Chapter Sixteen
Greer could not haveimagined when he went off in search of his toffee-maker, whom he’d noticed wandering alone toward the river, that a minute later he would have her in his arms, looking up at him with those vivid blue eyes.
But he was a gentleman, and the lady he was trying to woo was not far away. After giving Beatrice’s tempting lips a good long look, nearly groaning when she licked them, he stepped back.
Or he tried to, but she came with him, her dainty feet —small, he thought,for a woman of her height— were planted on top of his boots.
“My boot,” she said, before finally backing up so she could take a seat on the bench.
“Your boot?” he asked, still mesmerized by her eyes and her mouth and how hard he’d had to fight to keep from kissing her.
She raised her right leg and drew up her skirt, causing his skin to get prickly hot until he realized she was showing him her stocking foot.
“I tossed my boot up to get rid of the birds, and it didn’t come back.”
They both looked up. Sure enough, there was her ankle boot, high in the rafters, resting on a cross beam.
He wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure if she found the situation funny.
“You probably couldn’t have done that if you had tried hard and wanted to.”
“I’m sure I couldn’t. Shall I try with my other one?”
He was glad to learn shedidfind it amusing.
“And I succeeded in scaring off the pigeons, although they gave me quite a fright in the process.”
“I heard you shriek,” he said.
“Did I? I hadn’t realized it. What a ninny-pated woman, I am!”
“Never mind. I think you were quite resourceful. But let’s get your boot down.”
He could send his hat flying but doubted it had enough weight to it. On the other hand, if he sent his coat up there and it got hung up, then nothing he had short of tossing Beatrice into the air would bring it down.
“My hat or my coat?” he pondered aloud, taking his hat off and considering it.
