Sophie eyed her plate. “This looks amazing. Although I’m kind of regretting not getting the garlic sauce now, and Phyll be damned.”
“Next time.”
Sophie ate tidily but with gusto, wiping her mouth after every few bites. Guess she was the fastidious type. For a second, Tarryn’s mind sprang into overdrive. Was Sophie the careful type in other ways? Did she not like getting messy, sweaty, or dirty? She hadn’t been fazed by the dust and muddle at Tarryn’s place this morning, or by Elly-paca nibbling her hair. And now Sophie was licking the salt from her fingers. It was the most sensual thing Tarryn had seen in a while. Sophie’s pink lips closing around her finger and sucking, then repeating the gesture with every other finger in turn. She finished with a swipe of her tongue over her index finger.
Tarryn’s burger had been suspended between her mouth and the plate for the last few moments. She set it down with care, but the beetroot fell out anyway, landing on her shirt. Thank goodness Sophie didn’t appear to have noticed her sudden fixation with her lips and tongue and fingers and… Tarryn’s mind fizzed to white. When had she been obsessed withanythingSophie did, anyway?
“That’s going to stain.” Sophie pointed at the piece of beetroot still resting on Tarryn’s chest, bleeding pink into her pale-yellow T-shirt.
She flicked it off. “I am a pro at beetroot stains. This isn’t the first time. I’ll soak it when I get home.” Even if it meant she was now sitting there like a messy toddler. She should just tip her bowl of chips over her head and be done with it. Wasn’t that what most two-year-olds did?
“At least put soda water on it,” Sophie said.
Tarryn shrugged. “Then I’ll be sitting here in a wet T-shirt, and it’s not that kind of bar.”
Sophie’s gaze dropped from Tarryn’s face in a leisurely perusal from her throat to her breasts.
Tarryn’s breath caught in her throat. Sophie was honest-to-God checking out her breasts. But then Sophie said, “There’s still a bit of beetroot on the left side. I’d flick it off for you, but that would be harassment given where it is.”
Oh!Heat crawled up Tarryn’s neck, and not for the first time she gave thanks her olive skin made her embarrassment less obvious. She squinted at her chest and removed the beetroot. “Thanks.” An imp of mischief made her add, “But it wouldn’t have been harassment if you’d done it.”
Sophie tilted her head. “Wouldn’t it? I’m sort of your boss. Even in a social setting, there are boundaries. I’ve just finished a work meeting. That’s the sort of thing that gets HR departments in a tizzy, when—”
She’d heard enough of Sophie talking like a corporate drone, rabbiting on about bosses and workers as if Tarryn had no autonomy, no freedom. Sophie wasn’t her boss, not really, and, like it or not, they were having drinks and dinner together— not as boss and employee but as two people who sort of got along together, and maybe, just maybe, were sort of attracted to each other.
Maybe.
And maybe it was time she found out for sure.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against Sophie’s, stopping the flow of words that came straight from an employee handbook, with her lips. Her mouth rested on Sophie’s, and the heat and the softness of Sophie’s lips made her head spin with their perfection, how well they fit with hers.
How much she wanted to deepen the kiss, take it further, and, yes, be glad Sophie hadn’t had garlic sauce with her burger.
Sophie’s lips parted slightly. Maybe it was a soundlessoh!Of surprise? Or maybe it was an invitation, or maybe it was a gasp of annoyance.
Reason thumped into Tarryn’s brain like a brick through a window. Kissing Sophie—even this half, not-quite-completed kiss—was not one of her better ideas. It was right up there with skinny dipping with her best male friend in high school who turned out to be not so immune to her as she—or he—had thought. She should pull back, make a joke about it, get out of this situation with some grace and a modicum of dignity. It had got her out of the sticky situation with her high-school mate back then, and maybe it would work now.
The trouble was, she didn’t want to pull back, and couldn’t think of a joke to save her life. Nothing to make this anything other than it was, which was a kiss she had initiated because, yes, she wanted to stop Sophie sounding so stuffy and corporate, but mainly because she’d wanted to know what her lips tasted like.
Tarryn’s breath puffed on those lips now. And Sophie was still immobile. Was she stunned by the move? Was she in brain freeze? Was she frozen with something else, some mental fog that stopped her from pushing Tarryn away with a firm “no” even though that was what she wanted to do?
Tarryn wouldn’t go where she wasn’t wanted. If she’d read Sophie’s mixed signals wrong, then the only thing left to do was apologise.
Another heartbeat.
Tarryn eased back, lifting her lips gently from Sophie’s mouth, and sat back on her stool, her gaze searching Sophie’s face for a hint of reaction.
Sophie swallowed. “That was…” Her words ended in a dried-up husk of breath. “That was unexpected.”
Unexpected wasn’t necessarily unwelcome. Or was it?
“Should I apologise?”
Sophie lifted a shoulder. “There’s no need. But maybe you shouldn’t do it again.”
“Maybe?” She was pushing it. The drumbeat of her pulse jumping and juddering told her this was a risky move. “Or not in a public place? Or not while we’re working together?” She licked her lips and saw Sophie’s gaze follow the movement. “Or not at all?”
Sophie slid from the stool. “We’re working together, Tarryn. This isn’t a problem, though, unless we make it one.”
