It was too late, because Evie was laughing into her palm. And Trystan Maverine watched her, utterly, properly, and near hopelessly in love with her. “Oh, that’s amusing, is it?” he said accusatorily, looking a little predatory as he backed Evie into the wall. “You take enjoyment in how I turn into an ill-spoken nincompoop every time I talk to you?” Evie’s back hit the wall, and she grinned. “I love that word.” Trystan’s eyes smoldered, but his lip curled enough to show his dimple. “I know.”
