“Why are you frowning?” he murmured.
This was a dream. Only a dream. She could tell it like it was. “You’re so…gorgeous. And I’m so…plain. I feel dowdy next to you.”
That occasioned a crack of laughter from him. “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”
“Every morning. And it has never lied to me yet. I’m at best an average looking woman.”
“Then there must be something wrong with your eyesight.” She started to argue, but he cut her off. “I’m serious. Your eyes are so extraordinary, I can’t tear my gaze away. The intelligence and warmth that shines out of them is breathtaking.”
She huffed, and he laughed again. “Some women are flashy, some are pretty,” he told her. “Some are fashion model striking. But you—you’re different.”
“Oh, here we go. If you say I’m interesting or unique looking, I’ll slug you.”
He grinned. “You happen to be both of those things. You are…” he thought about it, and then said, “…timeless.”
“What’s that? A politically correct metaphor for looking middle-aged?”
“Jeez. You’re not this prickly when you’re awake,” he grumbled.
She laughed. “Yes, I am. I was just being polite this afternoon. I figured I’d break you in slowly to how miserable I am to work with.”
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