“It doesn’t matter,” he said. Would any of it?
She was not some flighty actress willing to embark on a temporary affair. She was… Miss Sparrow. If he was a better man, he’d have already made arrangements to meet with her father. But he was not.
So he would not.
And before he could examine his reasoning any closer, his father’s demands shoved out any possibility of calm deliberation.
His damn father had swept the ground out from beneath his feet, by God.
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. “Will you forgive me?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers. “Not for what I—what we did, but because.” He winced. “You deserve better than that. Better than me.”
She stared up at him, tiny lines forming between her eyes. “Why would you think that?”
The woman had too many questions!
“Because.” Words failed him. “Just look at you,” he finally said. “Not only are you beautiful and talented, but you are…” He shook his head. “You are so much more than that.”
She was not an actress. He’d accepted that. But she carried herself with a specific kind of grace, and if he didn’t know better, he’d take her for a lady.
But no lady would work in the theater—aside from Mrs. Grey, he supposed.
Staring at him, she released a few bubbles of laughter.
“You think I’m beautiful.” The sweetest smile appeared, and her shoulders lifted as though he’d removed the weights pushing down on her this morning.
“Of course you are.” He’d turned to face her, so it was easy to touch his fingertips to the line of her jaw. “Just look at you.”
The smile grew. “And talented?”
“You know you are.” Carter laughed. He was surprised he could even smile this morning. But having her so close, he didn’t feel as unhinged as he had a moment before.
Her lashes swept downward and her cheeks took on a peach hue. “Thank you, Mr. Dodd.”
Mr. Dodd.
Carter cleared his throat. “Carter. I told you before that you may address me by my given name.”
“I must have been distracted.” Her smile, this time, was teasing.
Engulfing her small hands in his, he leaned forward. “You little fool.”
And this time, he’d kiss her properly. Not because they would act out a scene, but because he couldn’t take another breath without kissing her first.
There was simply him and her. A man and a woman giving in to undeniable attraction.
Finally
One minute, Elle was searching for the courage to discuss her situation with him, the next, she’d forgotten her own name.
And she ought to care, except she didn’t. She didn’t care that she was asking for trouble.
Because working with this man, she’d lost herself somewhere between reality and the romantic relationship she’d written in the play.
She had spent half the night worrying over her parents and their unmeetable expectations, and the other half replaying moments she’d spent alone with Mr. Dodd.
With Carter.
The afternoon he’d helped her escape her gown in the costume room. The hours and hours spent organizing his schedule and notes. Examining various backdrops and furnishings they could use for the play.
