‘Thank you.’
‘Right, well. Nice to see you again. I’ll leave you to go in.’
As she moved forward, a piece of paper fluttered from her hand and she looked down at it, made to reach for it and then clearly recalled that she was wearing a bunny suit.
‘We must stop meeting like this.’ Zander squatted down and rose. He handed her the paper, his gaze inadvertently taking in the words. Challenge No. 8. The penny dropped. ‘Hen party?’
‘No,’ she said, deadpan. ‘I usually parade around Bath dressed like this.’
‘Lucky Bath.’ OK. That was not what he had meant to say. But somewhere between his brain and his mouth, that was what had come out.
Gabby stared at him. ‘No. Not lucky Bath—and definitely not lucky me. Would you like to parade the streets dressed like this? Or the male equivalent, whatever that is. How about in a pair of tighty-whities?’
There was a silence as they both contemplated the scenario. Her face turned pink and her look of appraisal morphed into one of confusion. ‘And bunny ears,’ she added.
‘Probably not many women’s fantasy.’ Another vocal miscue. ‘Not, of course, that a bunny suit features in my fantasies. At all.’ And that was worse. It was obvious that it had been a long time since he’d interacted socially with a woman. Time for a subject change. ‘Anyway—did you manage the challenge?’
‘Nope. Not yet. I thought I’d come to the abbey and have a bit of time out...maybe come up with a strategy. Or even some courage would do. But I don’t feel comfortable going in dressed like this. It doesn’t seem right. Plus I’m nearly out of time, so I’d better get going.’
‘Maybe I can help?’
This caused her to pause. ‘Why would you want to help?’
‘I’m a nice guy. I wouldn’t like you to fail a challenge. Old times’ sake. Take your pick. So, what is the challenge?’
Reluctance warred with the hope on her face.
‘I need to get a photo of myself kissing a h—a...a stranger.’
Ah. This was what happened when you started a social interaction with a woman dressed in a bunny suit. Not that it was a problem; a simple peck on the cheek and they could both go their separate ways. Yet his awareness of her ratcheted up. His gaze skimmed the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the impossible density and length of her eyelashes, the glossy lushness of those kissable lips.
Stop. What was the matter with him? He quite simply didn’t look at women like this—hadn’t done since Claudia. The sooner he got this over with the better.
‘OK. I’ll help. I know we aren’t technically strangers, but it’s close enough.’
Uncertainty touched her features and then she expelled a sigh. ‘OK. Let’s get it over with.’
Despite the echo of his own sentiment, he felt irrational chagrin touch him.
As if she sensed his reaction, she reached out and touched his arm. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong. This is just a highly embarrassing situation for me. I’m a university librarian. An introvert. Being dressed like this... Asking someone to kiss me for a selfie is... I feel like an idiot. That’s what I meant. But what I should have said is thank you—I really appreciate this.’
‘No worries—and it’s not a big deal. Where shall we pose?’
They moved to the side of the entrance.
‘Here is fine.’ Reaching into her small clutch bag, she pulled out her phone. ‘OK. I’m ready.’
Zander leant forward and aimed for her cheek, ridiculously aware of her elusive flower scent, the smoothness of her skin and the glint of the chestnut sheen of her hair. Then at the last second she moved slightly, presumably in an attempt to position the shot, and instead of her cheek, his lips brushed hers.
Of course the right thing to do—the sensible action, the gentlemanly option—would have been to draw back. But that didn’t happen. Instead he froze, caught in a sudden surge of sensation, tantalised, yearning, preternaturally aware.
Gabby drew in the slightest of breaths, and that triggered something else. Did he pull her forward? Did she step towards him? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. Because all he could think about was the imperative need to deepen the kiss.