“My ball is farther away.”
“Yes,” Alexander agreed easily.
The agreement came so quickly that for a moment she suspected victory.
Then he added calmly, “Which suggests you missed.”
Diana let out a small huff of indignation.
“I did not miss,” she said firmly. “I simply chose… a more ambitious path.”
Alexander laughed softly.
The sound was warm and low, and Diana felt it ripple through her chest in a way that made it difficult to remember what they had been arguing about in the first place.
“And I suppose,” he said, his eyes lingering on her face with such interest that made her breath feel slightly uneven, “that makes you the victor.”
“Obviously.”
He stepped forward then.
The movement was slow, almost careless, yet it shortened the space between them until Diana became acutely aware of the warmth of his body only a breath away. She could feel the heat of him even through the cool air beneath the trees, and the simple awareness of his closeness sent an unsettling current of sensation through her, pooling low in her belly.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the ball.
Alexander noticed.
His gaze dropped briefly to her hand before returning to her face with that same thoughtful calm that somehow made the moment feel far more charged than open flirtation ever could.
“You are remarkably determined,” he murmured.
The warmth of his voice brushed against her senses in a way that made her pulse shift again, faster now, deeper.
Diana forced herself to meet his gaze.
“It is a necessary quality,” she replied carefully.
“For what?”
“For winning.”
Alexander’s mouth curved faintly, the hint of a smile appearing slowly, as though he found far more amusement in her stubbornness than he ought to. “I see.”
But he did not step back. And Diana, despite every sensible instinct urging her otherwise, found she did not move either.
His hand lifted then.
The movement was unhurried, almost thoughtful, and Diana saw it coming from the corner of her eye. Yet the knowledge did nothing to prepare her for the moment his fingers brushed lightly against her wrist.
It was the faintest touch, barely more than the whisper of skin against skin, but the sensation struck her with startling force. A shiver traveled instantly up her arm, swift and involuntary, the simple warmth of his fingers awakening something deep within her nerves that she had not meant to acknowledge. The feeling spread through her chest before she could stop it, leaving her breath suddenly uneven.
His gaze dropped to her wrist where his fingers had touched her, then lifted slowly back to her face, and Diana saw thechange in his expression immediately. His eyes darkened with unmistakable interest.
“You shivered,” he observed.
The words were soft, almost thoughtful, yet the awareness in them made heat rush through her at once.
Diana withdrew her hand quickly, closing her fingers around the ball she still held, hoping the small object might somehow restore her composure. Her pulse was racing now, far faster than the moment warranted.
