Page 66 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

“Thank you, but all these flowers are too much.”

“That one wasn’t me. The restaurant must just believe in romance.” We glance at another couple walking in. The table they’re seated at doesn’t have a flower. Odd. “And anyway, you deserve a field of flowers.”

Her eyelashes flutter, and she glances down sharply. I run my thumb over her wrist, feel the fast race of her pulse.

A few swallows later, she slays me with a seductive look. “Maybe we should skip ahead to the after-date part. Do dinner another time?”

“Nope. I can’t wait to get you home, but I love this too much to miss it.” This marrow-deep wanting. The hot pulse that travels through me every time I picture her pretty dress sliding to the floor. I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles. “I want to enjoy all of you.”

Her shoulders soften. “When did you get so charming?”

“One second ago. Also, order anything you want, but not the calamari.”

She frowns. “I like calamari.”

“As do I, but I ran into Sandra today.”

“Sandra of the nosier-than-a-bloodhound Sandras?”

She nailed that one. “The woman’s pulse on the town is creepy. She somehow knew about this date and where I was taking you, then she warned me away from the calamari.”

Maggie shudders. “Consider it not ordered. That woman once told Delilah she needed to hire a new barista, even though Delilah was fully staffed. The next day, her lead barista quit.”

Once again, I’m more than pleased Sandra and I are on the same side.

After more light conversation, we peruse the menu and decide to share everything we order. We ask our server for his wine recommendations. By the time he’s back, placing a glass of white in front of Maggie and a glass of red in front of me, we’re deep in discussion on the hot topic of senior citizens.

“The event sounds amazing,” I say, running my fingers over her palm and wrist. I can’t stop touching her smooth skin. Even better, she’s flirting back in a softer, less overt way, dragging her nails over my palm. “I have no doubt you’ll rock those seniors’ worlds and reinstate your good name at work.”

“I better. Shannon keeps questioning me, asking if I triple-checked venue accommodations, timing, and logistics. She has me so frazzled I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something important.”

“Nonsense. You’re a planning queen. And you have until mid-December to figure it all out. The event will be a showstopper.” I twine my ankle with hers under the table. More places on Maggie for me to touch. “If you need to liven things up with them, I don’t mind jumping out of a cake.”

She laughs. “Only if you wear assless chaps.”

“Are there any other kinds of chaps?”

We laugh and talk and touch, ankles mingling under the table, her fingers playing with the hairs on my forearms. We taste each other’s wine and eat off each other’s plates, getting quiet at times, simply staring into each other’s eyes, slow swallows dragging with intent.

She always breaks eye contact first, but she’s been present this whole night. Engaged and showing affection with her light touches. I’ve never felt so in tune with another person. So aware of someone’s mannerisms, from the uptilt of her right shoulder before she laughs, to the way she rubs her thumb and middle finger together when she’s thinking. And the romance at this restaurant is second to none. Not only was there a special red rose upon our arrival, but our server brings us a complimentary slice of chocolate cake for dessert.

I don’t see other tables getting this sort of treatment. Maybe they confused us with someone’s special anniversary dinner, and I don’t bother correcting them. Maggie digs in greedily, moaning and licking her lips.

I wish I could slather her in that cake and lick it off her with thorough strokes of my tongue. “Seems you love chocolate.”

She hums. “Better than sex.”

“Only because you haven’t had sex with me.”

She moves her tongue sensually over her fork, eyeing me like I’m her next bite. “We should leave.”

“Agreed.” But I’m not done with our date yet.

I pay for our meal, refusing her offer to share the cost. I whisk her to my truck after and plant my hands on her door, caging her before I let her inside.

“Are you ready?” I palm the dip of her waist and kiss her neck.

“Yes,” she says, breathy.