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“Too many men already on the string?”
God, she itched to slap that smug little smile from his face!
“Yes,” she said, “exactly. I’ve got them lined up for mornings, afternoons and evenings, and there’re even a couple of special ones I manage to tuck in at teatime. So as you can see, I’ve no time at all for you in my schedule.”
He was laughing openly now, amusement glinting in his eyes, and it was driving her over the edge. She would slug him, any second, or punch him in the very center of that oh-so-masculine chest...
Or throw her arms around his neck, drag his head down to hers and kiss him until he swung her into his arms and carried her off into the shadows that rimmed the lighted set...
“Laurel?” Damian said, and their eyes met.
He knew. She could see it in the way he was looking at her. He’d stopped laughing and he knew what she’d thought, what she’d almost done.
“No,” she said, and she swung away blindly. She heard him call her name but she didn’t turn back, didn’t pause.
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