s seen the tattoo, they’ll have seen all of you.”

“Huh.”

“Anything in particular I need to know about?”

“Like what?” I cock an eyebrow at her. Is her mind in the gutter? Tsk, tsk, Linnea.

She stares at me, blinking.

“Never mind.”

“No, come on, what were you thinking about?” My smile spreads on my face, I can’t hold it back. I’ve never seen her ear this red, and it seems she’s aware as she brushes her hair forward to cover it.

If she’s thinking what I’m thinking … that could be an arousal blush.

She was blushing fiercely in Florence after she had her nightmare and called out for me. Perhaps it wasn’t a nightmare after all. I’m intrigued.

“Come on.” I poke her arm, laughing, and she waves me off, but she’s laughing too.

“Stop it,” she breathes, and I lean back again. Her eyes find my face, but her gaze flits down and up again, almost unnoticed.

Almost.

I stifle a smirk as I wait for her to say something. Have I crossed her mind at all? The way she does mine?

She shakes her head and folds her arms across her chest. I lean further back, stretching my legs and watch her as her gaze moves down my long legs.

“You have big shoes.”

“I have big feet,” I say, wiggling them.

She blinks. “Oh.”

What is she thinking now?

I was certain today would be tough when I saw her come down the stairs outside her house. When I had to hold on to the car because the sight of her in that knee-length lavender dress nearly knocked me off my feet. Her long, strong legs showing.

The same legs she stretches out in the car now. Lean calves, smooth sun-kissed skin.

Fuck.

“What about you?” I ask after a quiet moment.

“What about me?”

“Say we meet Henry, is there something he’d shoot my way that I can send back to him with a bow on top?”

“Where to start? I could write a book.”

She picks at the hem of her dress.

“I love this Norwegian pop group, a-ha, but Henry didn’t approve. Until you mentioned eighties rock just now, I’d completely forgotten the old me who used to dance and sing along to music almost every day.”