“Don’t be absurd.” She brushed his hand away, then rubbed the spot he had just touched. “It is still there? Still wrinkled?”

He laughed.

“I don’t mean to be vain.” She frowned, then realized it would only make the furrow worse and composed her expression into something less likely to produce wrinkles. “But when one is getting older, one becomes more and more concerned about this sort of thing.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” He grabbed her shoulders, pulled her closer and planted a quick kiss on the spot between her brows. “The first moment I saw you again, I thought you were even lovelier than you were as a girl.”

She stared up at him. Perhaps she did like him a little, after all. Perhaps she’d never stopped liking him, which scarcely mattered at any rate. “Why did you do that?”

“I couldn’t resist.” He kissed her forehead again, then released her.

“I shall slap you if you kiss me again,” she warned. “Hard!”

“No, you won’t.” He sauntered away. “Besides, it’s a risk I am willing to take. Where shall we start?”

“We shan’t start anywhere. I don’t have time for such nonsense.”

“Make time.”

“Grayson.” She hesitated. What could it hurt, really? It was more than likely that no one else was up yet, anyway. She sighed. “Very well, but only for a few minutes.” She glanced around, then nodded at a stack of trunks. “Why don’t you see what’s in one of those?”

“Even better, I’ll open one and you open another.” He flashed a wicked grin. “I’d be willing to bet I find one that is more interesting than yours.”

“Honestly, Grayson.” She rolled her gaze toward the rafters. “You haven’t grown up the least little bit.”

“I know,” he said mournfully. “It’s a burden I fear I must bear.” He dropped to his knees before one of the trunks. “And yet, my trunk will still be much more interesting than yours.”

In spite of herself, she laughed. “Not if I can help it.” She scanned the attic, spotted a large trunk and started toward it. “That one’s mine.”

“Are there any real stories of long-lost treasure in your family?” He raised the lid of his trunk, the hinges squeaking in protest.

“No, more’s the pity.” She reached her trunk, knelt down in front of it and blew at the lid in a futile effort to clear away some of the dust. “One could always make use of long-lost treasure.”