“Not bad for a first mission,” he said.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth. It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, but it hit him like a jolt. His pulse jumped, heat spreading low and fast through his chest.
He should’ve looked away. Should’ve said something, anything, to break the spell. But he couldn’t. Not when Zoe was right there, close enough that he could see the way her lashes fell, the faint rise and fall of her chest, the pulse beating at the base of her throat.
Jackson’s breath slowed. He leaned in just a fraction, enough that her presence filled his senses.
The world outside the library aisle faded to nothing. The creak of the floorboards, the whisper of the overhead vent all disappeared. There was only her. Her hand resting on the book between them, her fingers brushing the edge of his. The touch felt electric, like the start of a storm.
Zoe didn’t move away. Her lips parted slightly and his gaze dipped, tracing the slope of her throat. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his control hanging by a thread.
Zoe’s fingers curled against the spine of the book, knuckles white, as though she were holding herself in place. The tension between them was so thick he could feel it on his skin.
If he moved another inch, he’d kiss her. If she leaned forward, he wouldn’t stop her.
And God help him, he didn’t know which of them he wanted to move first.
That’s when Mrs. Bishop’s unmistakable voice drifted across the room.
“Well, if it isn’t our Couple of the Year candidates.”
Zoe froze.
Jackson didn’t even have to look to know Mrs. Bishop was watching them. “Relax,” he murmured near her ear. “We’re supposed to be convincing, right?”
Her whisper came out tight. “You mean—right now?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “You wanted everyone to believe we’re in love. Let’s give them a show.”
Before Zoe could react, he turned her gently toward him, his hand sliding around her waist. She let out a tiny gasp.
“Jackson—”
“Just smile,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the dip in her waist.
Zoe tilted her chin up, a wobbly smile flickering across her lips. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Bishop’s grin widen. The woman was already whispering to Mrs. C.
Zoe rose onto her toes, whispering back, “They’re still staring.”
“Then we’d better sell it,” Jackson murmured, his voice husky. He dipped his head, close enough that their foreheads brushed.
“Jackson,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut.
He swallowed hard.This is for the show, he reminded himself.Just the show.
Except…his pulse didn’t get the memo.
He leaned in, his lips grazing the edge of hers. It was the gentlest touch, just enough to look real. But the feel of her full soft lips sent a jolt of electricity all the way through him.
The world went still. Just the quiet tick of the clock, the scent of paper and lilacs, and the slow thrum of his heart against hers.
Then Mrs. C.’s voice cut through the haze.
“Well,” she said dryly, coming closer, “that’s one way to encourage young people to read.”
“Might want to give them a bit of privacy,” Mrs. Bishop replied to her friend. “Gertie wants a grandchild sooner rather than later,” the older lady added.
“Well, they’d better not go trying to make one in the library,” Mrs. C. shot back.
