When the stare lingered a shade longer than normal, she slipped her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on the plump flesh, drawing attention to her mouth. He knew she was merely following directions, that this was not for his benefit, but a spark raced along his spine all the same. Now he was thinking about kissing her, wondering what that mouth would taste like on his own and if her lips were as soft as they appeared. If he moved a tiny bit closer to her . . .

She looked down at her hands and the moment passed. Kit blinked a few times to clear his head. Arousal simmered in his gut, his mind racing with prurient possibilities.

Christ, she was a quick study. And he was in trouble.

Throat dry, he stood and crossed to the sideboard, intending to pour himself a drink despite the early hour. He needn’t be sober for an afternoon of croquet.

“How did I do?” she asked, a tremble of uncertainty in her voice.

He couldn’t lie, not about this. Not to her. “I think you’ve mastered it. If that had been real, I would have dragged you off to a secluded spot and kissed you already.”

“Really?”

Carrying his drink back to his chair, he toasted her with his glass as he sat. “Indeed. Well done, Alice.”

As if she’d never heard a compliment before, her lips twisted into a stunning smile, transforming her into an enchantress. A siren. A goddess among lowly mortals. Men would wage wars for a smile like that. In fact, Kit was tempted to continue praising her just to keep that look on her face.

“Thank you,” she said. “I am curious, though. How do men do it?”

Wait, what were they talking about? Her smile had derailed him. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to gather his wits. “You want me to show you how I flirt?”

“Yes, please. That way, I’ll know when a man is doing it to me—that is, if it ever happens.”

“You may already check that box. I have flirted with you many times.”

“The dressing gown.”

“That, and other things.” He’d touched her cheek and dragged her behind a bush to hold her hand. Ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes in that blasted egg hunt so she would win one of the prizes.

“Prove it. Flirt with me so I know what it looks like.”

“I don’t attend society events, so I’m not certain my skills are applicable.” He was more likely to flirt with an actress or chorus girl, encounters which tended to skew toward direct.

“Fine, I’ll play. You see a woman at a nonsociety party. What do you do?”