‘Since what?’
‘Since I’ve seen a man I’m attracted to. I can’t think straight. I usually know what to say?—’
‘That’s because you say the first thing that comes into your head.’
‘Yeah, well, I’d have been locked up if I’d said the first thing I thought just then.’
‘Ha! I knew it.’ Jen pushed aside a trailing plant and peeped through the glass of the muffin cabinet. ‘He is extremely handsome. Although he looks like he’d agree with me.’
Lucy bobbed down beside her and peeked out too, then groaned again. ‘You’re right on both counts. What is it with me and confident men?’
‘I think you’re confusing confidence with arrogance. And that guy’ — Jen jabbed a finger in his direction — ‘is definitely in the latter category.’
Lucy ground the beans for two coffees. She wasn’t going to contradict her sister, but she knew the difference. Trouble was, she liked men who were both. She should have known better after what she’d been through. She didn’t seem to have much control over who attracted her. What she did control was how much she let them in.
She took two black coffees back to the table. She slid one cup across to him, set the other opposite, and sat down.
He looked up from his phone, placed it face down onto the table and smiled slowly.
‘Hope you don’t mind if I join you?’
He leaned in, matching her move for move. ‘Not at all. You won’t be missed?’
She smiled sweetly. ‘I have staff for that. They’re capable. They can handle everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Maybe not everything. But I’m intrigued.’ She lifted her cup, the pungent steam touching her lips, and held his gaze as she sipped. ‘You said you wanted to get to know me better. That implies you know me already, and yet we haven’t met, have we? I’m sure’ — the slight, flirtatious smile came easily — ‘I would have remembered.’
His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before recovering. If she hadn’t been watching so closely, she might have missed it. But she was watching. She wanted to know everything about this man.
‘I guess I feel like I know you already,’ he said smoothly.
Nicely done, she thought. She’d unsettled him, but he’d recovered well.
‘Sitting across the road,’ he went on, ‘watching you with your customers, you exhibited a certain… theatre — irresistible, by the way — alongside the utmost professionalism. You make sure your punters get what they came for.’
She arched a brow. ‘And what is it they come for, do you suppose?’
‘To imagine that you care, and to eat and drink well.’
‘I do care,’ she said, stung. The idea that her care might be something people only ‘imagined’ hit a raw spot.
His smile deepened. ‘And that’s why you’re so good at your work, Miss Lucy MacLeod.’
Damn. Neat sidestep. ‘You know my name.’
‘It’s on the front door.’
‘Not many people notice.’
‘Maybe not many people are interested. But, you see…’ He sat back, narrowed his eyes, and laced his fingers, thumbs circling, as if he were about to interrogate her. ‘I am.’
If he thought she was going to play the victim, he could think again. She sat back too, taking her time, her gaze never leaving his.
She tilted her head and gave him a polite smile. ‘May I ask why?’ Her voice sounded sweet, innocent. Two things no one had ever accused her of being.
‘Because it’s hard asking someone out to dinner when you don’t know their name. Call me old-fashioned; I prefer to make the invitation personal.’ The way he said ‘personal’ wasn’t subtle. She pretended not to notice.
