you say.” Digging out some hot fudge, she left the spoon poised over the dish so the warm chocolate dribbled over the whipped cream. “You’re the one who said we couldn’t be friends if you didn’t give me an orgasm. I’m only trying to accommodate you.”
He paused, his fork in midair, and watched the hot fudge ooze from the tip of her spoon. In what looked like an unconscious gesture, he ran his tongue over his lips. “Tell me again when you’ll be finished with the newsletter?”
“I have to put it to bed, as we say, by noon tomorrow. I got behind this week so I’ll probably pull an all-nighter to get it done.” She turned the spoon upside down and slid it into her mouth as she held his gaze.
“Will you be free after that?”
She sucked the hot fudge from the spoon and slid it back out of her mouth. “I’ll have to check my calendar. I might have a date tomorrow night.” She didn’t. She’d broken up with Brian two months ago, and nobody promising had appeared on the horizon since then. But she had to protect herself, or she was liable to end up in Dustin’s hotel room tomorrow night.
Although she’d been an easy conquest once upon a time, she wouldn’t make that mistake again. No matter what he might say to the contrary, this could be all about the chase. Once she gave him what he wanted, he could easily drop her again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
His voice was husky with leashed tension. “You’re torturing me on purpose, aren’t you?”
She gestured with her spoon as she leaned toward him. “I’m trying to show you that this is an impossible situation you’re trying to set up. You can’t ride into my life after ten years and expect me to fall into bed with you so that you can have a perfect record with the ladies.”
“So you won’t see me tomorrow night?”
“I might, if I don’t have a date. But we have to have an understanding that I won’t go to bed with you. That would put way too much pressure on both of us.” And might leave me open to another painful rejection.
“All right.”
She was a little disappointed that he’d give up the campaign that easily, but she smiled as if pleased with his decision. “Good. Then we understand each other. I think eventually you’ll see that—” She paused as he eased out of the booth. “What are you doing?”
“Move over. I’m taking you up on your earlier offer.”
“Uh…” The spoon dropped from her fingers and clattered to the table.
He sat on the edge of her seat, his thigh brushing hers, his arm over the back of the vinyl seat. His mouth was inches from hers, his scent surrounded her, bringing a surge of memories. “Lost your nerve?” he murmured.
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