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“Dig in.” Joe doesn’t wait for me to follow his lead and gets to work on his meal.
We eat in companionable silence, but the undercurrent of tension left over from the kiss doesn’t leave.
“I wish I had some dessert to offer you, but I think the only thing I have is a bar of dark chocolate.” I smile at him across our empty plates. The steak was good. Medium-rare and cooked to perfection.
“Chocolate sounds like the perfect end to a good meal.”
“A great meal. How did you cook those steaks like that? That’s at least as good as a steakhouse.” I take both plates and set them into the sink before digging through the cabinet until I find the bar of 80% Lindt chocolate I keep for craving emergencies.
“I use a cast-iron skillet. The trick is to sear it and then finish it in the oven. Comes out perfect almost every time.”
“It sure did today.” I look around, trying to figure out how to serve a piece of chocolate.
“Thanks. Do you mind if we step out on your balcony? I could use a little fresh air after all this food.” He gets up and carries our glasses and the salad bowl into the kitchen.
“Sure, fresh air sounds good.” Maybe it will cool my nerves. I feel more settled after the food, but something about his presence makes my body temperature rise. I break a piece of chocolate off and hand it to him.
The look on his face when he takes that first bite is priceless. “What is this?”
“Dark chocolate.” I don’t try to hide my grin.
“No, it isn’t.” He stares at what remains of his piece.
“It is. Very dark chocolate.” With a little sugar. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, like black coffee or tomatoes. I savor mine, enjoying the feeling of it melting in my mouth.
“I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I do not like this type of chocolate.” He eyes the packaging on the rest of the bar, as if to make sure he never buys it by accident.
“Give it a chance. It’s good once you get over the idea that chocolate is supposed to be super sweet.” I pop the last of mine into my mouth and look at him.
He shakes his head and follows suit. “Nope. Not getting any better.”
“I hope that didn’t ruin the rest of the meal,” I open the sliding-glass door and step out onto the balcony.
“Not at all. Plus, the company is worth the mediocre dessert.” He walks up beside me.
“Hey, I had no warning or chance to prepare. I’ll come up with a better one next time.” I elbow him into the side.
“I guess that means you’re willing to have dinner with me again.” The light banter between us is gone. His tone is serious as he stares out across the river and the full moon above it.
“I might.” I focus on the reflection of it in the river. The ripples of the moving water soften the lines of the silvery circle of light.
“And what about this?” He turns to face me, using one finger on my chin to turn my own toward him.
“This?” I forget to breathe at the intensity in his eyes.
His finger brushes my cheek before trailing across my bottom lip. He lowers his head slowly, his eyes focused on me until he’s too close. His lips brush across mine, ever so gently.
“Fiona?” he asks when I don’t move.
“Oh, this. Yes, please.” I smile for a split second. We’re too close for him to see it, but I’m sure he can feel it as our lips reconnect and I lose myself in the kiss.
By the time we finally break apart, the moon has moved along its path in the sky.
I’m shaking, and there’s no way it has anything to do with whatever minuscule amounts of caffeine still course through my system and everything with the man in front of me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder as he pulls me close.
“Welcome back,” I whisper, putting my arm around his waist, soaking in the familiar feeling of having Joe McAllister by my side.
16
