A Man of Distinction. Sarah M. Anderson
wasn’t having any of that. He took hold of her arm and leaned down to whisper, “What’s wrong with him?” in her ear. The smell of her—now he could tell it was soft baby powder underneath lemons—hit him in the nose and collided with that tight-chest feeling until he was dizzy.
She jerked her head back enough to glare at him, but he saw past the pissed and noted how her lower lip had the slightest of trembles. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that lip until the rest of her was trembling in his arms, but he didn’t. That wasn’t why he’d come here. Although he was having a little trouble remembering his original motives at this exact moment in time.
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