quiet.”
Jilly turned around and grinned. “I know. I’m very happy about that.”
There was a beat of silence between them. The air became thick with a delightful tension. Stephen’s eyes got that look, the one he’d had in his eye the very first day she’d met him. And her heart—well, it started racing. It always did when he was nearby.
“Let’s go to your office,” he said in a husky voice.
Oh, heavens. She wanted to kiss him so badly. Quickly, she looked over her shoulder out the window. No one was approaching. The white placard, the one on which she’d written TWO MORE DAYS UNTIL THE FAIR just this morning, was still propped in the window for the neighborhood to see.
Two days. It wasn’t many.
It had been five days since the ball. Five days since Stephen had twice in one day—
She blushed to think of it.
“What’s that face?” he asked her, pulling her closer. “Wait.” He gave her the smile that heated her to the core. “Don’t tell me. I know.”
“Of course you don’t,” she said briskly.
“Yes I do,” he said. He took one, slow look down the length of her. “I want you on my jacket again, too. Or here on the floor.”
She was mortified that he could tell what she was thinking.
“Off with you now,” she whispered. “I know for a fact Susan is on her way with Nathaniel and Thomas. They’ve taken to going to the park every afternoon for half an hour. They’re staying up until all hours framing Nathaniel’s watercolors and sewing caps. They drop the finished ones off here before dinner. Their apartments are terribly cramped as it is, and I have the office to store things.”
“Are you saying they eat dinner together?”
She shrugged, but inside she was tremendously excited. “I think so.”
Stephen tapped her mouth with a finger. “You matchmaker, you.”
She giggled, and then she grabbed his finger—
And kissed it.
His face took on a whole new level of interest in her. He put one hand on either side of her head. “You shouldn’t do things like that.”
“I know,” she said. “I can’t help it.”
He stared at her for an instant. She couldn’t help smiling at him. She knew it was unwavering. She was happy. She liked being trapped by him. She liked
Very much.
He readjusted his stance, then narrowed his eyes at her. “You, Miss Jones, are an incredible flirt.”
“I am?”
He nodded, his expression inscrutable. Then he put his fists on his hips and walked away a few feet. He stood still, looking out the front window. His back was so broad and strong. She never tired of looking at it.
He turned around then and came back to her. “What about Otis’s handkerchiefs?” he said.
“Mrs. Hobbs,” she said, wanting to melt into him, “is tacking on the lace while Otis puts together his special shoe collection.”
Stephen gave her a crooked smile. “Does Otis truly believe anyone will buy his shoes?”
Jilly nodded. “Of course they will.”
Stephen lifted her chin with a finger. “You’re an awfully good friend to have.”
She lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”
When she looked up, he was gazing at her with something that frightened her and exhilarated her all at the same time.
“What are the Hartleys doing?” she asked, turning aside and moving toward the counter. “I haven’t seen them since the ball.” She looked over her shoulder and saw him pursue her with all the focused attention with which a hound pursues a fox.
And she loved every minute of it.
He leaned against the corner and folded his arms. “They’re taking Miss Hartley to various picnics and musicales, doing their very best to ingratiate themselves to society.” He arched a brow. “But Miss Hartley isn’t at all happy. She tried to get out of going this morning by claiming a headache.”
“Was she truly ill?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you think she doesn’t want to get married?”
“I think she wants Pratt,” Stephen said knowingly.
“No.”
“Oh, yes.” Stephen grinned. “Did you see him moping about last night? Miss Hartley was at another ball. We tried to get him to assist us with removing branches from the street, but he was quite halfhearted about it. He’s never like that when Miss Hartley is nearby.”
Jilly put a hand on her heart. “But this is wonderful! Did he admit he was pining after her?”
“No,” Stephen said, “but he couldn’t stop talking about her, and about how rude her parents were, and why it was such a shame that she was stuck with them. And then he groused about all the dandies she’d meet on the Marriage Mart.”
Jilly pushed off the wall and walked to the shop window. “Dreare Street isn’t unlucky at all!” She whirled around to face Stephen. “Love is in the air! Look at Miss Hartley and Pratt … Susan and Nathaniel—”
She stopped speaking all of a sudden, realizing that she’d brought them to an awkward moment.
Their gazes locked. He didn’t look away. He looked very, very serious. She blinked.
“I invented a ruse in which I’m supposed to be pursuing you,” he said slowly. “But it’s really not necessary anymore. I think Miss Hartley would run away if her parents insisted she marry me. She has a
“You can tell the Hartleys the truth now,” Jilly said, her hands clasped in front of her. She felt very serious, too. “That you’re not pursuing me.”
“Yes,” Stephen said. “I could.”
They stared at each other some more.
They spoke at the same time.
He took a step toward her.
She held out her hand.
The bell at the front door jangled.
“Where is she?” a rough voice cried.
Jilly turned—
And looked into the cold, stern face of her husband.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Stephen’s heart pounded in his chest. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Jilly was shaking like a leaf. She walked swiftly behind her counter and stood there, her nostrils flared, her cheeks pale, her mouth half open, as if she were struggling for breath.
She didn’t even seem aware of his presence anymore.
That magical moment between them—when they’d spoken at the same time and reached toward each other …
It was as if it had never happened.
Threat hung in the air, dissolving that special memory to mist and propelling Stephen into full-blown defensive mode. His training at sea during wartime saw to that. And he was prepared to go on the offensive if the
