“Oh.” She couldn’t figure out if this was flattering or vaguely creepy. She tried to pull her hand, which held the coffee cup, away from his.
“No,” he said firmly. She tried to stop her hand from trembling under the enveloping strength of his touch. From the way he glanced at her hand, she doubted she’d succeeded. “I haven’t finished my coffee yet,” he continued.
She looked down at the half-full cup and relaxed her grip. “Of course.” She walked away, confused and aroused by the touch of his hand on hers, and the look in his eyes—as if she appealed to his taste buds infinitely more than coriander. He was all contradiction: one minute slightly grumpy and critical, the other, devouring her with his eyes and revealing that he liked her art.He liked her art, she repeated to herself. It meant more to her than anything. Flattering, nice, and definitelynotcreepy, she decided.
She glanced back at him when she reached the counter. He was finishing his salad. When his phone beeped, he lifted it and, without answering it or even glancing at the screen, flicked it to silent and continued to eat his lunch. How did he do that? There was no way she would have been able to stop herself at least checking to see who was calling her. Such discipline. She shivered as her thoughts drifted and she tried to focus on the tasks at hand.
Maddy raised her eyebrows and nodded toward Green Eyes. Gabe looked around, wondering what was going on. Amber did a silent squee and gave a thumbs-up to Maddy, followed by an anxious look at Green Eyes, but he was looking steadily out the window at the sea.
Amber hummed to herself as she tidied the counter. Most of the lunch customers were beginning to leave—regulars, who she’d known all her life, and she chatted easily with them, catching up on the minutiae of their lives, which were as important to her as her own.
Her stomach flipped as the elderly couple she’d been talking to moved away to reveal Green Eyes, unraveling himself to his full height and walking purposefully towards her. She had to raise her head to meet his gaze. He was unsmiling as he nodded to her and withdrew his wallet.
She smiled. “I hope you enjoyed your lunch.”
“I did, thank you.” His green eyes seemed to caress her. She wondered if they only caressed on a full stomach because when he’d entered the café he’d looked distinctly grumpy.
He plucked out a crisp note and handed it to her. She took it between her fingers and for a brief moment they were both holding on to it. Then she tugged it and he looked momentarily surprised before he released it.
She counted out the change as she took it from the till and counted it out again as she placed it in his hands. They weren’t worker’s hands, no calluses that she could see, but they were large and firm and strong. She sighed and looked up into a frown.
“What? Did I get it wrong?” she asked. It was usually the case when she met a frown.
“No. Nothing wrong. Certainly nothing wrong at all. It’s just… Just that I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
She sucked in a small gasp. Not only was thatnearlyan admission that he was attracted to her, but it was also the longest sentence she’d ever heard him speak. That could only mean one thing—the moment had come. “How do you mean?”
“The way you count out the money.”
“Oh,” she said, her smile fading. She felt as if she were a yoyo, being swept up into a dramatic, intense grasp, only to be let fall again, plummeting to the ground. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m less likely to make a mistake that way. EFTPOS is easier. No counting, you see. No mental arithmetic to trip me up.”
“Ah,” he said. “Well…” He sucked his teeth as if trying to work out how he could delay himself. “I’d best be going.” He turned and began to walk away, which sent a blast of panic shooting through her, against which neither dignity nor self-preservation stood a chance.
She couldn’t take any more U-turns. He’d bought her paintings for goodness’ sake, and evensheknew they weren’t her best work. He liked her—he had to like her, there could be no other explanation for his frequent lunches at the café, for their weird conversations—and she liked him, and it appeared that if she didn’t do something about it, nothing would happen.
“Would you like to have dinner with me one evening?” she shouted at his back. The café went quiet.
He came to an abrupt halt and twisted around. “What?”
She blushed as she felt all eyes on her. She wished he’d come closer so she didn’t have to continue to make a fool of herself. But it seemed there was no moving him.
“Dinner,” she said more loudly. “I wondered if you’d like some.”
She heard a splutter from Maddy and an expletive from Gabe but refused to look their way, in case she lost her nerve.
“I’ve just had lunch,” he said.
“I’m not talking about lunch, I’m asking you to dinner.” She cleared her throat. “Tonight. At my place. Would you like to come to dinner?” Surely he understood now. She couldn’t make it any plainer unless she added what she’d like to do to him after dinner. But even she had her limits to what she said in public.
“No,” he said.
Her mouth fell open in shock; she felt as if she’d been stabbed, gutted, winded. “You said ‘no’?” She swayed and gripped the side of the bench for support.
“Yes, I said ‘no’.”
“Oh.” She tried to smile but her mouth wouldn’t work. She didn’t understand it. Had she really misread all that body language? All those surreptitious glances? All the waves of attraction which had surged between them? “Oh,” she repeated faintly, as she took a few steps back. “Why… why not?” She had to know.
“Because I don’t like eating at the houses of people I don’t know.”
