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“What did I say?”

I stare at him for a moment before closing the book in my lap.

“That’s obnoxious.”

His mouth curves. “You weren’t listening.”

I lift my glass and realize it is empty.

“Maybe the whisky is stronger than you claimed.”

“I never claimed otherwise,” he says.

“You let me drink it anyway.”

“You’re an adult.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Very responsible of you.”

Ross watches me set the glass down, but his attention doesn’t immediately return to my eyes. It lingers on my mouth first, long enough that I catch it.

“You keep doing that,” I say.

His gaze lifts. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t pretend not to understand. Instead, he sets his glass aside and studies me for another second.

“How am I looking at you?” he asks.

“You know exactly how.”

Ross steps closer, slowly enough that I could move away without making a scene.

I stay where I am.

“Yes,” he says.

The admission settles low in my stomach.

I turn toward the shelves because I need somewhere else to put my attention, but his presence follows me. I pull another book free and open it to a series of plates near the center.

“This one,” I say, pointing to an image.

“This is what I meant earlier about Vienna.”

Ross leans closer to look, and his shoulder brushes mine. I feel the heat of him through the thin fabric at my arm, along with the faint scent of cedar, soap, and whisky that has become unmistakably his. When I turn my head to explain something else, I find his face only inches from mine.

The words I intended to say disappear before they reach my mouth. Ross looks at me, and I hold his gaze. For once, neither of us tries to turn the moment into a joke.

I reach toward the shelf to replace the book at the same moment Ross reaches for it. His hand closes over mine. The touch is light, but neither of us moves immediately. The rain strikes harder against the windows behind us while I turn toward him, and suddenly the narrow space between the shelves feels much smaller than it did a few seconds ago.

He is directly in front of me.I can see the silver at his temples, the slight tension in his jaw, and the way his breathing changes when my eyes drop to his mouth.

His gaze follows mine. For several seconds, there is nothing between us except the awareness of how close we are and the knowledge that either one of us could step away.

Ross says my name quietly. “Blaire.”