“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 curious

she might have fancied pairing

dominate in such

Brian was momentarily at a loss for

enveloped her in his embrace, his fingers delicately cradling

on

E L A ‘s L I B R

“Nothing.”

Were your thoughts on me,

a playful tone, Brian drew her

withheld. She sought to disengage his hand

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