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“Of course. The timeless struggle of two people who are so connected, so deeply entwined in each other’s lives, that they just don’t realize what they have, what they could have. The depth of their relationship is every woman’s fantasy, wouldn’t you say?”
I haven’t taken my eyes off Tabs. Does she really feel that way? And if she does, how can I keep my feelings from her now? This is the sign I’ve been waiting for. I need to tell her I want so much more than friendship.
She points to the paperback and begins reading again.
My darling Gabriella allows her chin to drop a fraction, but I can see the true confirmation of her feelings in her eyes. They are wide, pupils dilated so large her sky blue irises are all but consumed by her desire.
She presses a dainty hand against her breastbone and gasps.
Tabs mimics the action in the book, pressing her own hand against her tight dress. Like in the book, she gasps. Then, instead of reading the rest of the scene, she continues to act it out, sighing out a long breath then falling with her head against my shoulder.
Several ladies cheer.
But Tabs holds the position just a bit too long. Then a lot too long.
“Tabitha!” Ruthanne is the first to realize that she isn’t acting.
I twist sideways in my chair and scoop Tabs into my arms.
“Turn her so I can untie the damn corset,” Ruthanne barks, rushing across the room. Her hands move to Tabs’s back as she gets to work.
“She needs smelling salts!” Millie says. I think she’s kidding—or too caught up in the book we’re reading—but she hands me an actual vial. It’s already open, and I wave it under Tabs’s nose.
I’m about to bark that we need to call an ambulance when her eyes pop open. She tries to scramble out of my arms, but I tighten them around her.
“Take your time,” I tell her softly.
I don’t add that I’m enjoying the feel of her in my arms more than a best friend should. But it cements my decision to tell her the truth about my love for her. Tonight.
If all goes well, I could be holding her, like this, every day of my life. Preferably, without the fainting.
TABITHA
Cam places two bags of groceries on his kitchen table. “So that was some book club meeting.”
“Singular.” An involuntary blush creeps across my cheeks as I recall coming to with Cam's strong arms wrapped around me. "I am never wearing a corset again."
Cam grunts in acknowledgement, but he’s got this far-away look he always gets when he’s thinking about work. He gets like that a lot—mulling over whatever techie things require mulling—and we fall into a comfortable silence as we unload the groceries.
“I wish I’d been in costume, too,” Cam says, his voice so quiet, I barely hear him over the crinkling of the grocery bags.
I glance at him in surprise, wondering if I’d misheard him. “You’d dress up as the Duke?”
He nods, and I try to picture him in a white ruffled shirt, tucked into black breeches and shiny boots. Suddenly, the Duke takes Cam’s face, and my cheeks flush. “Maybe you can join us when we read The Duke’s Prize. It’ll be out in September. I’ve been meaning to ask,” I touch his arm—something I’ve done hundreds of times—but it somehow feels too intimate, and I quickly pull away. “Since when do you read historical romance?”
Cam rubs the back of his neck and grabs a colander from the shelf above the sink. “A while.”
“Ruthanne’s right. You do rub the back of your neck just like the Duke does when you’re uncomfortable.”
“A lot of people do,” Cam mutters defensively. He places carrots, mushrooms and broccoli in the colander in the sink. “Why don't you sit? Stir-fry is a one cook job.”
That man is going to make some woman really happy one day.
Wait… Where did that thought come from?
I stare at Cam and wonder what our first date would be like if we weren’t us and we’d just met. Probably a lot like this, since we’d both rather have a quiet night in with books and a homemade meal than go to a noisy restaurant or bar. Cam is the ideal that I don’t think any other man will ever live up to.
I sigh, a bit too loud. Maybe a little too sad.
