She might have lied. She knew herself gifted at the indiscreet and easygoing untruth. In any case, just when it didn't make any difference. His eyes were extreme, direct, and, she thought, somewhat furious. She found she was unable to fault him for it. "T can't say I at any point have, with the exception of last evening."
"Neither have I. Neither have I," he rehashed, and let her go so he could pace. "That is something to ponder."
"Trace, I think we both know that the more sweltering the fire, the faster it streaks, and the sooner it goes cold." "Perhaps." He considered Gwen, the words she'd spoken to him. "We'd both know that going in."
"We would." Just as the two of them acknowledged they weren't equipped for becoming hopelessly enamored. He was correct, she thought. They were a miser
