Jordan grinned back, and that first-crush, effervescent feeling bubbled through Astrid again—her chest, her fingertips, her toes. Finally, she turned back toward the shelves and pressed the rim of her wineglass to her still-smiling mouth. She stood there like that for a moment, pretending to scan the shelves while grinning like a teenager. Because she knew now. She knew it with one hundred percent certainty—she wanted to kiss Jordan Everwood. Not just any woman or person. Jordan. No one else would do.
