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“Done.”
He stepped back, giving her room to move, and she grabbed the cocktail shaker, scooped in the ice, and set about making the coffee in record time so she could re-establish some kind of equilibrium.
“What are you having?”
“A doppio. Double shot of espresso.” Like she needed to be kept up all night again. Not. “So what do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
Her hand stilled on the espresso machine and she sent him her best ‘don’t mess with me’ glare.
“I have to pay you. It’s only fair.”
“Payment, huh?”
She didn’t like the gleam in his eyes or the cunning smile spreading across his face. Both could give a girl ideas—very naughty ideas.
“Fine. My payment is dinner.”
Hell no.
Dinner would involve sitting across from him, staring into those intriguing grey eyes, seeing them crinkle every time he smiled—which was way too often—and trying not to fall under his spell.
Blane was charm personified and if not seeing him for almost a week had her in this much of a dither, what hope would she have spending an entire evening with him and coming out unscathed, resolve intact, at the end of it?
“I’d rather pay you.” She busied herself with making the coffee, injecting the right amount of nonchalance into her voice, hoping he’d accept her subtle brush-off.
“It’s dinner or I take you to the consumer affairs board for non-payment.”
“You’re kidding?”
Of course he was, those adorable crinkles on full display as she sent him a look of disbelief.
He shrugged, his smile not waning. “Maybe. Though it is a non-negotiable deal. Dinner. You and me. You choose the place, seeing as you’re insisting on paying, though I have to tell you, having you shout me a meal doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Why? Used to being the macho male, huh?”
“Used to being the chivalrous male who likes to treat his wife right.”
His low, husky tone left her in little doubt as to how well he would treat her given half a chance, and in that instant she made one of those split-second decisions she’d probably regret later but couldn’t resist now.
“Okay, dinner it is.”
“Great. Tomorrow night suit you?”
She opened her mouth to fob him off with some lame excuse about checking her diary, before snapping it shut. He’d been nothing but helpful and courteous, and if all he expected in return was dinner she’d be churlish not to oblige.
Who was she kidding? Dinner wasn’t all he was expecting, far from it. He wanted her, as hiswife, and her initial aversion to the thought was fading fast.
“Sounds good.” She picked up the cocktail shaker and shook it as if her life depended on it, the jumbled contents whirling around like her chaotic emotions.
Accepting his offer had her torn between dancing through the café yelling the biggest whoopee and running to the storeroom out back to hide for the next month.
“Are you going to pick me up?” His teasing smile warmed her heart as she poured his coffee into a tall glass and handed it to him.
“Thought we’d already got past that point the other night?”
He laughed and raised his glass in a cheer. “I didn’t pick you up. I asked my wife out.”
