“Very well, then.” He pulled her into his arms and gazed down at her. “I kissed you once, and I should like to kiss you again, because I wish to know if a second kiss can live up to the memory of the first. I remember a great deal about that kiss.”

Her brows drew together. “And you wish to see if it’s the same?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s absurd.” She shrugged as best she could in his arms.

“You kissed me back.”

“Not that I recall,” she said coolly.

“Oh, but I remember. Quite clearly. I remember the softness of your lips beneath mine.” He brushed his lips across hers.

“I don’t recall that either.”

“Then perhaps you remember how your body melted against mine.” He pulled her tighter against him.

“No.” A vague breathlessness in her voice belied her words. “Not at all.”

“What a pity. Well, I know you won’t remember what else I can recall, because it is my memory and mine alone.” He shifted his head and kissed a spot on her neck right below her ear. She shivered and he smiled against her skin.

“I do remember you didn’t do that,” she said with a slight gasp.

“Unfortunately not,” he murmured against her skin. “I remember you tasted faintly of cinnamon and you smelled of violets. Did you know you taste of cinnamon?”

“Utter nonsense,” she said weakly.

“And I remember, when my lips pressed to yours, I wanted it to go on forever.”

“I don’t. . . .”

“Oh, but I do.” Before she could protest, he pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, there was no response; then her mouth opened to his. He angled his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss. The lightest scent of violets surrounded him and the past engulfed him. She tasted as he remembered, the faintest hint of cinnamon, warm with a touch of brandy. And more, of chances lost and promises never made. Her arms slipped around him and she clung to him. And she tasted, as well, perhaps of hope and beginning anew. His heart beat faster and he knew everything he had denied was true.

And now, as then, she kissed him back.

At last he raised his head and smiled down at her. “Pity you don’t remember.”

For a long moment, she stared up at him, desire and uncertainty in her eyes. Finally she smiled apologetically. “I am sorry, but I don’t remember.”

Surprise and disbelief coursed through him. Surely, even she wasn’t as good an actress as that. “Are you certain?”

She nodded reluctantly. “My apologies, but I’m quite certain.”

He released her and took a step back. “I don’t believe you.”

“It was just a kiss, Grayson, nothing more than that.”

“Nothing?”

“Not that I can recall, which would seem to be an indication that it was not”—she winced—“significant.”

He studied her closely. “Not earth-shattering, then?”

“Apparently not.”