She was too far away for noticing. He shouldn’t have been able to see her dark hair, gleaming in the orange light of the pub as she turned to face him. He shouldn’t have been able to detect the stain of red on her lips or the low dip of the line of the dress she wore that had clearly been purchased from the devil himself. Not that Caleb should have been able to see the sinful garment, nor the way it framed the rise of her breasts, the swell of her hips. Nor should he have been able to hear her laugh over the scores of others, or smell her, warm and rich like almond tarts. But he did.
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