“I’m fine.”

“You’re cold.” He quickly took off his tux jacket and draped it around her shoulders, keeping hold of the lapels.

She savored the delicious warmth of his body heat enveloping her. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s a shame to cover up that pretty dress,” he said. “It looks really nice on you.”

“It was my mother’s,” she said, smoothing her hands down the silk. “Cleo and I picked it out when we emptied her closet.”

“That makes it even nicer,” he said.

She nodded, snuggling into the jacket. “I keep thinking I’ll stop missing her. And then I realize I don’t want to stop missing her. What I want,” she said, letting the raw admission slip out, “is to stop it from hurting so much.”

“Ah, Natalie.” Very gently, he slid one arm around her back. “I’m sorry. Wish I could help.”

She paused, sending herself a stern reminder to be here now, not back in the morass of grief that sucked her in with brutal regularity. “You are helping,” she blurted out. “I don’t think you realize that, Peach. You’ve been around through this whole mess, and you’ve been steady, and good to my grandfather, and you’re fixing my house and you made me a closet, and whether you know it or not, that’s helping. I honestly don’t know how to thank you.”

He gazed down at her. The intent look in his eyes stopped her breath. “So this Trevor guy,” he said. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“My … No,” she said quickly, almost urgently. “Why do—I mean, we went out a couple of times, that’s all.”

“Hm,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just, hm.” He lifted a stray curl from her face, and then kept his hand there, cupping her cheek.

“You never told me you were single,” she said.

“You never told me it mattered,” he said.

And then he pressed her up against the wrought-iron fence and kissed her.

It was that kind of kiss. She recognized it instantly—the soft lips, the champagne-sweet taste of him, the melding of their breath for the first time. She leaned in, her lips parting slightly, and willingly lost herself. She let everything fall away—grief, worry, confusion, loneliness. When he pulled back, she felt dazed.

He looked utterly pleased, his mouth curved in a beguiling half smile, his gaze studying her.

She felt the need to say something. “That was …” She took a breath, started again. “I’m flustered.”

“In a good way,” he said.

“I don’t like being flustered,” she said.

“Do you like being kissed?”

“Depends on the guy.” She took a step back, trying to regain her balance.

He grinned, then took her hand and started walking back to the ballroom. “Good to know,” he said.

PART FOUR