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“Bennett,” was all I managed to say on a breathless whoosh.

“Hi.” He met me where I’d frozen in front of the class and handed over the bouquet of stargazer lilies and other exotic-looking flowers I couldn’t identify. They were stunningly beautiful.

“What are you doing?” I asked, staring at the heavy vase of flowers.

“I was thinking about you. Wanted to come by and say good morning.”

My gaze flitted to his, my body heating under his mischievous glint. He’d already told me ‘good morning’ with his head between my thighs, his favorite alarm system apparently. And now mine.

There was dead silence in the room. Bennett turned to his young audience. “Morning, kids.”

Some of the girls giggled. Heather said rather loudly, “Good morning, Mr. Broussard.”

I set the vase on my desk, took Bennett by the forearm, and dragged him toward the door. “You have your assignment,” I told the class. “Get started.”

There was some shuffling around and low chuckling amongst them as I pulled Bennett into the hallway and closed the door but stayed where I could watch the students through the window.

“I just saw you this morning,” I whispered, though no one was in the corridor, a strange panicky feeling fluttering in my chest.

“I missed you already,” he confessed, lacing a hand with mine.

My stomach did that triple somersault it did every time Bennett looked at me like that and said something sweet, but also, this was moving really fast. Flowers at work?

“Me, too,” I admitted, glancing away.

He gripped me around the waist and hauled me away from the window, bending to latch onto my lips. I couldn’t help but sink into his kiss, savoring the scent of citrus shampoo, his aftershave, and the addicting scent that was uniquely him.

He was so delicious and so sweet I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his neck and hug him close. While little, baby alarm bells were ringing in my head, my heart soared.

When he was the one to break our kiss and ease me back, he said, “I don’t want to get you in trouble. Just had to see you and tell you how beautiful you are.”

So, apparently, Byron wasn’t a total idiot because hearing those words from a man I was obsessed with made glorious things happen inside me. Like a starburst exploding in my chest, I hitched in a breath at the massive blast offeelings.

He cupped my face and looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. Being the center of that sort of attention from him was a heady sensation. I swear, he was going to kill me with his swoony charm.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What’s with the casual wear? You take the day off?”

He glanced down at his jeans, black T-shirt, and casual jacket. “No. Hale needs an extra hand this morning finishing up the set forBarefoot.” He huffed out a breath. “Figured I’d better volunteer some time so we can get that apartment window finished for the final scene.”

Waggling my eyebrows, I added, “You’re going to be bending and stretching those muscles all day? Working up a sweat?” I sucked in a hissing breath. “Hot.”

He smiled, watching his thumb sweep across my cheekbone, enjoying my teasing. “You can wash me off when we get home. Maybe take a soak together in that big claw-foot tub of yours.”

There was a sudden intimacy in our conversation. As if it were self-evident that we would end up at the same home. The vulnerability between us was only broken by the fact that all of this was still so new. I felt like I’d known Bennett forever but also that I barely knew him. It was a strange, scary paradox.

“I wanted to ask you,” he broke in before the silence grew too heavy, “to see if you’d come with me to the Broadway on the Bayou fundraiser.”

Broadway on the Bayou was an annual dinner soiree to raise money for BPAL, typically held downtown at the posh reception hall for weddings and big parties but sometimes at one of the sponsor’s homes. I’d never attended, choosing to donate to BPAL anonymously when I could. That fundraiser wasn’t my kind of scene.

“Please,” he begged. “I have to go or my dad will blow a gasket.”

“When is it?”

“This Saturday.”

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