“Would you kiss me good-night?”

Andrew’s nostrils flared. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

 

“Why not?”

 

He grimaced and glanced at the bed. His expression told Nicole what she’d wanted to know. “You’re old enough to know the answer to that,” he said gruffly.

 

At least it hadn’t been lack of interest that had made him so eager to rush away from her. She found that knowledge reassuring as she took another step toward him. “I’d sleep much better...” she teased.

 

“You’re laughing at me again,” he murmured.

 

“No,” she assured him. “Not at you.” She could have explained that she was laughing at both of them—for being such a mismatched pair, for being drawn to each other despite their obvious differences. Or maybe at herself, for falling prey to the idea of a happily ever after, for casting herself as Cinderella for just one night. But this wasn’t the time for words.

 

She lifted her face to his. “Kiss me, Andrew.”