Аннотация
“Drew, neither one of you knows what you’re talking about. I’m an expert on vintage clothing and have had my head up dozens more skirts than either one of you.”
Now she couldn’t mistake his smile. It curled his beautiful mouth deep at the corners. “In that department I can’t speak for Dr. Stemmer. Only myself.”
The Clayworth confidence and the Clayworth reputation with women set her on fire. She thrust up her chin. “Probably I’ve had my head up more skirts than you. Vintage ones for sure!”
“That’s debatable,” he muttered, lowering his lids for an instant over those cornflower eyes.
“Of course, how could I possibly have forgotten?” she drawled, helpless not to. “I remember the item Rebecca ran about you and your cousins closing down a restaurant in Paris while cavorting with a troupe of topless can-can dancers.”
His lips twitched and his eyes lightened to a silvery blue. “You can’t believe everything you read. Even in Rebecca’s col...
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