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“You bet.” He could use two glasses straight up. Soon he needed to remember to replenish her bar.
“I’ll bring the dessert in here.” She sauntered to the kitchen.
“No, not on the sofa. We’ll eat on the kitchen table.”
Her giggle rippled over him. “Whatever you say, Dr. Winston.” She topped the pieces of apple pie with vanilla ice cream and carried the plates to the table.
He brought her a glass of her favorite Bailey’s cream and a scotch on the rocks for himself.
“Where should I make the reservations for tomorrow?”
“Dinner is at my house tomorrow. I’ll show you the pictures of St. John Island. I’ll order seafood. All right?”
“Perfect. Should I come at seven?”
“Nope. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“You’re not going to come especially for—”
“Six o’clock at your house. Remember I’mold school. I’m not used to letting a woman drive herself to meet me when I’m taking her out on a date. I’ll bring you back whenever you want.”
“Okay.” She flashed him a sweet smile. “Thank you. I’ll prepare dessert.”
“I’m counting on it.” He cleaned his plate, helped himself to a second piece, and sighed in satisfaction. “Your desserts are out of this world.”
“Don’t forget your box. You’ll have apple-pie for breakfast.”
“Whatever you feed me.” He should go now before he sampled a different kind of dessert and rolled on the rug with her.
