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He started to rise, but stopped midway when he realized Maggie was staring. “You know, some women think I’m chivalrous.” “Some women think the earth is flat.” “Oh.” He bit back that million-dollar grin. “You wound me.”
“Oh, and this is Nanny Davis. Can you believe she was Rupert’s nanny when he was a boy?” Ethan looked at the woman who was approximately five hundred years old and sleeping peacefully by the fire. “You don’t say . . .”
And then everyone laughed and laughed and Maggie wondered how hard it would be to kill a man with a dessert fork.
Because the dead ends weren’t setbacks. Not if she learned from them.
“The difference between a poison and a medicine is the size of the dose,”
“Because even though I’m a sucker for an only-one-bed romance, I don’t know if it counts if there’s a second bed on the other side of the wall.” “But I like your bed being on that side of the wall. I like it even better when you’re in that bed. And— Wait. You read romance?” “Sweetheart”—Ethan lowered his voice and his eyes—“I absolutely read romance.”
“I’m going to cut you free. Can you turn a little more for me?” She did. “Good girl.” “Are you calling me a dog?”
But Maggie pulled back. “Do you have the keys?” He’d never been more insulted in his life. “I don’t need keys.”
Maggie studied the book that lay between them with a focus that could only be described as unrelenting, and Ethan knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life losing board games to this woman.
Then they locked Ethan and me in the greenhouse—” “Ethan and I,” Rupert snarled, sounding snide. “Screw you, Rupert. And she’s right; it’s ‘me.’ Go on, baby.”
His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and he was wearing a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms and a brand-new tattoo. “I still can’t believe you did that.” “What?” He held up his arm and eyed the small circle with the words From the personal library of Margaret Elizabeth Chase. “I don’t have a title page. It was the best I could do.”
