Mind blank, shestared at him. She had not thought that far. How could she notthink that far? “It’s lovely weather we’re having,” she said, anddared him to comment on such an inane attempt.
“Yes, lovely weather.” Barking a laugh, the corner of hismouth kicked up further. “Surely we can do better than theweather?”
“Very well.” While she was still marvelling she’d somehowwrangled a laugh out of him, she cast about for something to say.“Why did you choose the flavour you did?”
“Because I like it.”
She frowned.“That is not very descriptive.”
“No,” he said, and did not continue.
Breath explodingin a huff, she said crossly, “You are very vexing.”
Again, thatslight smile. “I know.”
The sight ofthat oh-so-slight smile did not cause her heart to race. Itdidn’t. “Let us try this again. What flavour did you choose?Why do you like it? If you couldn’t choose that one, what would beyour second choice?”
“Lemon basil. Because it tastes tart and fresh. Most likelypistachio.”
“Ichose strawberry and rhubarb.”
Staring at her,he rubbed his finger over his bottom lip. “And why did you choosestrawberry and rhubarb?”
She smiledsweetly. “Because I like it.”
Helaughed.
She sat back,absurdly pleased she’d made him laugh. Twice.
In a bustle ofactivity, their ices were placed before them. The sweet aroma ofstrawberries teasing her nose, and her mouth watered inanticipation.
Opposite her,Stephen lifted a spoon laden with ice, opening his mouth justenough to allow it to enter. Full lips closed delicately around themetal, his eyes fluttering as he absorbed the taste. The fabric ofhis gloves stretched his knuckles, long fingers cradling thedelicate spoon in his large hand. His throat moved as he swallowed,his tongue darting out to caress the last of the ice from thespoon.
She made asound.
He pausedmid-lick. “I beg your pardon?”
Her head feltthick, and a fierce pulse pounded deep within her.“What?”
“Youmade a noise.”
“I—Nothing.” Hastily, she lowered her gaze to her own ice, her heartracing. Good God. How could he make the eating of an ice so…sosensual?
“Areyou not enjoying your ice?” He frowned. “You haven’t touchedit.”
“Howgoes your charity?” she asked, mostly to distract him.
“Good.” Still he frowned. “Thank you for your donation,” headded belatedly.
Regally, sheinclined her head. “You are very welcome.”
“Howdid you organise funds so quickly?” He lifted his spoon again tohis mouth.
Unwilling to beso affected again, she averted her gaze. “I have full control ofthe inheritance my mother left me. Apparently, she believed a womanshould have wealth independent of any man in her life.”
“Ah.” He licked his spoon and she tried, very hard, not tonotice every movement of his tongue. “It must be nice, to have sucheasy access to wealth.”
“Didyou not have an inheritance of your own?”
