Chapter 7: The Kiss

Preston's hand was already rising toward my mask.

I could not breathe.

Behind it, with a hundred people watching, I would have had no face to hide.

"Excuse me."

Jasper's arm came around my waist from behind.

"Mr. Ames," he said pleasantly. "My date has had a long night."

"I only wanted to see the woman who just spent three million dollars on my tiara," Preston said. "I think I'm owed that."

"You're owed a receipt," Jasper said. "Darling, we're leaving."

He had never called me that.

I turned to say something, anything, and Jasper's hand slid up under the lace at the side of my face.

Then he kissed me.

It was not a polite kiss for an audience.

His mouth was warm and sure and slow, and my hands closed on his lapels before I decided to move them.

He tasted like champagne and the mint he had been chewing all night.

The room, the band, the cameras, all of it dropped out of my head.

His thumb moved along my jaw under the mask.

I made a sound against his mouth that I had not made in years.

Nobody had kissed me in two years of my marriage unless Preston wanted something.

When Jasper lifted his head I was holding on to his coat with both fists.

His eyes were very dark behind the black mask.

For one second he looked exactly as shaken as I felt.

Then it was gone, and he was only looking at me with polite concern.

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