She smiled up into those blue eyes, their lids, lashes and sardonic brows so artfully shaded, blackened and lined, it was enough to make the girl at the Clinique counter green with envy.
How can a man indulge in so much cosmetic artifice and still look so danged manly and drop-dead sexy? Oh, well, at least I can always borrow his makeup kit if I misplace mine . . .
Ladywriter pressed a tissue to her mouth as she coughed, then cleared her throat.
“Night–owl, Sir Guy. I’ve been quite the night owl.” Her voice was still scratchy after her recent bout with the Crud, but she wasn’t looking quite as “weak-eyed” (as her mama used to say). “I think I’m like Sonya, the dance teacher and choreographer for the Ritz show–I often feel most creative and productive after dark. I get on a roll with the video and photo editing for Pecan Ridge and I–go with it.”
Sir Guy raised a single dark brow as his lips twisted into one of those trademark smirks. “I’ve often done some of my best work at night as well . . .”
Ladywriter sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Mmm-hmmm. I know. I wrote about some of your best–work, remember?”
His mouth twitched, a teasing gleam appearing in his azure eyes. “Indeed . . .” Sir Guy flicked back a stray lock as he tilted his head. “And, I hope–shall write about me and my adventures again?” There was a wistful note in that deep rumble, a question in that sidelong glance.
Oh, dearest Sir Guy–I have rather neglected you of late . . . but it’s sort of now or never for us in Real Life.
She gave him a reassuring smile as she reached out and clasped that big, elegant hand.
“Never say never, my dearest Dark Knight . . .”
Happy Guyday Friday to all!