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“The women who watch you with hungry eyes.” She grinned. “They look as if they’re starving, Baird. How can you not notice?”
“You’re mistaken. Heads turn because of you,” he answered. “You’re stunning.”
*
She loved theway he said stunning, in his gorgeous accent, the syllables rolling off his tongue. “I think you have it wrong, but I’m too happy to be here to argue with you. Perhaps tomorrow we can become adversaries again.”
“And why should we become adversaries? I’d rather be on good terms with you.”
She couldn’t help smiling at him. “You’ve lost that stern look, Baird MacLauren. You almost look… kind.”
“I am kind.” His lips curved faintly. “Sometimes.”
“Can I ask you something? About you know. August.”
His expression turned wary. “I thought you decided it was best that we avoided all mentions and conversation of that particular event.”
“I did. And we probably shouldn’t discuss, but I have this little voice in my head, and it won’t be quiet, and it won’t leave me alone.”
“That sounds very serious.”
“It is. Which is why I would like a serious answer from you.”
“I’ll do my best, Eloise.”
She grimaced. “Now you just want to fight.”
“I don’t. I promise. What is your question?”
Ella’s courage nearly deserted her. She wasn’t sure why she thought this would be good dinner table conversation.
“Come on,” he urged. “Out with it. You can’t leave me hanging. I’m anticipating something big.”
“Okay. Here it is.” She leaned toward him a little and dropped her voice. “If we kissed now, what do you think would happen?”
Baird just stared at her, his gold eyes narrowing, a tiny muscle pulling in his cheek.
“I’m not being provocative,” she hastened to add. “I genuinely want to know. Would the kiss still be all sparky and hot, or would we realize it was just the setting, what with the moonlight and all.”
His gaze skimmed her face, sweeping over her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth until his attention was focused only there, on her lips.
He hadn’t even said a word and yet her mouth began to pulse, hot, sensitive, so sensitive.
“What makes you ask?” he said at length, his voice pitched so low that it rumbled through her, making her feel as if there was no space between them. He might as well have his hands in her hair, tipping her head back to claim her mouth, her lips, her tongue.
She swallowed hard. “Because I thought if… if… the magic was gone, we’d be safe. You know, you and me together. I thought maybe without the heat we could be friends. Good friends.”
“Let me have your hand,” he said, extending his to her.
She looked down at his open palm, his hand large, his fingers strong. She could see each of the lines across his palm, the smaller lines on his fingers. Nervous, she hesitated and then she carefully put her palm on his, flat against his, palm to palm, skin to skin. His hand was warm, steady. For a moment, nothing happened. For a moment, she thought she was free.
And then he slowly slid his palm beneath hers, slipping it across her own and it was like striking a match. Heat flared and exquisite sensation streaked through her, the pleasure so intense it made her dizzy.
She jerked her head up and looked into his eyes. His gold eyes smoldered. His firm lips pressed together and yet she could feel them, how they’d touched her in August. On her mouth, on her neck, on the pulse just below her ear.
Heart racing, Ella pulled her hand back, burying it in her lap.
“Well?” he drawled. “Are we safe?”
