Page 82 of Austen Persuaded

“Perhaps not everyone,” he said softly. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on mine for a long moment. “But I have my share of fans. Sometimes I worry that I’ll peak too earlythough. I mean, I’m not even 30 yet.” He shook his head. “What a problem to complain about, huh? Sorry.”

“No, it’s OK. My friend Viv said something similar about our writer friend Jack, who’s kind of facing that. He’s in his early 30s, but he’s achieved so much success as a writer already that we worry he’s peaked too soon. He seems pretty content in life—he’s just that kind of person—but who knows if it will last. So much life ahead—” My eyes had been wandering but happened to land back on his face. His mouth was curved into a severe frown, while his arms were crossed in a defensive pose. “Oh, did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if—”

“No. Nothing,” he said abruptly, looking away. He quickly rose to his feet. “Actually, it’s time to take your temperature. Let me get the thermometer, one moment.” He practically raced out of the room.

What on earth did I say or do?

I tried to think frantically, replaying the scene in my head.

I was talking about peaking in careers, and I mentioned—oh.

Oh.

Viviana.

He remembers her.

Of course he does, and now he remembers why he hates me.

Why, oh why, did I have to bring her up? We were getting along, for once.

And it was …

I didn’t want to admit it.

It was nice.

Better than nice.

Before I could ruminate any longer, he was back with two thermometers. “First, we’ll do the forehead thermometer and then the oral one, just to compare,” he said, his tone all business.

But as he came close, close enough to place the thermometer in front of my forehead, his eyes locked on mine with something unspoken. Not just concern. Something heavier. Something that twisted in my chest.

I opened my mouthto say something—anything—but he shook his head gently.

“Don’t talk,” he said. “Just let me do this.”

I nodded, and as I opened my mouth, his hand hovered in front of me, steady and careful. But it was his eyes that undid me—drawn to my lips, lingering just a second too long.

He’s watching to make sure he gets the placement right. That’s all.

Still, my pulse was racing, my breath uneven.

The way he looked at me—like he remembered everything—made me wonder if he was thinking the same thing I was: how close we were. How close his mouth was to mine.

The thermometer beeped softly between us, but the silence felt louder.

Like the space where a kiss almost happens—and doesn’t.

He inched back slowly as he removed the thermometer and squinted at the tiny screen. “Both above 98 degrees. You’re perfect. But … are you all right?” He sat down next to me, closer this time, with genuine concern on his face as his gaze swept over my heated cheeks. “You look … I don’t know. Are you feeling symptoms of—”

Mortified, I interrupted him. “I’m fine. I think … I’m, uh, probably just tired. It’s been a long day.” I wasn’t lying. Ithadbeen a long day, and I was beyond exhausted. It was a convenient excuse for blushing and nearly panting in front of him. “Can I snooze on your couch? Just for a couple hours probably, until the storm lets up. I’m sure a little nap will be enough.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Annie,” he snapped. “You can stay the night. The roads won’t magically be safe and clear within a couple hours. It would be dangerous to venture out again. And even if they were, you’ll need more than a couple hours of rest before you can brave that winter mess out there.”

“But I should—”

“You can stay in my sister’s room. She wouldn’t mind at all. There’s a guest room, but it might be a bit dusty. She doesn’t entertain out-of-town guests often, other than me.”

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