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“Only a year, huh?”
Once again he ignored the D word hanging between them and strangely enough, it didn’t seem all important anymore, with his steady gaze fixed on her, her skin tingling as if he’d physically touched her.
She made a frantic grab at her plait before belatedly remembering she’d let her hair down—metaphorically only, she hoped.
“I like your hair better this way.”
Before she could blink he reached out and captured a strand of her hair, gently twirling it around his index finger, forminga loose curl before releasing it, his fingertips brushing her shoulder as he sat back, a wistful expression on his face.
Clamping down the urge to yank his hands across the table and shove them through her hair, she shrugged, trying to ignore her burning skin where he’d briefly touched her.
“Having long hair in the hospitality industry is impractical. I have to wear it tied back all the time.”
“As long as you get to let it down once in a while.”
Was he asking if she had a social life, if she’d dated? If she counted the catch-up coffee with Lars the Lech and the dinner from hell with Deon the Dumbass, yeah, she’d dated. Twice in six years, two times too many, for neither of those guys had been Blane, neither had come close to sparking her interest as her husband sitting across from her.
“I’m a self-confessed workaholic. I want the café to be the best and to do that I need to put in the hard yards.”
“Work isn’t everything.”
Camryn couldn’t explain the sudden change in atmosphere. One minute he was laid-back and laughing at her, the next he’d tensed up, from his bunched shoulders to his folded arms.
She topped up her water glass from the funky red glass bottle in the middle of the table, making a mental note to look for something similar for theNiche.
“Work is everything or me.”
He paused, as if weighing his words carefully and it was the first time she’d seen him look anything but relaxed all evening. “I guess I’m trying to find out if there’s anyone else in the picture.”
The smart thing to do would be to fob him off, maybe even tell a little white lie to cement their estrangement and obtain the divorce she should’ve got years ago.
Instead, she stalled for time, forking the last piece of cake into her mouth and sighing as the chocolate mousse meltedon her tongue, releasing a citrus burst in tart contrast to the luscious sweetness.
“Come on, Cam, it’s a simple question.”
She couldn’t lie to him, no matter how badly she wanted him out of her life.
“There’s no one else.” She cleared her throat, blaming her husky tone on a stray cake crumb rather than the sick thought that he’d probably dated and extensively. “What about you?”
Not that it was any of her business. Not that it mattered. She was just curious.
He unfolded his arms to lean forward and place them on the table, way too close to hers, lowering his tone to match hers.
“There’s been no one else for me, Cam, only you. It’s always been you,” he murmured, sliding his hand to cover hers, his calloused palm rasping across her delicate skin and sending shivers shooting up her arm.
His heartrending statement hung in the air as waiters bustled around them, cake plates whisked from kitchen to table, and the steady buzz of patrons filled the air along with the sound of muted jazz.
Leaning closer, his forearm brushed hers again and she clenched her teeth to refrain from sighing with longing.
“You know I’m a stand up guy and I don’t play games so I’ll give it to you straight. I want us to get to know each other again. Take our time. It can be dinner, a movie, another coffee, whatever. The ball’s in your court.”
She sat there, transfixed by the sincerity in his tone, by his guileless grey eyes, by the tiny spark of electricity arcing from his forearm to hers.
Was he for real?
Did he seriously want to give them a second chance?
Or was this one of those times when he was passing through Melbourne, found himself single, and thought he’d look up a former flame for old time’s sake?
