His grin slipped. “What does that mean?”
“Whatever your real purpose for volunteering, you’ve put major time and effort into it. Most guys aren’t so imaginative. ‘What’s your sign’ is as creative as they get.”
As soon as the words were out she wanted to call them back. He didn’t deserve that.
“Now I see.”
She didn’t know what he saw, but it didn’t make him want to do the dance of joy. Her words had extinguished the warmth and passionate animation from his eyes. The coldness there made her shiver. It also made her sad. Just a moment ago his lips were smiling and full—so much so that she couldn’t help wondering if they would be warm and soft against her own. Now his mouth pulled tight. Tense. Angry.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You still think I’m on the make.”
She didn’t bother to deny it. Game playing wasn’t her style. She’d learned to hate it. “It’s a reasonable assumption.”
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