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WHATEVER DEVON HAD expected her evening with Blake to be, it wasn’t the lighthearted banter and childlike romping that composed the next few hours. They had races down the hill, ice-skating contests, and snowball fights in between. They were drenched, winded, and weak with laughter by the time they tumbled into Serendipity.
The experience hadn’t been just stress relieving. It had been downright liberating.
Devon warmed up on a bowl of corn chowder, then gobbled down her salad, cheddarburger, and fries and made an enthusiastic dent in her frozen hot chocolate—all in record time.
“You have whipped cream on your nose,” Blake commented, digging into the healthy slice of blackout cake he’d just ordered.
“I know.” Devon kept a straight face. “I’m saving it for later, when I’m hungry again.”
Blake’s lips twitched. “That’s physically impossible. You just devoured half the menu in fifteen minutes.”
“You did it in ten. Besides, I was starving. No lunch. A puny Nutri-Grain bar for breakfast. And a heavy-duty exercise workout I didn’t plan on.”
“Would you have preferred the more conventional dinner and a movie?”
“Not on your life. Especially since I won six out of ten sled races, outclassed you on the ice, and creamed you with my professional snowballs.”
“I let you win.”
Devon rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right.”
A chuckle. “Okay, fine. You kicked my butt. Is that what you want to hear?”
“The truth hurts.”
“Not as much as the snowballs. You pack quite a wallop, Doctor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Devon used the edge of her napkin to wipe the cream off her nose. “Better?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Blake’s grin vanished, and he studied her intently, with an expression that left no room for misinterpretation. “You’d look gorgeous no matter what.”
Devon’s insides tightened. He could be playing her like a fiddle. The past few hours could have been a careful scheme to lower her guard and loosen her tongue.
She had no intention of letting him do either. But that didn’t change her gut reaction.
Blake Pierson got to her.
The question was, how was she going to use that to her advantage?
“That was a compliment,” Blake broke into her thoughts to clarify. “Not a brainteaser.”
She swallowed, snapped back to the here and now. “Sorry. I’ve always been awkward when it comes to looks-related compliments. You want to commend me on my rapport with animals? Great. You want to flatter me on my ice-skating talent? Flatter away. I’ll eat it up. But my appearance? That’s something I can’t take credit for. It’s either the luck of the draw or genetics.”
“Fair enough.” Blake was still gazing at her with that provocative look in his eyes. “Then I’ll rephrase. You’re incredible with animals. Chomper’s proof of that. You’re the epitome of grace on ice skates. But like it or not, you’re also a knockout. Not to mention sexy as hell—even with whipped cream on your nose.”
Somehow, even the teasing seemed intimate. “Thanks,” Devon managed. “I think.”
At that moment, an onslaught of teenagers piled into the restaurant. They were howling with laughter and shouting back and forth to one another.
Blake frowned. “So much for quiet conversation.”
“It seems that way.” Devon was just as unhappy as he was. She had a full agenda yet to delve into. She was far from ready to call it a night. “Maybe we could take a walk?”
“Bad idea. Our clothes are still damp, and it’s even colder now than it was earlier.” Blake pushed aside his dessert. “I have a better suggestion. It’s not that late. Let’s go back to my place. I’m on Seventy-eighth just off Third. That’s less than a mile from here. I’ve got a great bottle of Merlot I’ve been wanting to try. We’ll have a glass and talk.”
Devon’s brows arched.
“You don’t like Merlot?”
