it off.
Also, the sweater was red. Red. Belinda’s wardrobe primarily consisted of black, gray, tan, navy, and (if she was feeling particularly wild) dark green. She couldn’t remember the last time she wore red. It did make her skin look brighter and her eyes stand out. But she wasn’t used to drawing attention to herself, even with something as normal as a vivid color.
So far this evening, Ria and Jacob were here, as were Madeline with Ken and his two daughters. Ken’s youngest had tugged on the bottom of Belinda’s sweater and told her that she looked beautiful, which was about as sincere a compliment as Belinda could ever wish for.
So she was in a good mood as she walked back to the kitchen through the dining room and caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror.
She did look pretty. No doubt about that. She’d almost forgotten she was capable of it.
She was digging out some more cheddar cheese from the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, since the bowl on the table already needed refilling, when a voice from behind her said, “They said I was invited tonight, but I wanted to verify that fact with you before I start to eat.”
She jerked slightly at the familiar, drawling tone—dry, intelligent, sardonic—and straightened up as she turned to see Fitz.
He’d changed his shirt since earlier today into a button-up with blue-and-gray checks. This one was old but not stained or threadbare. He was holding his jacket instead of wearing it. It was almost like he’d made an effort.
“Of course you’re invited,” she told him, wondering why his eyes looked particularly blue tonight. “Everyone who helped is invited, and you helped.”
“Okay. Thanks. I thought you might make an exception for me.” His mouth quirked irrepressibly beneath his untrimmed beard.
She shook her head and made a face at him. “See, you might not know how it works, since you have no manners yourself, but nice, polite people don’t leave others out just because they’re obnoxious.”
He chuckled, his eyes running up and down the length of her body in a way that gave her a little hot flash. “Is that how it works?”
“Yes. That’s how it works.” She felt shy again—the way she’d felt with him earlier today. She wasn’t sure why it was happening since she wasn’t a shy person.
He was still looking at her. Strangely urgent. It made her want to hide her face behind her hair. His voice was a little rougher than normal when he said, “You didn’t go all out with the makeup tonight.”
“You mean all the stuff on my face?”
“Yes. That. I like you this way.”
He looked as if he liked her this way. For just a moment he looked like he was hungry for her. Like he might swallow her whole. And it sent a hot shiver down her spine until the feeling pulsed between her legs.
What the hell?
She shook off her response and turned back to the refrigerator, trying to remember what she’d been looking for in there. “I believe I told you before that I don’t dress to please you or anyone else. I dress to please me.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I think you like yourself better this way too. You’re you.”
He wasn’t wrong. He was absolutely right. She liked how she looked now better than she did with all the makeup on this morning. But it frightened her suddenly that he knew such a thing about her. That he could read her so easily.
And that maybe she wanted him to.
She couldn’t indulge such ridiculous, irrational feelings. She couldn’t.
“Cheese,” she mumbled, thrilled to remember what she’d been looking for at last.
“What?”
“Cheese.” She smiled at him blandly as she turned around. “We’re already almost out on the table.”
“Can’t have that, can we?”
His tone was slow and teasing again. Normal. It was a relief. She must be absolutely desperate for attention if she was getting all flushed and fluttery over the look in Fitz’s eyes.
Fitz. Who usually looked like a cynical fuzzy bear with his oversized jacket, glinting blue eyes, and long brown hair and beard. It wasn’t like he was sexy or anything. He did have nice broad shoulders, and he was definitely very strong. And his eyes were really pretty. But he never let anyone know what he really looked like under his clothes and hair. She couldn’t even imagine kissing him, much less doing anything else.
As she went to the dining table to replenish the cheese in the bowl, she was hit with a