" He moved close to her. “Do you think I still have a fever?” He hoped she would press her soft hand to his forehead. “I’m sure your fever must be gone” — she gave him a saucy smirk, seeing right through him — “or Bartel never would have let you come downstairs.” “Bartel doesn’t know.” He smirked right back, leaning dangerously close. "

― Melanie Dickerson , The Fairest Beauty (Hagenheim, #3)