“Ooh, yes.” Another moan. “That feels so good. I’ve been on my feet all day seeing to all the preparations.”
“You must be exhausted,” he replied in a deep voice, working her foot between his thumb and forefinger.
“Honestly, I am.” She arched her back like a cat. “I so wanted the evening to be a success, but now I’m feeling the effects of rushing around the house all day.”
“I’d say it was a success.” He pulled his thumb down the center of her foot, pressing deeply.
A tremor made its way up Meredith’s leg. Ooh. What he was doing with his hands should be illegal.
“How does that feel?” Griffin’s voice was deep and husky.
“So good it’s nearly sinful.” Meredith arched her back again. “Have you always been this good at foot rubs?”
“Perhaps your feet have simply never been so tired.”
“Is it getting warm in here?” She fanned her face with her hand.
“Perhaps a bit.” His gaze captured hers and she glanced away first.
She let her head drop back onto the cushions and closed her eyes.
“You have one more guess, Meredith. Don’t you know who she is? The lady I fancy?”
“Wh…what?” She pressed a hand to her throat.
“We’ve played our game long enough, don’t you think?”
“It’s a silly game, isn’t it? I never should have started it.” She was desperately trying to act as if the whole thing was hardly worth discussing further.
He tilted his head to the side and regarded her down the length of his nose as if studying her. He was still massaging her feet. “Go ahead. I know you can work it out if you think hard enough.” His voice had taken on a more languid, more…sensual quality.
Meredith cleared her throat and met his stare again. The noose was tightening. “I’m…frightened.” She hadn’t intended to say those two words out loud, but now they were there, hovering in the air, proving to be more true with each passing moment.
Griffin’s brow collapsed into a frown. “Why’s that?”
Meredith swallowed. “Be…because once I make my final guess, I’ve little hope that you’ll reveal her identity if I am wrong.” It was a lie and they both knew it.
He slowly shook his head back and forth, his gaze still locked on hers. “That’s not why.”
She pulled at the bodice of her gown. She was sweating, and the fabric was sticking to her chest. She could barelythink with him rubbing her foot that way. “Wh…what do you mean?”
“Go ahead, Meredith. Guess.” His voice was languorous.
“I don’t want to,” she insisted, swinging her gaze away from his.
“Giving up so easily? I’ve never known you to be a quitter, Mere.” He moved his hands to her other foot and smiled at the new groan he forced from her throat.
She expelled her breath in a long, low rush. She leaned back and placed her wine glass on the side table. “Fine,” she breathed. “Lady Olivia Monthope?”
His gaze had never left hers. “No. And you knew it wasn’t her.”
Meredith swallowed. Of course it wasn’t Lady Olivia Monthope. All Meredith had left was her misplaced anger at him for not just coming out and telling her, even though she didn’t want him to. “The game is over.”
“Not yet.” Griffin’s grin was devilish. “I have faith in you, Meredith. I’ll give you one more guess.”
Meredith swung her feet off his lap. She couldn’t take any more of his languid foot massage. It was too intimate. Gooseflesh was spreading up her legs and giving her tremors where there should benotremors. But when she pushed herself back against the sofa cushions, she found herself sitting thigh to thigh with him. And the heat from his muscled leg was scorching her. She’d never been so aware of him. His large body next to hers. The light scent of his cologne. The solid form of his shoulder so big beside hers. She closed her eyes. A tremor of desire passed through her. “I should have another dinner party for Gemma in a few weeks,” she forced herself to say.
He reached for his glass. “Ah, the change of subject. A classic move in our friendship.”
