As he tried to focus on the lines, he caught the scent of her perfume—light and floral, with a hint of something sweet. The fragrance was intoxicating.
He found himself distracted by the scent, his thoughts drifting away from the script and toward the woman sitting so close to him.
Xia Lihua's hair was loose, the silky strands swaying gently in the evening breeze. Each time she shifted slightly, her hair brushed against his arm, a soft, featherlight touch that sent a tingle down his spine.
She noticed his slight discomfort, and her eyes widened with realization. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled, her voice soft and a little embarrassed. Without another word, she reached back and gathered her hair into a ponytail, her fingers moving swiftly as she secured it.
