"So I guess I'll try another." He shifted his hand along her arm with soft sensuousness, and she, looking down at his lips, remembered the long tingling they had given hers the first time they had met.
"Go on and talk," he urged, after a delicious five minutes of silence.
"I like to watch your lips talking.

It's funny, but every move they make looks like a tickly kiss." Greatly she wanted to stay where she was.

Instead, she said: "If I talk, you won't like what I say." "Go on," he insisted.

"You can't say anything I won't like." "Well, there's some poppies over there by the fence I want to pick.

And then it's time for us to be going." "I lose," he laughed.