The dim porch light revealed her smile. “I had a wonderful evening, Gallagher. Thank you.” Clay’s eyes were fixed on her lips. Could they possibly be as soft as they looked? With a monumental effort, he managed to tear his gaze upward, only to find her green eyes every bit as magnetic. He tugged gently on a loose tendril of hair. “I’m glad, ma jolie dame. Maybe we can do it again?” Lowering her gaze, she spoke so softly he almost missed it. “I’ll look forward to it, monsieur.”  Just when Clay thought he couldn’t resist at least a brush of those inviting lips with his own, Destiny’s spontaneous humor—apparently never far from the surface—prevented him from losing control. Her lips parted in an enchanting smile and she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m afraid that’s all the French I know, and I only learned it tonight.” Clay chuckled. So now what? Should he just say good night and go? Should he kiss her?  Man, I can’t believe how much I want to kiss her. Shake her hand? He settled for pulling her into a gentle hug, making it possible to drop a feather-light kiss onto her hair. I think I like you far too much, pretty lady. Grinning in the dusky darkness, he decided it was all right to say the words aloud. “Je crois que je vous aime bien trop, la jolie dame.” Stepping back, he took the key from her unresisting fingers and opened the door. With a final touch—the brush of a finger under her chin—he turned and walked away. He almost reached his car door before she called out, just as he’d hoped she would. “Clay?” He turned. “What was it you said?” He sent her a little grin he hoped was mysterious, raised a hand in farewell, then slid behind the wheel and drove away. A fellow had a right to keep a thing or two to himself.