“You clean up well.” “Not half as well as you.” His glittering gaze took in her outfit, then returned to meet her eyes. “You trying to give me a stroke, countess? Because you’ve just about done it.” She laughed. “Did you just call me countess?” “You are one, right?” “I don’t believe we have any countesses here in America.” “Sure about that?” “Pretty sure.” “Well, if we had any, you’d be one. You look beautiful.” His compliment poured over her like a sunbeam. “Thank you. So do you.”
