Moonlight in the Morning by Jude Deveraux Page A

could feel his breath on her cheek. And when he turned, his lips were very near hers. “Any of it,” she said. “I like all of it.”
    He held her hand with the one that was in the sling and put his other hand up to her hair. “My two blind patients say their sense of touch tells them everything. May I?” His fingertips touched her neck.
    Jecca nodded. She was glad for the darkness so he couldn’t see that she closed her eyes at his touch. She’d been so busy at work lately that she hadn’t been on a date in months, hadn’t been to bed with a man in more months.
    She let him touch her neck, her ear, then move across her cheek.
    “But Psyche had a mortal’s curiosity,” he said, “and she wanted to see her husband. She wanted to know if he was ugly.” His hand was on the side of her face, his fingers in her hair, his thumb at her chin.
    “She took an oil lamp,” Jecca said softly, “and went to his bed. When she saw him . . .”
    “She was so astonished at his beauty that a drop of oil fell onto his shoulder and burned him.”
    Jecca knew she had to stop this or the man was going to have her naked in a matter of minutes. She stepped back out of his reach. “It Cch.ut hi was six drops, and that’s why we have six months of winter and six of summer.”
    Tristan laughed, a pleasant sound. “I think that was pomegranate seeds and it’s another story. Psyche gave her name to nosy people like psychiatrists.”
    “This from a very nosy man,” Jecca said.
    “I recently had some lessons in curiosity and I’m finding them useful. Will you meet me here tomorrow night at nine? We’ll talk some more.”
    Jecca couldn’t help the little thrill that went through her. The sexiness of this meeting appealed to her. Of talking to a man she didn’t know, of not seeing him, but able to feel his breath on her face, hear his voice, touch his hand. It all appealed to the artist in her.
    On impulse, she stepped toward him and put both her hands out until they touched his neck. He was taller than she’d thought.
    “Psyche must have tried to feel what her lover looked like. She—”
    “Husband,” Tris said as Jecca’s hands moved up to his head. “They were married, remember?”
    “Ah yes.” She put her hands on each side of his face. He had a lot of hair. “Dark or light?” she asked.
    “Whichever you like better, that’s the color my hair is.”
    His hair was thick, and she could feel a bit of wave to it. If she drew it, it would be dark. “Black as this night,” she said. He didn’t answer, but she felt his smile against her palms.
    His ears were not too big, not too small, and quite flat against his head. “Good,” she murmured, sounding as though she were a scientist making a discovery. “No open cab doors here.”
    She felt his smile broaden but he didn’t speak. She ran her fingers over his forehead. “No receding hairline, which means you’re younger than I thought.”
    “Or it could be hereditary. My father—”
    “Sssssh. I’m doing the exam now. You’re no longer the doctor.”
    “In that case, I can cough.”
    She didn’t know what he meant at first, then tried not to laugh. “I think I should have a nurse present to protect my chastity.”
    “A threesome?”
    “Ssssh,” she said again as she moved to his eyes. He didn’t close them until she touched his eyelids. “Brows not too bushy. Lashes rather too long.”
    “A curse from my father’s family. My niece’s look like feathers.”
    “How uncomfortable for her,” Jecca said as she ran her fingertips over his nose. Long and straight, no bumps, no distortions of any kind. “Nose seems to work well.”
    “I can smell your perfume.”
    “I never wear—” she began, then knew he was teasing her. “I find that Cadmium Yellow wo Ciumt srks best for me.”
    “Myself, I like Cerulean Blue. Especially on nights like this.”
    He stopped talking when her fingertips reached his lips. She could feel whiskers on his cheeks and