A Week With The Best Man. Ally Blake

for so far he’d not felt a need to hide behind propriety. Yet hearing those words from that mouth were the worst kind of bittersweet.

      She’d have melted if he’d as much as gifted her a smile when she was sixteen. Now a distraction of this kind was the very last thing she needed.

      When she said nothing, he went on. “And by immoderately, I mean unfairly. With relish. As if to dazzle. To create shock and awe. Why do I get the feeling this is your version of playing dirty?”

       Because you’re too smart for your own good.

      Harper thought she might have found an ally, but she’d thought wrong. Cormac Wharton would have to be watched, and handled, very carefully indeed.

      She lifted a hand to fuss with the perfectly straight lapel of Cormac’s jacket. “For a small-town boy, you clean up okay yourself.”

      After the briefest of beats, Cormac murmured, “Look at that. We can play nice.”

      And he leaned in to her, just a fraction. Enough that she was forced to flatten her hand against his chest. Felt the steady thump of a strong heart through her fingers as they stood, toe to toe. Who would flinch first? Not Harper. Never Harper.

      “Hurry up, you two!” Lola called from inside the dining room.

      Harper pulled her hand away right as Cormac leant back. The game a draw. Though the skin of her palm tingled as if she’d held it too close to an open fire.

      Something flashed across Cormac’s face before he hid it behind a smile. Then, sweeping an arm ahead of him, he said, “After you, my lady.”

      Harper couldn’t help herself; she curtsied, earning an ear-to-ear grin that had her blinking to clear her eyes, before they joined the others.