Marie Ferrarella - The Measure of a Man

Smith was still looking at her, making her skin feel as if it was alive. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

She drew conclusions from his tone. “But you recognized me?”

What could have passed as a small smile faintly graced his lips. “Hard not to. You haven’t changed much.”

That wasn’t strictly true, he decided silently. She had. The pretty girl she’d been had blossomed and matured into a woman who was more than lovely. A woman with a subtle beauty that easily turned a man’s head when she passed by.

But saying so might give her the wrong idea. Might make her think he thought things he didn’t. He just noticed things, that was all. He always had.

She laughed softly at the notion that she hadn’t changed. “A lot you know.”

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