Bree’s throat was parched. She parted her lips simply to ask for water…and then wearily closed them. No more. She’d already been totally mortified at the ticket counter, trying to talk via pad and pen. Once she was alone at Gram’s cabin, the squirrels wouldn’t care that she was as mute as a stone, but for now she just couldn’t handle any more complications.

“Scotch for me,” her seatmate said smoothly, but instead of looking at the stewardess he was studying Bree. A ripple of a frown dipped into his tanned forehead.

He said nothing until the stewardess returned with his drink. “The lady has changed her mind and would like a scotch as well,” he told her.

“Certainly, sir.” The brunette beamed.

Bree glowered. She hated scotch. Furthermore, Mr. Manning refused to stop staring at her. Averting her face, she again tried to ignore him.

“There you go…” Hart pulled down the tray in front of her, set her unwanted drink on it and arranged the napkin. His movements were so casual and automatic that she was totally unprepared for his next one. Firm fingers claimed her chin and tilted her face to his. “I didn’t mean to offend by teasing you before,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize that you couldn’t speak. Look…I know how difficult it can be for you in public-I have a second cousin who’s deaf. And if I could help…”

He enunciated in clear, careful tones. Ideal for a lip reader. Frustration warred in Bree with an unfamiliar confusion. Something was wrong with her pulse rate. Something that directly related to the caress of his forefinger on her cheek.

His fingers gradually dropped, and she groped for the drink, taking a quick gulp. The scotch was awful, awful, awful. Like oil. Still, she took another slow sip before setting the glass down again. Immediately, those fingers reached for her chin again, as firmly determined as they were gentle, forcing her eyes to meet his.

“Are you still offended? I really didn’t mean to tease you,” he repeated softly. He stared at the trace of moisture on her bottom lip as if he’d just found gold. Wet gold. A wickedly elusive smile touched his mouth. “But you’re also an exceptionally attractive woman. You can hardly blame me for coming on to you. And believe me, whether or not you can talk doesn’t make a whit of difference.”