Page 35
“How old are you, Madison?”
“Twenty-two.”
He exhales.
“Christ.”
“What?”
“I'm thirty-nine.”
“I know. You've had seventeen extra years to perfect the art of being annoying.”
His mouth twitches.
“Careful, sweetheart.”
“Why? What happens if I don't behave?”
He pushes away from the door.
“I'm starting to think you enjoy provoking me.”
“Only because you make it so easy.”
He stops a few feet from the couch.
Close enough for me to notice the silver at his temples.
Far more silver than any man his age has a right to make attractive.
“You should rest,” he says quietly.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
My breath catches.
Oh, that's dangerous.
I could look away.
I don't.
“Madison.”
“What?”
“You keep looking at me like that, and I'm going to get the wrong idea.”
I lift my chin.
“Maybe you already have.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
