The rich, deep flow of words had worked some kind of spell on her. She stood transfixed, unable to move or speak. It’s not real, she reminded herself. None of these words mean a thing. But his caress was real. Real, and warm, and tender. It could mean too much, if she let it. Caution told her to pull away. Instead, she placed a light, trembling touch to his shoulder. Foolish hand. Foolish fingers. “If I wished,” he murmured, drawing her close and tilting her face to his, “I could convince everyone that the true reason I’ve remained in Spindle Cove—months past what should have been my breaking
...more
