Matters weren’t helped any when Ford leaned close to her ear and murmured, “Thank you for doing this. I know you’re probably itching to get back, but you’re the only reason Emily’s not sobbing into that ficus right now.”

Her breath caught. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“Are you kidding?” he countered. His mouth was so close to her skin that she could feel the whisper of his words on her neck. There was an intimacy about it, a warmth she hadn’t been expecting. “You made her night. H-e-l-l, you probably made her whole week. This sort of thing might be ordinary for you, but we don’t run into beautiful princesses every day.”

It went against all of her scruples—and even more of her common sense—to reward a heavy-handed compliment like that, but her eyes snapped up to meet Ford’s. What she saw there wasn’t flirtation or amusement or even laughter at her predicament. He looked, well, sincere.

“Oh.” Her heart gave a flutter, her body gliding and moving with his. “Um. You’re welcome?”

This time Ford did laugh, but it was a soft chuckle that was reflected in the light of his startlingly blue eyes. Lila thought that perhaps their steps slowed, that the music—was there music?—came to an end and the dance was over. But he still had his hand wrapped around her waist, his torso pressed lightly against her own.

As if drawn forward by some power outside herself, Lila leaned closer. Her head tilted up and her breath caught, and for one long, suspended moment, she could almost taste the touch of his lips against hers.

Until, of course, a loud cheer and a burst of applause pulled her feet back down to the ground.

“That was like magic!” Emily ran to her father and beamed up at him, her arms held up in supplication. “Like real princess magic.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ford let go of Lila and swooped his daughter into his arms. “It was, wasn’t it?” he asked.

There was nothing flustered about him, none of the awkwardness Lila felt at finding herself standing all alone in the middle of the tile floor. She still had her arms up as if he were holding her, her lips parted in anticipation of a kiss that was never coming.

“I enjoyed the dancing, but I’m not so sure I’m ready for the part where I turn into a pumpkin,” he said. “Does it happen right away, do you think, or do I have a few hours before I begin my transformation?”

“Dad-dy!” Emily cried, clearly delighted at this piece of nonsense. “That’s not how the story goes.”