* * * * *
Oblivious to the stir she’d created or the three sets of eyes that were pinned to her back, observing her every move, Daisy marched right up to Everett and wrapped her knuckles on his table as if she were knocking on his bedroom door. “I’d like to speak with you, if I may.”
“Miss White.” Feigning surprise–even though sheknewhe’d seen her headed his way–Everett pushed his coffee aside and partially rose from his chair. “Unfortunately, you’ve just caught me in the act of leaving. If you’d excuse me–”
“No,” she said simply.
His eyebrows lifted. “No?”
“No, you are not excused. Not until you tell me why youdidn’ttell me who youreallyare.”
“I did tell you my name.”
“Your name,” she acknowledged as she slid into the seat beside him. “But you left out the small fact of your title. You’re the Duke of Aikens.”
“And?” he challenged, his brows lifting even higher.
“And I wish I’d been privy to that information before I allowed you to”–she lowered her voice–“kiss me.”
His gaze shot past her. When it returned to her face, amusement glittered in the depths of his gray irises. Slowly, he lowered himself back into his chair and placed an elbow on the table. “Would that have made a difference? If you knew what my title was.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously.
“How is that?”
“I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Done what?”
“Allowed you to kiss me!”
Goodness, was he paying attention at all?
“I must confess that I’m not following your logic, Miss White.” He lazily stretched his arm out and as he did so, his thumb brushed across the back of her gloved hand.
It was a brief touch.
Gone and there again in less time than it took to draw a breath.
But oh…oh, how it burned.
In the most delightful way possible.
Swallowing with difficulty, Daisy snatched her arm off the table and tucked it into her lap. “It’s…it’s common sense. Had I realized you were a duke, I would have avoided you.”
“Funny.” His head tilted. “When most people learn that I’m a duke, they go out of their way to pay attention to me. Particularly people of the…female persuasion.”
“You mean they flirt with you because of your title,” she said matter-of-factly.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Bluntly put, yes, that’s exactly what they do. But you’re saying that’s not whatyoudid.”
“Absolutely not.” She scowled at him. “I don’t like dukes.”
“You don’t like dukes,” he repeated.
“No.”
“Can I ask why?”
