“Frank?” It was a low murmur, but I immediately recognised the voice.
Duncan had temporarily shed the meringue dress, and was in a thin tee-shirt, jeans, and unlaced boots. The muscles of his bare arms shone with sweat from being in the costume, though goosebumps were rising already, and his chest moved quickly as if his breathing was laboured. He still wore the tiara, and his face was pale with greasepaint.
He looked spectacularly sexy to me.
“Um. I found this.” He held something out to me.
It was my missing glove.
“Oh thank god! Where was it?”
Duncan shrugged. “Weird. It was tucked into the pocket of my dress. I keep my crib sheet of lines there, a peppermint to keep my throat lubricated, my keys. But I’ve no idea how the glove got in there as well.”
Neither did I. I had no idea w
