the flicker of fear.
"Are you laughing at me, by any chance, Mr. Kendrick?" she inquired a little archly, and out of the corner of her eye saw the hard mouth above her curve. She risked a quick glance upward. She couldn't be certain, but in the dim light she had the impression that this time the smile was reaching the hazel eyes.
"I find you delightful, Miss Mallory," he said smoothly, steering her easily around a couple so lost in each other's arms as to be a menace to traffic on the floor.
"Perhaps you're not accustomed to dancing with librarians and are finding the experience a novelty," she remarked with mock sweetness, abandoning the notion of trying to free herself. He seemed totally unaware of her efforts to put more distance between them and she ground her teeth and prepared to suffer through the dance. It couldn't last forever, and safe, undemanding Ben was the one with whom she would be going home.
"It's obvious I have been missing something," Simon agreed feelingly. "May I call you Kirsten?"
She nodded, not knowing what else to do. The request was only a formality anyway. Everyone at Silco and, indeed, in the whole town, was on a first name basis. She had the definite feeling he wouldn't have honored a refusal. She felt his hand move slightly beneath the long hair cascading softly down her back and shivered involuntarily.
"Cold?" he asked with what she knew to be false politeness. Did the man enjoy making a woman nervous? she wondered.
"Hardly. I can barely breathe, however," she told him.
"You'll survive. You look like a nice, healthy young woman." he remarked idly. She knew the hazel eyes were drilling into the crown of her head but Kirsten refused to meet them again. "Getting back to the name business, please call me Simon. Come to think of it, someone told me you're a widow. Should I have been calling you Mrs. Mallory?"
"No!" Kirsten said harshly before she could control her tone. How dare he be so rude!
"Mallory is your former name?" he persisted, not in the least put off, apparently, by her obvious reluctance to continue the conversation.
"That's correct," she replied stiffly. "My husband and I were only married a couple of months, Mr. Kendrick…"
"Simon."
"Simon. Not long enough for me to become used to another name. None of my identification had been changed at the time he died so it was a simple matter to revert to my own name. There's no law against it, you know!"
"Of course there isn't. I merely wanted to get the facts straight. Now try and relax. You can go back to staring at my tie if that will help. The music is almost finished."
"You're too kind, Simon," Kirsten responded tartly. "Your tie is exactly the right level for me!" She lowered her eyes to the vague design again, prompted this time by sheer rudeness.
"About the same level as Williamson's head?" he suggested interestedly.
"Not every woman likes to be overwhelmed and manhandled by someone much larger than she is." Kirsten parried bitingly, refusing to move her gaze upward. She wondered briefly how he had guessed so exactly that she found Ben Williamson a much more comfortable height!
"Some may not like it, but some certainly need it," he shot back easily and then was forced to stop moving as Kirsten came to a complete halt in his arms.
"The dance is over, Mr. Kendrick," she told him firmly.
"Simon." he corrected once more as he released her with obvious reluctance. She felt a momentary tug on a strand of hair as the silver hook seemed to catch in it and then she was free.
Ben's gaze was curiously watchful as Kirsten took her chair. "Enjoy yourselves?" he inquired politely, shifting his glance toward Simon as the man lowered himself carefully. A man that size undoubtedly had to be extremely cautious around flimsy chairs, Kirsten told herself spitefully. And then felt guilty as the wicked thought caused the return of her smile.
"Very much," Simon answered for both of them, plainly feeling free to speak for Kirsten as well
"Are you laughing at me, by any chance, Mr. Kendrick?" she inquired a little archly, and out of the corner of her eye saw the hard mouth above her curve. She risked a quick glance upward. She couldn't be certain, but in the dim light she had the impression that this time the smile was reaching the hazel eyes.
"I find you delightful, Miss Mallory," he said smoothly, steering her easily around a couple so lost in each other's arms as to be a menace to traffic on the floor.
"Perhaps you're not accustomed to dancing with librarians and are finding the experience a novelty," she remarked with mock sweetness, abandoning the notion of trying to free herself. He seemed totally unaware of her efforts to put more distance between them and she ground her teeth and prepared to suffer through the dance. It couldn't last forever, and safe, undemanding Ben was the one with whom she would be going home.
"It's obvious I have been missing something," Simon agreed feelingly. "May I call you Kirsten?"
She nodded, not knowing what else to do. The request was only a formality anyway. Everyone at Silco and, indeed, in the whole town, was on a first name basis. She had the definite feeling he wouldn't have honored a refusal. She felt his hand move slightly beneath the long hair cascading softly down her back and shivered involuntarily.
"Cold?" he asked with what she knew to be false politeness. Did the man enjoy making a woman nervous? she wondered.
"Hardly. I can barely breathe, however," she told him.
"You'll survive. You look like a nice, healthy young woman." he remarked idly. She knew the hazel eyes were drilling into the crown of her head but Kirsten refused to meet them again. "Getting back to the name business, please call me Simon. Come to think of it, someone told me you're a widow. Should I have been calling you Mrs. Mallory?"
"No!" Kirsten said harshly before she could control her tone. How dare he be so rude!
"Mallory is your former name?" he persisted, not in the least put off, apparently, by her obvious reluctance to continue the conversation.
"That's correct," she replied stiffly. "My husband and I were only married a couple of months, Mr. Kendrick…"
"Simon."
"Simon. Not long enough for me to become used to another name. None of my identification had been changed at the time he died so it was a simple matter to revert to my own name. There's no law against it, you know!"
"Of course there isn't. I merely wanted to get the facts straight. Now try and relax. You can go back to staring at my tie if that will help. The music is almost finished."
"You're too kind, Simon," Kirsten responded tartly. "Your tie is exactly the right level for me!" She lowered her eyes to the vague design again, prompted this time by sheer rudeness.
"About the same level as Williamson's head?" he suggested interestedly.
"Not every woman likes to be overwhelmed and manhandled by someone much larger than she is." Kirsten parried bitingly, refusing to move her gaze upward. She wondered briefly how he had guessed so exactly that she found Ben Williamson a much more comfortable height!
"Some may not like it, but some certainly need it," he shot back easily and then was forced to stop moving as Kirsten came to a complete halt in his arms.
"The dance is over, Mr. Kendrick," she told him firmly.
"Simon." he corrected once more as he released her with obvious reluctance. She felt a momentary tug on a strand of hair as the silver hook seemed to catch in it and then she was free.
Ben's gaze was curiously watchful as Kirsten took her chair. "Enjoy yourselves?" he inquired politely, shifting his glance toward Simon as the man lowered himself carefully. A man that size undoubtedly had to be extremely cautious around flimsy chairs, Kirsten told herself spitefully. And then felt guilty as the wicked thought caused the return of her smile.
"Very much," Simon answered for both of them, plainly feeling free to speak for Kirsten as well
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