"Joking?" Knox Simmons froze, his brows instantly knitting together. He looked at her like he was a little hurt, all aggrieved, and muttered, "Scarlett, I'm confessing to you this seriously, and you think I'm joking?"
"Do you know how much courage it takes for me to say all this?"
"This mix of nerves and excitement and thrill and unease—I haven't felt anything like this in years."
"Look straight into my eyes, really look, look carefully. Take a good look and see whether I'm actually joking with you or not." As he spoke, he raised his hands to cup Scarlett Yates's face, steadying her head so she couldn't avoid him.
Scarlett Yates had nowhere to hide. Helpless, she met that pair of deep, shadowy Peach Blossom Eyes.
Not a trace of frivolousness, not a trace of flippancy, not a trace of playful teasing.
However you looked at it, there was no way he was joking with her.
Knox Simmons's joking face did not look like this; she could tell the difference.
