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HITCHED!

“I think we should get into character,” said George. “If we’re going to be really convincing when Saffron comes up next, we’d better rehearse.” He lifted a hand to smooth a stray hair away from my face, and my skin burned at his touch. “What do you think?”

My heart was thudding, my mouth so dry I could hardly speak, and I couldn’t have looked away from his eyes if I had tried, but I clung desperately to the shreds of the sensible Frith I knew I really was inside.

“I’m, er, not sure that’s really necessary, is it?” I managed somehow.

“I’ve got a very challenging role,” he pointed out. “I’m besotted with you, remember? I’m going to have to look as if I know what it’s like to slide my hand under your hair, like this,” he added, suiting the action to the words. His palm was warm and persuasive against the nape of my neck. “I should look as if I know what it’s like to nibble your earlobe and kiss my way down your throat.…”

His lips were warm, too, so warm, so sure. A great fluttery rush of heat engulfed me and I sucked in a trembling breath.

“I don’t know.…”

“As for you,” said George, cupping my cheek to hold my face still—not that I was capable of going anywhere. “It’s going to be even harder for you.”

“It is?”

“Talk about tough,” he said as he shook his head solemnly. “You’re going to have to look as if you’re used to me kissing you. I think you’ll need to practice that a lot.”

I was hazy with anticipation. “I suppose it might be an idea to practice a bit,” I heard myself say.