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I hold her gaze. "I do." I reach for the coffee and, without breaking my gaze from hers, take a sip. An intense aroma fills my mouth, followed by a sweet flavor tinged with just the right edge of bitterness, all coated with richness that makes me groan.
I blink. "Whoa!"
"Told you."
I place my cup back on the table. "Question is, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you trust me, Zara?"
She lowers her gaze, then stabs her fork into the salad and spears some leaves. "Not on your bloody life."
I blink, then bark out a laugh. "Jesus, woman, can you be any more perfect?"
She shoots me a glance laced with disbelief. "Umm, did you hear what I just said?"
"Did you hear what I said?" I smirk.
"Do you always have to answer my question with a question?"
"Do you always have to pretend you don’t enjoy our verbal sparring?"
Her lips twitch, then she schools her features into an expression of haughty indifference. "What did you want to talk to me about?" She lifts the leaves to her mouth and closes her lips around the tines of the fork. I watch in fascination as she licks some of the dressing off her lips. The sight of her pink tongue sends a shiver of lust down my spine. My pants grow tighter at the crotch. Fuck, this is so not the time. I really should tear my gaze off of her mouth, instead of imagining how much I’d like those lips wrapped about my cock. A-n-d my balls tighten. If my dick grows any thicker, I’m risking an embarrassing accident the likes of which haven’t happened since I was sixteen.
"Hunter?" Her lips form my name and warmth pulses through my veins.
"Once more," I order.
"Excuse me?"
"Call me by my name again," I murmur.
"Are you serious?" The edge in her voice cuts through my thoughts. I raise my gaze to find her glowering at me.
"Very. I haven’t been able to forget what happened between us, Zara."
She scoffs. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"You mean to say you haven’t thought about what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted by JJ that day at the club?"
She holds my gaze for a second, then glances away. "What happened that day was a mistake."
"Look at me and say that."
She swallows, inhales, then turns to hold my gaze. "It was a mistake."
I look between her eyes, but the mask she wears for the world is back in place. She’s almost as good at hiding her feelings as I am. She’s just as much of a professional who can play the media. We’re so evenly matched, I couldn’t have found a woman more in tune with my needs than her.
"Zara—" I reach over and place my hand over hers. "You don’t mean it."
Once again, a zing of electricity shoots out from the point of contact. My throat closes. A weightless feeling flutters in my chest. And all I’m doing is holding hands with her in a crowded cafeteria. The noise fades away. The rest of the people disappear. It’s as if we are cocooned in a world of our own where all that exists is her and I. And this…jolting awareness that joins us.
She must feel the same sensations, for color suffuses her cheeks. "You haven’t called me once in the two months since that day," she says in a low voice.
"Two months and fifteen hours, to be precise," I murmur.
Her gaze widens. "How did you..." Her voice trails off. She scans my features and her lips firm. "Why didn’t you call me, Hunter? Once again, we meet, and then I don’t see you for two friggin’ months. It’s as if you’re committed to only running into me after long intervals of time."
