“I know all of the obvious things—you’re beautiful, French, and a pilot instructor that stubbornly insists she do her job even if itisredundant and unnecessary, which I’m not saying it is.”
Sloane let out a genuine laugh. Oh, how right he was. “You already knew those things before dinner.”
“I knew more than that,” he said. “I knew you could throw an axe like a man and smoke a cigar like a yellow-bearded sailor.”
“Just a few of my many talents,” she said with a sigh.
“But now…” Emmitt started, leaning his elbows onto the table and squaring a look at her. Man, those eyes were dangerous. Warm, dark, and brimming with mischief.
“NowI know that you like to cut your food into small bites—basically everything on your plate—and then you like to stack it onto your fork, using your knife as a guide, so you can eat a little of everything with each bite.”
She grinned. “Yes, that is pretty much how I eat.”
“I like it. It’s cute,” he said. “I just sort of start with my favorite thing, shovel that in, and keep moving until I’m done.”
“You do not shovel it in,” Sloane corrected while reaching for her glass. “I have seen men who do that. You go slow, tasting your food. Appreciating it. I like that.”
He grinned and straightened up. “I like how you eat. You like how I eat. I’d say we’re three steps away from the altar.”
His comment made her choke on her last sip of wine. Sloane’s hand went to her chest as she coughed. She hadnotexpected him to say something like that. “Like marriage? How do you figure? And just what are those three steps?”
“From what I understand, couples do a lot of griping about how the other eats.We’vealready passed that hurdle. So the next three steps are this.” He held up a finger. “One, we admit that we like spending time together—that step should be accompanied with holding hands, I think.”
A ribbon of warmth swirled around her heart. “Sounds right,” she said with a nod, curious to hear the others.
“Two, we admit that welikeeach other.”
“Like? Not love?”
“Like has to come before love or it won’t work.”
She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Gotcha.”
“There shoulddefinitelybe a kiss at that point,” he added.
“Even if it is justlike?” Sloane asked. “Friends do not kiss friends, no?”
Emmitt tipped his head as he considered, his eyes growing distant for a blink before refocusing on her. “Well, the truth is, when a couple admits they like one another, they’re really saying they’re starting to fall for them. It’s more of alikelike, you know?”
“Oh, well when you put it that way, of course I know. In all the movies they talk of the wholelikelike thing.”
“Right. And three,” he said, extending a third finger, “we admit that weloveeach other. Or that we’reinlove. Either will do.”
Sloane grinned. “Voilà?”
Emmitt lifted one dark brow. “Voilà.”
“And what happens at that point? There was hand-holding, kissing, and then…”
“Oh,” Emmitt said, “I’m glad you asked. We save that last step for the most intimate act of all.”
Sloane felt her face flush with heat. It was probably coming from the fire that had suddenly flared to life in her chest at his words.
“Eskimo kisses,” he said.
Sloane tipped her head in confusion. “Excusez-moi?”
“That’s the most intimate act of all I was referring to. You know, rubbing noses like Eskimos to warm each other up.”
