“And yet it seems I know nothing about you,” she challenged. It could have been the dappled sunlight, the distraction she provided from his consistent disappointment, the mysterious glint in her eye, or some odd combination of all of these variables that summoned a rakish mischief within him he’d thought forever lost. “I am an open book,” he declared with false solemnity. “You are anything but that,” she laughed. He made a sound of mock outrage. “Ask me any question you please, and suffer the consequences of my absolute candor.”
