Page 82 of The Fiancée Farce
“On?”
Gemma smiled, sly, that single dimple in her left cheek appearing. “On what you’re bribing me with, obviously.”
Tansy’s heartbeat quickened, pounding nearly painfully at the base of her throat. “I guessthatwould depend on what it is you’d like.”
Gemma crawled across the rug, awfully graceful for being down on her hands and knees. “Come to think of it, thereisone thing.”
Tansy swallowed hard. “Tell me.”
“Kiss me.”
Even as a laugh burst from her lips, Tansy’s heart thundered. Another taste of Gemma, another kiss. And now she didn’t have to worry that their every kiss would be their last. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Hush.” Gemma’s eyes darted between Tansy’s eyes and her lips, lingering longer on the latter. “Kiss me?”
Tansy leaned in, keeping her eyes open, closing them only when she had to, their noses brushing, their lips a hairbreadth away from touching.
“You’re killing me,” Gemma whispered, breath fruity and sweet and just a touch sharp from the tannins in the wine.
Okay, that was enough anticipation. Tansy brushed her mouth against Gemma’s—
A phone rang.
Not Tansy’s; hers was set to silent. It had to be Gemma’s.
“Fuckin’ A.” Gemma snatched her phone off the coffee table and groaned. “It’s my uncle. Brooks.”
Tansy’s stomach plummeted. “Brooks?”
“I’ll talk to him later.” Gemma sent the call to voicemail. “I forgot to tell you; he came to visit me earlier today.”
“Brooks did?” And Gemma was only telling her about thisnow? “Today? When? What did he say? Did he overhear you? Does he know that—”
“It’s okay.” Gemma smiled. “He knows.”
Heknew? Tansy stood up, needing desperately to move around. To feel like she wasdoingsomething, even if it was inane as fluffing the pillows on the couch and pacing the length of her living room. “He knows. Okay. He knows. He... heknows.”
No matter how many times she said it, it never sounded any better.
She gathered the hair off the nape of her clammy neck and swept it up into a messy bun held in place by the trusty tie around her wrist.
Gemma watched her pace the length of the living room, an odd, almost amused smile on her face. Except that couldn’t be. She couldn’tpossiblybe amused at a time like this. “Tansy.”
“Mm?”
“Stop pacing. Please.” She patted the floor. “Come sit.”
“But I—”
“Come sit,” Gemma repeated, her tone brooking no arguments. She stared up at Tansy with pleading eyes. “Please. Your pacing is making me dizzy.”
Reluctantly, Tansy returned to the rug.
“Brooks knows,” she said. “But he isn’t going to tell anyone.”
Tansy’s head snapped to the side so fast she was pretty sure she’d just given herself whiplash. “He’s not?”
“So he says.” Gemma nodded. “And oddly enough, I believe him.”
