historianinhighheels:

Outright certainty is not an outcome he can rightly lay claim to; though, she supposes the particular breed which find themselves in bed with Bond share a specific identifier, which distinguishes them from others on average.

How upsetting to imagine oneself so ordinary as that; yet it is a definition she cannot, in all consciousness, dispute. She has no illusions on that score or any other; nor does she concede the knowledge of such to place her in higher standing among the accumulated company.  As if self awareness were a saving grace…

She whets her lower lip slightly as her hand slips into his, chin tipping down a degree to offset the soft coloring of her cheeks. Reminder, recollection…the thin tipped, yet sharply punctuated twitch of her smile, dry and self deprecating.

She notes his measured, minute brush; decidedly deliberate to the tender valley between her knuckles and withdraws her hand gently, though guardedly with a soft, polite clearing of her throat. “Yes, you might.  That is a possibility…though hardly a challenge worthy of your caliber, I should think. What delight could there be in deducing something you determine to already be absolutely assured of?”

                 It’s in his job description, reading people — moreover it’s
          an instinct, second nature for so long that it’s as unconscious
          an effort as breathing. So if he notes the delicate flush of color
          that dusts over her cheeks, or the less-than-enthused uptick of
          her lips, it’s not born of an explicit interest in her reaction, just a
          habitual attention to detail, a latent suspicion of the motives of
          others that has always served him well.

                        And by no means does he dismiss its yields entirely.

                 He surrenders his hold on her hand without protest, but shifts
          lightly on his feet, closing a fraction of the distance between them
          without really taking a step. The smile he offers her now is more — 
          not just more noticeable, but also made softer, easier, by purpose
          and inclination.

                 "A prudent man is never absolutely assured of anything in the
          presence of an beautiful woman, Miss Fields, much less an intelligent 
          one. A combination of the two can keep even a man of my caliber on his
          toes.“ His smile widens briefly into a boyish grin. "I have a friend, in fact,
          with a habit for making the acquaintance of extraordinarily lovely women
          who are much smarter than him." A tip of his head, an incline that speaks
          of confession; his voice lowers to a gentleman’s murmur.

                 "But he does have such exceptional taste.”