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“You know, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sullen. I love the ones who give me the skunk eye. They’re always the most fun to finally capture a candid smile from. That broody boy doesn’t realize those scowls are Frankie catnip.”
Temperance grimaced. “Do you know who he is?”
“You’re going to end up dead in his next novel, Frances,” Rowan said.
“I know exactly who he is. I’m not scared.” She winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
When Temperance gave Rowan a hug and moved to leave as well, Rowan grabbed her by the arm. “His family can’t know,” she said. “Arden obviously suspects something. But I work for them, Temperance. I’m technically theiremployee.”
Temperance kept her expression impressively neutral and nodded once. “I get it.” She squeezed her hand and said, “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Rowan replied, and for a moment, she was finally alone.
She left the den, still aiming for the washroom, and was immediately intercepted by Harrison.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s like trying to get through a haunted house in here,” Rowan growled.
He guided her into a dim room across the hall. His hand was on the small of her back, fingers subtly sweeping the flare of her waist. It was a simple touch—the involuntary kind that lovers did.
Drapes were drawn across the big window. As one of the few places in the house with carpet, it seemed supernaturally quiet. Books lined the ceiling-high shelves, looming around them like silent sentinels. At first, Harrison didn’t speak. They both lookedat each other, then to the open archway leading to the bright foyer beyond.
She’d been avoiding him for weeks. Standing this close to him now was like getting pure oxygen after being deprived of air. Rowan felt light-headed, a strange sense of relief tangling with an undercurrent of volatile energy. Whoever had referred to nervous jitters in the belly as “butterflies” had never been pinned in place by Harrison Brady’s solemn eyes. For her, the butterflies were the size of dragons.
“You were going to hide in the bathroom,” he said.
“Not fair that you know my strategy.”
“I wanted to say hi.” His voice was a caress.
Rowan tried to sound casual. “You could have said hi out there.”
“I know. But I wanted to say hi here, instead.”
“Is that the only thing you wanted, Harrison?”
He watched her mouth and leaned in, close enough she smelled his cinnamon gum. It sent a jolt of lust from her neck to her navel. Now, she knew exactly how the swell of his bottom lip fit against hers, and how impossibly smooth his tongue was.
Harrison gently twisted the tip of one of her curls between his fingers. The back of his hand lay flat between her breasts, and her heart thumped hard on the inside, rising to meet him.
“What’s Cheesesteak Friday?” His tone was light.
Oh, shit.How much of that conversation had he overheard?
“Eavesdropping?” she said.
He shrugged.
She sighed and squared her shoulders. “Since college, we’ve been doing these trivial little contests to determine who has to buy lunch. Cheesesteaks from Robustelli’s in the city.”
He chuckled. “I understand the concept. That’s not what I’m asking.”
A flush raced up her neck, and her mouth felt full of briars. “Girl stuff.”
“Okay.” His smile was dubious.
Rowan’s feet began to itch, and her belly burned. At any moment, someone might appear in the open archway and catch them standing there in the shadows. “We’re about to spend the weekend with your whole family.”
“I know.”
