it.
Drat. Why hadnât she thought of that when sheâd dressed this morning?
But Jamesâs face held no hint of amusement at her expenseâjust simple curiosity.
She fingered her pendant. âThe necklace was a gift from my friend Tamara, who is a wonderful jewelry designer here in the city. I like to fish.â
âA woman after my own heart then.â
Pia checked her surprise. Of course, he would be interested in fishing. He was her fantasy manâhow could he not be?
âDo you fish?â she asked unnecessarily.
âSince I was three or four,â he said solemnly. âWhat kind of fishing do you do?â
She laughed with a tinge of self-consciousness. âOh, anything. Bass, trout⦠There are plenty of lakes where I grew up in western Pennsylvania. My father and grandfather taught me how to bait and cast a lineâas well as ride a horse and, uh, m-milk a cow.â
She couldnât believe sheâd admitted to milking cows. How would he ever think of her as an urban sophisticate now? She ought to have quit while she was ahead.
James looked nothing but fascinated, however. âHorseback ridingâeven better. Iâve been riding since I could walk.â His eyes glinted. âI canât say the same about milking cows, on the other hand.â
She flushed.
âBut I sheered a few sheep during a stay at an Australian sheep station.â
Pia felt her lips twitch. âWell, then, youâve bested me. I concede.â
âGood of you,â he deadpanned. âI knew sheep would win out.â
âIâve done some fly-fishing,â she asserted.
He smiled. âPoint to you. There are not many women who are willing to stand around in muck all day, wearing waders and waiting to get a bite.â His smile broadened into a grin. âAs petite as you are, I imagine you couldnât wade in very far.â
She struck a look of mock offense. âIâll have you know I stood as still as a chameleon on a branch.â
âThen Iâd have been tempted to drop a frog down the back of your waders,â he teased.
âOh, you would! Donât tell me you have sisters whom you tormented.â
âNo such luck,â he mourned. âI have one sister, but sheâsseveral years younger than I am, and my mother wouldnât have looked well on any pranks.â
âI wouldnât have expected she would,â she said with mock indignation. âAnd if youâd attempted to foist a frog on me, Iâd haveââ
âYes?â
He was enjoying this.
âIâd have thrown you for a loop!â
âDonât fairy-tale heroines need to get to know a few frogs?â he asked innocently.
âI believe the expression is kiss a few frogs, â she replied. âAnd, no, the requirements have been updated for the twenty-first century. And anyway, Iâd know when I kissed a frog.â
âMmmâ¦do you want to put it to the test?â
âIâIââ
What a time for her stammer to make another appearance.
Not waiting for a clearer sign of encouragement, he leaned in, and as her eyelids lowered, gently pressed his lips to her. She felt the momentary zing of electricity, and her lips parted on an indrawn breath. And then his mouth moved over hers, tasting and sampling, giving and receiving.
His lips were soft, and she tasted the faint lingering flavor of his drink as they kissed. The crowd around them receded as she focused on every warm stroke of his mouth against hers.
Just as their kiss threatened to become more heated, he drew back, his expression thoughtful and bemused. âThere, how was that?â
She searched his eyes. âY-you are in no way related to Kermit the Frog.â
He grinned. âHow about my fishing? Am I reeling you in?â
âA-am I on the hook or are you?â
âJames.â
The moment was interrupted as he was hailed by someone and