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He was a fool not to realize it sooner. When she threw her head back and laughed that low, throaty laugh of hers that enchanted him. When her eyes—her mysterious eyes—sparkled with mischief. He should have realized when he saw her in that dress and thought she was a vision of moonlight filtering through the pine boughs, a wood-sprite half glimpsed. When she twirled, the chiffon floating about her ankles, he wanted to kiss the curve of her lips and the hollow of her throat. It should have been obvious he didn’t see her as a chum anymore.