"Mr. Fitzgerald! On the floor? Where they might become wrinkled?" Sophie absolutely did not shiver when his breath caressed her skin. Never, ever, never. Honestly. Well, maybe a little.

She rests her cheek against his. "Besides, you won't be borrowing my clothes tonight at all. We promised Sitara we'd make a pillow fort and a 'camp out', remember?"

She doesn't recall which of them had come up with that particular carrot to make attending the wedding of near strangers more palatable to her, but it had been a good idea. "She's pretty excited, I think. Something about Papa telling ghost stories."