Today's Reading
The next day she'd glided into the shop wearing a ball gown and stood directly beside his desk, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
He took his time finishing his calculation, which, incidentally, hadn't a chance in hell of being correct, then glanced up at her. If there was one bone in his body that wasn't already head over heels for her, safe to say it now was. "Nice gown. But this isn't the Salty Mermaid," he said with a smug smile.
She silently reached into the delicate reticule dangling from her wrist, withdrew a shot glass, and clunked it on his desk. The scent of brandy tickled his nose.
"Nathan Gutridge sends his regards," she said smoothly, referring to the pub's burly barkeep. "He hopes he can count on you for the annual cricket match." With that, she took her seat across from him, withdrew her sketchbook from the desk drawer, and began working.
Damn distracting, that. How was he supposed to concentrate on measurements and scale while she was draped in silk and lace? "You're not going to wear that all day, are you?"
She blinked slowly, as if his question were more absurd than her gown. Then she laughed. Not a dainty titter or delicate giggle, but a genuine, full-bellied laugh that made him feel like he could fly. Her laugh edged the hair flip out of first place.
"Of course I'm wearing this gown all day," she said blithely. "In fact, I might wear it all bloody week."
His and Kitty's relationship had always been based on an odd combination of fierce competition and grudging respect. But beneath the barbs and the banter—on his side, at least—was a constant longing. It had burned for so many years and was such a part of him that he could almost forget it was there.
Until he'd come face-to-face with her again.
In the years he'd been away she'd grown even more beautiful—something he didn't think possible. One look at her obliterated every defense he'd carefully erected around his heart.
He'd left behind a burgeoning architectural practice in London so that he could be close to his recently widowed mother in Bellehaven. On his first night home, his mother mentioned that despite Kitty Beckett's many suitors, she was still single. Leo had snorted at that out of pure habit. He couldn't let his mother know that he had a decade-old crush on Kitty. But hope sprouted in his chest.
He prided himself in being a practical sort. He dealt in measurements and calculations, nails and mortar, timber and stone. He believed in physical labor and standing by his word. But despite his protestations, Kitty had always had a knack for bringing out the dreamer in him.
Surely, by now they'd outgrown their silly rivalry. Maybe, finally, she could see him in a different light. Not as a competitor, but as a warm-blooded man. Improbable as it seemed, tonight she had him wondering if a beautiful, ridiculously talented heiress could fall for a decent, hard-working bloke like him.
There was only one way to find out.
He strode across the ballroom toward her, sliding a palm over his chest in hopes of quieting the thumping of his heart. When he was a mere ten yards away, a gentleman approached her, lifted her gloved hand, and pressed a kiss to the back.
It was all quite within the bounds of proper behavior, but the man's lazy grin and possessive grasp rubbed Leo the wrong way. He bristled as the bloody rogue whisked Kitty in the opposite direction, toward the dance floor.
"Leo Lockland. Is that really you?" He recognized the feminine voice behind him. It belonged to Kitty's friend. He dragged his gaze away from Kitty, mustered a smile for the young duchess, and closed the distance between them. "Good evening, Your Grace."
"Come now," she protested with a graceful wave of her hand. "You must call me Poppy. After all, it wasn't so long ago that we were building sandcastles together."
"You're looking very well," he said, relieved to see that despite recently becoming a duchess, she was the same freckle-faced, down-to-earth girl he'd grown up with. He'd been closer in age to her older brother, but Dane had spent more time eating sand than trying to build with it. Poppy had been Leo's ally and a fierce defender of sandcastles. "I owe you belated congratulations on both your marriage and the birth of your daughter. I'm happy for you, Poppy."
"Thank you." She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. "It's nice to have you back in Bellehaven. It's been ages, hasn't it? I thought I might see you when—"
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