J'aime Everleigh Cavanaugh | Meg Giry (

James lifted a hand to silence him when he voiced that protest. "I thought you were going to let me figure out what you are? And I'm not bored yet."

She collected the pen, scissoring it between two elegant fingers with a gesture toward him. "Sit," the word wasn't a demand, but a very strong suggestion. When her smile went a little coy, it was at odds with the way she motioned that pen toward the couch. Sit.

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