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He cleared his throat and prayed she couldn’t guess the turn his thoughts had taken. “I’ve heard enough robins in my time to tell the difference.”
She pushed away from the rickety railing and turned to face him, arms akimbo. He could see no more than the vague silhouette of her, but what he could see he admired heartily. “Is that so? Then tell me, what’s this bird?”
She brought her hands to her lips and made a noise that might, to the uneducated ear, be generously called a bird call.
He fought not to grin, but he couldn’t help himself. “That’s the call of a wee little thing.” Before he knew what he was about, he reached up to clasp her wrists and pull her hands away from her face. She took a stumbled step closer, with only their hands in between them and precious little air. Her face was tipped up to his. He could see the starlight reflected in her eyes. Hell, he was tempted to dip his head and press a kiss to her mouth. But something warned him that would be too soon. They were strangers after all, ships sailing past each other that might not see each other again.
The air charged between them. He kept his touch on her wrists light, light enough for her to know that she wasn’t trapped, that she could push away at any time. At first, she leaned lightly into him, tilting her face toward his.
Then she stiffened. And to his disappointment, she did. She turned her back and said, “I think we’d better go inside now before the temperature drops, don’t you?”
Her voice was a rasp, thick with desire.
The knowledge that she was very much aware of him too, rocked him back on his heels.
He wanted to ask more, to prolong this moment. But the chemistry from a moment before had frosted over. Whatever Perdie’s secrets, she was through talking with him for one evening. So like a proper gentleman, he offered her his arm and led her inside.
And tried his damnedest to forget how much he’d wanted to kiss her. Proper or not.
