Mystery Date. Crystal Green

“offers up the kind of basket I did to a total stranger?”

      “Ah, but that was the genius of your basket. It was innocent, but...”

      He trailed off when she took the bread and held it a few inches above her mouth, drizzling honey into it. Some of the liquid meandered over her lips, and she licked at it, then took a tiny nibble of bread.

      Her chin was sticky with the stuff, too, but she let it stay there for now.

      “You were saying?” she asked, barely recognizing her husky tone.

      But she was delighting in the freedom of this night, being the only person in this room, with him far enough away that she wouldn’t have to see his face and know whether or not she was acting like a complete and utter fool.

      Somehow she got the feeling that she didn’t look like an idiot at all—that he was enjoying the show.

      She put down her bread, casually wiping off the stray honey from her chin, then sucking it from her finger. He’d stayed silent this entire time.

      “You were talking about how innocent my basket was?” she asked.

      His voice sounded gritty now. “It appeared that way at first.”

      “And now?”

      “Now,” he said, “I’m not sure what you’re about.”

      She was actually good at seduction. Who knew?

      She took it up another notch. “Turnabout is fair play, because I have no idea what you’re about, either.”

      After rubbing her finger over her bottom lip, she used her tongue to coyly lick off more honey from that finger. He muttered something on the other end of the phone, and it sounded like an amused curse.

      Good. Let him be just as thwarted as she’d been this whole time.

      “You know,” she said, forgoing the rest of her meal and dipping her finger into the honey bowl this time, swirling the thick mass around, “I have to wonder why you won’t just come out here and sit with me. Is it because I do know who you are and you’re afraid I’m going to get turned off?”

      “Why would you say that?”

      “If you were someone I didn’t like in the fraternity, then it would make sense that you’d rather keep your distance and just play around with me from afar. It would be a sort of revenge for you.”

      A pause, then, “You didn’t know me. No one really did.” His words sounded ominous until he followed them up with, “Besides, I don’t think you disliked anyone.”

      She scooped out more honey, bringing it over to her plate, where she laved the bread with it just as if it were...well, not bread at all but a part of him.

      As she smoothed the honey back and forth with sensual strokes, she smiled. “Is there something about you that’s unlikable?”

      “I’m only a man who’s very happy with the way this date is going so far. That’s all.”

      “And how is this date going?”

      He didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was content with merely watching her play with the honey. As if he was imagining her finger on him, sliding back and forth, making him heat up.

      Just the thought of getting a rise out of Callum sent prickles of desire through her, a wash of passion, coating her with thick dampness.

      “This date is going perfectly,” he finally said.

      “You like that I’m up for entertaining you?” Bold, she thought. And it feels awesome.

      “I wouldn’t exactly reduce you to just being the entertainment.”

      She took a different tack. “Why did you wonder when I’m going to be heading home, Callum?”

      As she waited for a response, she pictured him as a lonely man. Or was he the opposite—someone who merely had a rich fantasy life that he didn’t want anyone to know about?

      He spoke. “Beth might have mentioned to you that I’m vacationing here for the time being.”

      “She did.” A tingle got her right in the belly. Did he have more plans for her? She laughed softly, helping him along. “Do you need a cook or something?”

      “Not exactly, although you’re killing me with the smell of this meal.”

      Good God—he was somewhere close. “Then come down here and eat it.”

      “Later.”

      Was he stringing her along, promising he was going to reveal himself if she came back another night? Lord help her, but she was so damned curious about him that she would return here again and again until she saw his face.

      His voice was as smooth as the honey she’d been playing with when he came back on the phone. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

      Nothing. But she wasn’t about to let him know that so easily. “I’ll have to look at my social calendar.”

      “Then we’ll see if you’re free, and I’ll be in touch.”

      And with that, he was gone, leaving her with a meal that she was too excited—and too calorie conscious—to eat.

      Leaving her with the sense that, finally, after all these years, she could be as free as she wanted to be if she returned for some more playtime with her Mystery Man.