She placed the spoon between her lips, closed her eyes and savored the flavor. “Mmm.”
Just like the cotton candy at Playland, Mike thought “Do you make eating food an erotic experience on purpose?” he asked. “Or does it just come naturally?”
A rosy blush colored her cheeks. “For a minute I forgot I wasn’t alone.” Clearly embarrassed, she pushed the plate toward the center of the table.
He nudged it back. “Don’t mind me, I enjoy watching.” He adored her feminine curves and ability to enjoy life without censoring it, calories included.
She shrugged and dug the spoon back into the caramel for another bite.
“How’s the column coming?”
“Not bad. I finished next month’s questions and answers and faxed them over to the magazine.”
“What about the book?”
“Format’s done.” She paused for a sip of water. “Three distinct segments should work.”
“What are the topics?” He leaned back in his chair and eyed her intently.
“You’re really interested?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She bit down on her lower lip. “You could be just being polite.”
Beneath the table, he clenched his hands into tight fists. “I don’t do polite. Not for the hell of it anyway.”
She nodded. Blond strands of hair fell free from her loose braid and framed her face before she tucked them behind one ear. “I knew that.”
Did she? He silently cursed his brother’s reappearance since it had obviously brought back insecurities he thought she had let go. “But maybe I was just humoring you.”
“Were you?”
This time he cursed aloud. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t humor any more than I do polite. It’s condescending to us both.”
Her gaze dropped to her plate. The ice cream, he noticed, had begun to melt. “If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t have asked,” he said in a harsh voice meant to capture her attention.
It did. Her eyelids fluttered upward, and startled, her gaze met his. “Fine,” she said in just as clipped a tone as he’d used on her.
At least she was on the offensive, he thought. “And while we’re at it, I’d appreciate it if you’d remember one thing: I’m not Peter. I don’t act like him and I sure as hell don’t think like him.” His hand came down hard on the table, causing the water in both their glasses to slosh over the top.
She grinned. “Personally, I agree with you. And believe it or not, I appreciate the reminder.”
He let out a deep breath. The strain of this meal had begun to wear on him. Every possible emotion had passed between them and he was exhausted. He signaled for the check.
“Just one more bite.” Taking advantage of her last spoonful, Mike watched as she licked the utensil clean, running her tongue over the sticky caramel coating to remove every remaining bit.
Desire hit him hard. His exhaustion disappeared in the wake of physical need. As he shamelessly followed every movement, he wondered if he was destined to be in her spell forever. Every damn thing she made him feel was good. Even when there was trouble hovering between them, she made him feel alive. But so did taking pictures and capturing the world on film. At least it always had before. Why was the thought so much less appealing now? Mike sensed the answer had less to do with the painful episode in the Middle East and more to do with Carly.
Get out, he thought.
While he still could.
He forced his gaze upward. Her beautiful brown eyes shimmered with amusement. “Want some?” she asked and dipped the spoon back into the half-melted ice cream.
He opened his mouth to answer and she hand-fed him the dessert. He wasn’t sure if the sweetness came from the gooey dish or the woman who gave it to him. “Incredible,” he said. His gaze locked with hers.
Reaching over, she wiped what must have been a trace of ice cream or caramel from his bottom lip. Her gentle touch finished him off.
He tossed his napkin down onto the table. “Let’s go.” With a glance at the check the waiter had placed on the edge of the table, he shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. He peeled off the bills and tossed them down.
The moment he stood, he was grateful for the dark lighting. His jeans were way too tight. Grasping her hand, he tugged and led her out of the restaurant and into the dark night.
The car was parked behind the restaurant, and thanks to the late hour that area of the parking lot had all but emptied out. Mike didn’t know how it happened. One minute he’d been leading her toward the car, the next he’d bracketed her body between the himself and the metal door.
Carly gazed up at him, hope and expectancy warring in her heart. She’d been sending out mixed signals all evening, she knew. But she wasn’t mixed up anymore. She wanted him for the time they had left. She licked at her dry lips.
And he wanted her. The hard erection pressed against her told her that.
He reached out and traced her moist lower lip with the pad of his finger. With his gaze never leaving hers, he placed his finger in his own mouth. “Sweet,” he whispered.
“It’s the caramel.” She gripped his waist with both hands. He was her anchor in so many different ways.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s you. You always taste sweet to me.”
A strange sensation gripped her chest. More emotional than physical, tears threatened to fall but she pushed them back. “You don’t do polite and you don’t humor me, but I do think you’re just saying that so you can get lucky.”
“Did it work?” Something about the hesitancy in his voice spoke to her. They’d been dancing around each other all night and for what? They understood each other too well, knew each other’s deepest fears.
They knew the end was coming.
“It would have worked without the sweet talk,” she murmured, grasping his face in both hands.
The kiss that came next was anything but sweet; in fact, hot was the only word that came to Carly’s mind before she became so engulfed with Mike that she didn’t want to think at all. She locked her leg around his ankle, securing him against her. The ridge of his arousal was firm and hard against her stomach and his warm breath fanned her neck as he trailed wet, seductive kisses down her collarbone. Cool air drifted over her damp skin, increasing the power of her desire.
He dipped the strap of her dress down over one shoulder and edged a fingertip above the swell of her breast. She exhaled, but a slow moan escaped instead. She anticipated his hot mouth on her breast, wanted his heated touch more than she wanted her next breath. And if the glazed but intense look in his eyes was any indication, she’d have it too. Carly closed her eyes, waiting, wanting...