”“You can’t.”“I do,” he cocked his head, “Very much so.”Oh, pull the other one. I had no clue why, but I could tell he was trying deli...erately to provoke me. Worse still, it was working. I breathed an exasperated sigh. He downed the last sip of his cocktail, the muscles moving tensely along the length of his throat.“Mr. Caine, really—you don’t want these,” I winced, bracing myself for the malediction, “Benoît Boucher called them quétaine.”He set his glass aside, “Then Boucher is a fool.”Fool?. “When I was a kid, I swore I was going to marry you someday ... Remember?”She wasn’t lying. It was one of those hot summer nights when it was too hot to sleep inside of the cabin since it had no air conditioning. Clarissa and Pam were sleeping in sleeping bags on the beach while Betty and I lay in lounge chairs.We heard the girls whispering, while they were supposedly going to sleep. “I’m gonna marry your uncle someday,” Clarissa had whispered.I think she had a crush on me because I’d seen how. More

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