“Glad to hear I don't force you to drown your sorrows in chocolate.” Geez, she really needed to get rid of half the stuff in this freezer. Items were packed in like bees in a beehive. “You're not one of those lightweights who only eats milk chocolate, are you?”
“I am not.”
She straightened, holding a container of Rocky Road. “This is very chocolatey. It is not for chocolate novices.”
“Good, because I'm not one.”
She scooped ice cream into two dishes.
“I typically put more time between dinner and dessert,” he noted.
“Very moderate of you.” She handed him his ice cream. “Willing to live a little with me?”
“Yes. Willing.”
They remained standing in her kitchen as they dug into their ice cream. Gemma was not the type to indulge in guilt regarding the enjoyment of dessert. For two reasons. One, she loved her body exactly as it was. Some men preferred skinny women and Gemma had no difficulty recognizing those types. Men who valued the curves she took pride in were the ones who became boyfriends. Two, it was Gemma's nature to enjoy things worthy of enjoyment. Tastes, smells, sights, textures, experiences.
Rocky Road ice cream was definitely worthy of enjoyment. She delighted in its cold, rich flavor and nutty, marshmallowy consistency. She could tell Jude was doing the same, which gave them a point of connection. “Since Jude McConnell and I met when Chaz and I met, I vote we model our fake relationship after my relationship with Chaz.”
“How so?”
“We travel to see each other every six weeks or so. We talk a few times a week. We text daily.”
He looked unimpressed. “Wouldn’t I want to see you more than once every six weeks?”
“You live in New York, and I live here.”
“Right, but if I’m really into you, I’d miss you. I’d make more of an effort.”
“Nah. We’re independent and busy doing our own things. Plus, it’s expensive to travel.”
“I have money.”
“But you don’t have Jude Camden money. People with Jude McConnell money don’t flush it down the drain traveling.”
He hesitated, then gave a nod. “All right. We see each other every six weeks, talk a few times a week, text daily.”
This ice cream was divine. If it wasn’t socially unacceptable to moan, she would have moaned. “At our last meeting, I expressed concern that Cedric would recognize that you're not the type of guy I usually date. But I now think that might be okay so long as we act as if we find each other's differences endearing. You're self-controlled.” She pointed at him, then at herself. “I act like I find that endearing. I'm outgoing and spontaneous.” She pointed at him. “You act like you find that endearing. If Cedric comments on the fact that we're dating off-type, I'll say that it’s an opposites-attract kind of thing. What do you think?”
“I like that better than having to wear a turtleneck.”
“So even though you're not into me in real life, you think you can sell Cedric on the idea that you find me endearing?”
He held her gaze a beat longer than normal. “I can. I'm trained at undercover work, remember.”
“So how come I feel like I'm the better actor here?”
His lips did that upward slant again. “Empty conceit?”
She smiledbroadly. Banter was her love language.
For a few seconds, he appeared to go into a mini trance. Then seemed to snap out of it and set his empty bowl aside. “I should go.”
“'Kay.”
Silence. A subtle charge hummed in the air between them.
“We're going to need to spend,” he said, “a lot more time talking through your backstory and mine.”
