That made her laugh. And damn if that sound didn’t do something to him. It was as if, in this room, they had made a silent pact—no lies, no games, only honesty.
It felt so damn good.
But then something shifted. Clare went quiet, running her fingertip along the rim of the glass, eyes focused on the amber liquid inside. She took a sip and handed him the glass. He took one too.
“Would you kiss me?” she asked suddenly.
Ash nearly choked. He laughed, shaking his head. “No.”
A beat of silence. Then, with an edge of something unreadable, she asked, “Why not?”
He slapped his chest, still trying to right the choking. “Isn’t it obvious?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Because I’m not pretty enough for you?”
Thatnearly made him spit out his brandy.
“What?” he barked, incredulous. “Christ, no.”
She just watched him, waiting, blinking at him with those unfathomable dark eyes of hers. Intelligent, watchful eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once.
He exhaled, forcing himself to focus. “Frankly, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you.”
She tilted her head slightly, considering. “What if I have a quite specific and quite goodreasonto ask you to kiss me?”
Ash handed the glass back to her, then he crossed his arms, eyeing her warily. “This ought to be good.”
Clare lifted her chin and gave her head a little shake. “Marsden was the first and only man who has ever kissed me.”
A muscle in Ash’s jaw clenched.Marsden was a horse’s ass.
“I don’t want him to be the last,” she continued. “I need to know if he was even any good.”
Ash bit his lip. Oh, damn.Careful, Trentham.
“I can tell you now,” he said slowly, allowing the barest hint of amusement to play about his lips, “knowing Marsden, he’s a rubbish kisser.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She took another small sip from the glass, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “But can you not take pity on me?” She blinked at him, her black eyelashes impossibly long, her pink lips ridiculously tempting.
Ash’s stomach tightened.
“I’d like a kiss that will wipe the memory of his from my mind forever.” She paused, then added, “And I’m convincedyou’rethe man to do it.”
Ash stilled. He had never been one to hesitate when a beautiful woman asked him for a kiss. He had stolen them in dark corridors, in moonlit gardens, in empty salons.
But this wasn’t just any woman.
This was Clare Handleton.
And something told him—something deep in his bones—that if he kissed her, there would be no forgetting it. Not for her. Not for him.
So he did the one thing he never did.
He hesitated.
CHAPTER FIVE
Clare watched Ashford Drake carefully from beneath her lashes, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. But she didn’t give a damn.
