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Unless she counted how fast he’d run out on her.
Wincing at the memory, she got busy with the day’s takings and did a final check for tomorrow’s bookings, determinedly avoiding looking at the table where the occasional low rumble of laughter emanated from.
She focussed on the booking diary and accompanying table sketches, running her finger down the list of names, matching them to the table numbers, but the figures blurred and danced the harder she stared at them and finally relenting, she allowed her gaze to drift toward Dirk and Mike’s table.
Either Blane had been staring at her all along or he was doing his mind-reading trick again, because the second she looked up their gazes locked and held, an unexpected rush of heat flooding her body, making her hands quiver and her legs tremble so hard she had to grip onto the bar for support.
He smiled, a slow, sensual upward curving of his lips, a smile designed solely for her, a smile of temptation personified.
She didn’t stand a chance.
No matter how much she told herself this was just a quick catch-up supper while they discussed business, no matter how hard she tried to believe she wasn’t doing this because she was curious to hear his excuse for what he’d done, no matter how much she wanted to turn him away, to hurt him as he’d hurt her six years ago, she knew beyond a doubt that Blane Andrews, in all his tempting glory, still intrigued her enough to sit down with over her favorite dessert after all this time.
She had a date with her husband.
Chapter Three
“What?” Camryn asked, fighting the urge to squirm under Blane’s intense scrutiny. “You’ve seen me eat chocolate before.”
“Not with such gusto. It’s cute.” Blane’s lopsided grin made her want to stab him with her fork, damn his charm.
She was enjoying this way too much. Not just the Death by Chocolate sampler platter, which was to die for, but the easy-going camaraderie that had sprung up between her and Blane with little effort.
She’d been determined to discuss business, scoff down her chocolate dessert, and bolt out the door. Instead, they’d made desultory small talk over hot mochas, loosened up through sensational almond biscotti, and were presently at the comfortable ‘let’s sit back, relax and avoid any potential minefields’ stage while she stuffed her face with chocolate.
“So what you’re really saying is I’m a pig.”
He shook his head and dug his splade into a massive wedge of mud cake. “You’re trying to get me into trouble.”
“Am I?”
She sent him her best innocent smile and forked another mouth-watering, melt-on-her-tongue, divine piece of choc-orange mousse cake into her mouth.
“Oh yeah.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her and rather than being disconcerted she enjoyed his attention way too much.
“From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re already in trouble.”
Big trouble, the kind of trouble that couldn’t be explained away no matter how hard he tried or what he said.
Yet the longer she sat here, more relaxed than she’d been in ages, she couldn’t summon up the animosity his actions of six years ago deserved.
Shoving more cake into her mouth, she flicked her tongue out to catch a choc crumb clinging to her top lip, the spark of excitement in his eyes as they riveted to her mouth sending heat streaking through her body in a way she hadn’t experienced since…forever.
After a long, loaded moment, he blinked, his eyes crinkling with the smile never far from his face.
“Look, I know you want to talk about your renovations and that’s probably the only reason you agreed to meet me here, and I promise you we will talk business later, but now I’ve buttered you up with your favorite food, I want to tell you what this is all about.”
Just like that, the smooth chocolate mousse solidified into an indigestible lump in her stomach. What was she doing, play-acting like everything was fine and she was on some kind of date?
Blane was her husband.
Who she hadn’t seen in six long years.
She should be grilling him, not noticing the sexy new grooves bracketing his mouth, the laugh-lines that had multipliedaround those striking eyes, and his penchant for rubbing the back of his neck when she put him on the spot.
“If you’ve softened me up with chocolate, what you have to say must be pretty bad.”
