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tried not to react. Nobody needed to know that her heart had just sped up in an almost opposite amount that time had suddenly slowed down.
    Sam shook his head. “You’ve really gone round the bend on this girl. You talked me deaf in one ear about it last night.”
    “We don’t have to talk about it now.” Gib stood abruptly, heading to the kitchen to top off a mug that looked suspiciously still full of coffee.
    “Oh, I think we do,” said Ivy. She perched on the purple sofa arm next to Sam. “Gibson texted me three times last night, begging for the guest list to the wedding. He has some ridiculous notion that I’d violate the privacy of my bride and let him phone up every single female guest.”
    Sam scratched his head. “What’s your game plan? Just burst out with, hey, did ya happen to kiss a random stranger during the blackout?”
    “Seems like a straightforward question.” Gib sat back down, irritation obvious in his stiff spine and clenched jaw. It made Daphne want to stroke a soothing hand from those chiseled cheekbones down to his lickable lips. God, why couldn’t she stop looking at him like a playground of passion? That kiss unlocked a door she’d dead-bolted shut for years, and now she couldn’t find a mental crowbar to slam it back into lockdown.
    Ivy pursed her lips. “It seems like a way to piss off about—what—a hundred or so women?”
    “Why—did you change your mind? Will you give me the list?” Hope bubbled off his voice.
    “Of course not. But if your kisses are as spectacular as you claim, maybe your Cinderella will come looking for you.”
    Mira waved her napkin in the air to interrupt. “Speaking of dating, I need a favor.”
    Sam raised an eyebrow. “Tired of me already?”
    “Not for at least another eighty years.” She nuzzled his cheek, then continued. “With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, I want to spotlight an aphrodisiac-based picnic in A Fine Romance.”
    Whip-smart idea. Ivy might’ve come up with the idea—and the capital—for a romance store, but Mira had put her personal stamp on it from her first day as manager.
    Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, do you really believe in that stuff?”
    “I really believe it will sell like crazy, and make the store tons of money. If nothing else, there’s probably a placebo effect. Two people who like each other enough to share a picnic will undoubtedly begin to feel amorous as they feed each other finger food. The point is, I need to do a trial run.”
    Sam shoved Mira’s sleeve up and trailed a string of kisses up her arm. “Sweets, lima beans and day-old crusts are aphrodisiacs as long as I’m with you.”
    “Exactly the problem. Ivy and I can’t test these, because we’re already putty in the hands of our fiancés. What I need are unattached, objective volunteers. Daphne, are you in?”
    Anything to help a friend. Not to mention that as a silent partner with Ivy, anything that helped the store profit would get Daphne’s accountant off her back about how fast she’d recoup her investment. And nibbling tasty gourmet treats was far from a hardship. “Sure. I love to eat.”
    “And, Gib, I want you to do this, too.”
    What? Had Mira lost her mind? No. No freaking way. Not in a million years. Daphne could not, would not sit across a table playing sexily with food and Gibson Moore. A woman could only bear so much disappointment, and last night she’d taken her share of it for the entire year.
    “No,” he said.
    Whew. Crisis averted.
    “Stop scavenging the town for fresh meat for one lousy night. Help a girl out. It’ll be fun.”
    Gib sighed. “This is almost insulting. Or at the very least, overkill. My charm, my accent and crystal-blue eyes are all the aphrodisiac any woman needs.”
    Truer words were never spoken. As far as Daphne was concerned, Gibson Moore could talk her into bed any night of the week with the accent alone. She couldn’t begin to count the nights they’d sat on this very sofa,