“My hands are fine.”

Brian’s frosty demeanor thawed marginally as he observed Lyndon eating unaided.

Yet, his gaze lingered on Lyndon, vigilant against any sign he might seek Rosalynn’s aid.

Lyndon sampled the congee and remarked leisurely, “Mr. Hughes, I’ve declared my orientation. Your looks of affection are unwarranted.”

Dumbfounded, Brian couldn’t muster a reply.

He was not gazing with affection!

Lyndon certainly thought too highly of himself!

her gaze

shared a

Brian not been her spouse, she might have fancied pairing

would dominate in

her musing expression, Brian was momentarily at a

enveloped her in his embrace, his fingers delicately

what’s on your

G E L A ‘s L I B R A R

“Nothing.”

thoughts on

tone,

sought to disengage his

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