Page 23 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

"Ms. Graves."

My heart performs something between a hiccup and a medical emergency.

"You know," I say, folding my arms with exaggerated seriousness, "I was beginning to think the vase was simply an excuse."

He blinks.

"It was."

The answer arrives so matter-of-factly that I stare at him.

"You . . . admitted that rather quickly."

"You asked."

I laugh before I can help myself.

"Well, now you've ruined the mystery."

"I wasn't aware there was one."

"Oh, there definitely was."

He considers that with complete sincerity.

"I'm still learning."

Lord help me.

"There is," I continue solemnly, "a very sophisticated vase return system."

His brow furrows.

"Oh?"

"Bright yellow bin. Right outside the shop. Big sign that says Borrowed Vessels."

He actually turns his head toward the front window.

For one glorious second, I think he's going to go looking for it.

Then the tiniest smile appears at the corner of his mouth.

"You were teasing me."

"I was."

"I don't always recognize it."

"I noticed."

"I'm working on it."

"I'll make it easy on you."

"I'd appreciate that."

There it is again.