He reached under the table and began to knead her instep with his thumb. A tremor shot up her leg, jumping her pulse into a triple-time dance.
"She claims she wasn't there," he continued, his rich voice deeper by several notches, and as seductive as the moon itself.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle but insistent press of his hand against her skin. "You don't believe her?"
"No."
"I could get Savannah to check it out, if you want."
"I already have a friend checking it out. He should be calling back soon." He wrapped his hand around her foot, his fingers so warm against her flesh it felt like she was being held by hot iron. "Are you ticklish?"
Her eyes flashed open. His grin radiated enough heat to melt the snow drifting past the kitchen window, and devilment shone in his dark eyes. Her heart did an odd tumble. She had a feeling she was seeing a side of him so very few did. "No, I'm not." She tried to jerk her foot away, but he held her tight.
"Really?" His ran a finger lightly down the sole of her foot, and she bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh.
"Really. Now let go."
"I don't think so."
He flicked a fingernail across her instep and the laugh escaped. She squirmed on the chair, an odd flush of trepidation and desire running through her.
He raised an eyebrow. "For someone who's not ticklish, that sounded suspiciously like a laugh."
"Well, maybe I am a little ticklish."
He ran his finger across her foot again. Laughter bubbled through her and broke free. He stopped, dark eyes a heated mix of desire and amusement.
"Okay," she said breathlessly. "Maybe I'm a lot ticklish."
"Just on the foot?" His fingers slid enticingly up her calf, and pinpricks of desire fled across her skin, leaving her hotter than she'd ever thought possible.
"Yes." Her reply was little more than a pant of air.
"You sure about that?"
No. "Yes."
"So you're definitely not ticklish behind your knee?"
His fingers teased her skin as he spoke, and she couldn't contain her laughter. He stopped again, his grin as delicious as the look in his eyes. "Shall we explore where else you might be ticklish?"
"Not in my lifetime." Grinning, she ripped her leg from his grasp and jumped up from the table, bolting for the stairs.
He caught her in the hall and she laughed, halfheartedly fighting his hold on her. He pressed her back against the wall, his hands on either side of her body, neatly corralling her. His masculine odor filled her every breath, and the desire that scorched the air between them left her breathless and aching.
He leaned close, his gaze all but devouring her. "I never could resist a challenge."
His mouth brushed hers, a tender caress that left her lips tingling and her wanting more. But before she could react in any way, his hands had slipped to her waist and she was being tickled unmercifully.
She laughed, long and loud. Laughed until her knees felt as if they were going to give way and tears were streaming down her face.
"Stop, stop," she begged between gasps for air.
He did, bracing his hands on either side of her again. "I think we can safely say you're ticklish all over." His grin was boyishly cheeky.
"You think?" she managed to say.
"I think." He leaned a little closer, and his cheeky grin melted into something far more dangerous, far more luscious. "We can't risk heading out to Betise's for another hour or so. Any idea what we should do until then?"