“Oh, yes. Now that you’ve compared our romantic tryst with a murderer, I feel precisely like kissing.” I shot him my most incredulous look. “In the last twenty-four hours, we’ve discovered Jack the Ripper might not be who we thought he was and is still alive. A woman was brutally murdered. My father will be here in mere hours, deciding our fate, and you’re lounging in that chaise, sipping coffee, nibbling on petit fours, and making untoward innuendoes as if nothing is wrong.” “They’re only untoward if you’re uninterested. Judging by the flush creeping into your face, and the way you keep
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