Just Like Heaven (Smythe-Smith, #1)

by Julia Quinn

The earl did not wish to remarry, even though he was warned that he ought to get himself a spare to go along with his heir.

She had lingered too long at the window of a bookshop,

Because for a moment she’d felt like herself again, like the girl she’d been just a few years ago, when the world lay before her, a bright shiny ball that glittered with promise. It had been a feeling she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing—of belonging, of place, of being with someone who knew you utterly and completely and still thought you were worth laughing with.

It hadn’t made sense; most of the time she was happy, jolly Honoria, but then she’d look at him that way, with those amazing lavender eyes of hers, and he’d realize what her family never did, that she understood people.

Dear heavens, she was in bed with Marcus. No. That was not the right way to phrase it. She was in Marcus’s bed.

Honoria just shook her head. She needed a book. And maybe another nap. And a slice of pie. And not necessarily in that order.

It was extraordinary, Honoria thought, but the world really did stop spinning. She was sure of it. There could be no other explanation for the headiness, the dizziness, the sheer singularity of the moment, of that moment, right there, in his room, with a dinner tray and a stolen treacle tart, and the breathless longing for a single, perfect kiss.

He’d been looking at her because he’d been forced to do so. He’d been looking at her because his best friend had made him promise.

He’d been looking at her because she was an obligation. And now she was in love with him.

Some men knew instinctively how to talk to women. It would have been very convenient to have been one of those men.

He might have fallen in love with her only recently, but he had known her for fifteen years. Fifteen years to know what sort of heart beat within her. He was not going to revise his opinion of her because of a single, odd night.

He’d spent his life being a perfect gentleman. He’d never been a flirt. He’d never been a rogue. He hated being the center of attention, but by God, he wanted to be the center of her attention. He wanted to do the wrong thing, the bad thing.