Dating and Other Dangers. Natalie Anderson
some of that too—thanks.’ One glass wouldn’t make her legless. And, frankly, she was overheated after that marathon movie and hearing Ethan mutter in French and then spinning her mind by bringing her to gastronomic paradise.
He waited while she sipped. ‘Is it okay?’
It was fabulous—smooth, incredibly drinkable and soothing. She sat back after ordering, her happiness skyrocketing at knowing divine food was coming soon.
‘Feeling better now?’ He looked sly.
‘Much, thanks.’ She sighed. He smiled, and inside so did she—no doubt he thought that if he added sugar and chocolate he’d have her as gooey as he wanted. He was so getting a surprise.
‘Did you have a nice night last night?’ he asked.
Last night? Oh—that’s right. She’d told him she was busy. ‘I was catching up with some friends.’
‘Yeah, you posted a lot of comments last night.’ His smile went evil. ‘You live more than half your life online.’
She took another sip of wine to bring her internal thermostat back down. ‘You’ve been snooping.’
‘It’s not snooping when you put it all out there for anyone to read.’
‘And you’ve been a bit active online yourself,’ she said, finally broaching it.
‘Ah.’ He settled more comfortably in his chair. ‘You’re mad at me for blogging about our dates?’
‘Not mad. Surprised. I didn’t think you liked the whole public angle. I thought you wanted to protect your privacy and all that.’
‘I’m not the one with contrary privacy issues,’ he said pointedly. ‘This whole thing isn’t actually about you and me, Nadia. Did you think we were going to keep it just between us? What would the point of that be?’
‘I’m still not sure what the point of any of this is.’
He chuckled. ‘Well, right now, the point is some damn good food.’
With perfect timing the waiter set the dishes down—both her desserts at once, as she’d requested. She pounced, spooning in the sweet. Her nerves scrunched with sensation. Oh, there had to be so much butter in this, so much fine sugar, and put together with so much skill in the kitchen. Edible ecstasy.
He hadn’t touched his meal, was just watching her reaction. ‘I take it it’s nice?’
‘Nice?’ she mini-screeched. ‘What kind of a word is nice? This is so much better than nice. It’s …’
He waited, smile quirking.
‘It’s indescribable.’ She didn’t have to fake blatant sensual delight at the dessert. It was genuine and impossible to hide. Frankly, she couldn’t get enough of it.
Grinning, he concentrated on his own meal—some meat thing that she really had no interest in. Not when she had the yum stuff.
She gave up on trying to converse—not when she had this to concentrate on. She took a bite from each, alternating while panicking about which one she was going to save for the very last bite. The decision was just about impossible. And she was not softening towards Ethan in any way whatsoever. She was not feeling a ridiculous kind of favour towards him because he’d been clever enough to get them here. She was not actually enjoying their conversation and the challenge he embodied.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked eventually. ‘You’ve gone very quiet.’
Well, she couldn’t talk when she was so busy inhaling all the cream. But now she was a little sugared up her fighting spirit revived. A divine dessert wasn’t going to soften her attitude. ‘I’m composing my write-up of this date for my blog.’
Something flickered on his face and he set down his cutlery and pushed his plate away.
‘What are you going to write about it?’ she asked, sweeter than her pastry. ‘I’m so looking forward to our next date where you “nail” me.’
‘I’m looking forward to that too,’ he answered, utterly unabashed.
‘My choice for the date, though, isn’t it? You wanted to go to the movies for the first.’
‘Okay, so what do you want to do?’ He conceded surprisingly quickly.
‘A day date, I think.’ Safe and out in the open, where lots of people would be around. She didn’t want to drop-kick him out of touch until the very last date, which meant she was going to have to play the first two just right.
‘A day date?’ Ethan sat back so the waiter could clear their plates.
‘Sunday afternoon suit you?’ Nadia asked. The sooner it was all over, the better.
‘Sure.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘I’m really looking forward to spending more time with you. You’re really good company.’
She suppressed a giggle at his not-quite-hidden sarcasm. Instead she lifted her glass and challenged him. ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to try to impress me.’
‘I guess it’s habit.’ He shrugged, but let loose that smile.
‘You always compliment?’
‘Always.’ He gazed intently at her. ‘And you don’t think that’s okay.’
‘It’s not necessarily a bad habit,’ she mused. ‘But it is if you don’t mean what you say.’
‘But I do mean it.’
‘Always?’ She put down her glass and frowned.
‘Sure.’
‘Really? Don’t you sometimes do it because you know it’ll make the other person feel good?’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘It is if it’s not honest.’
‘All right,’ he said softly, and leaned across the table. ‘You want honesty? Here’s some for you—I think you look fantastic in that dress. I think you look really fantastic. I don’t want you to. It would be a lot easier if I didn’t find you attractive, but honestly I think you look.’
‘What?’
‘It’s indescribable,’ he said roughly. ‘Maybe you should feel what you do to me? Can you handle that kind of honesty?’
His hand shot out and grabbed hers, and before she could blink he’d pressed her palm to his chest. Through the cotton she could feel the heat, the fast, rhythmic pounding. Suddenly she could hear it too, thudding in her ears. Her own blood was pumping in time with his. And that wasn’t her body’s only reaction. She breathed more quickly, shallow. And worst of all was the softening—that warm, melting sensation happening in secret deep inside her. The readying for full possession by a body so much bigger and harder than hers.
She stayed frozen for five seconds too long, until awareness of their surroundings slowly returned. She was stretched across a table in a fine French restaurant, gazing into this guy’s gorgeous cinnamon-brown eyes like as if was mesmerised. She was feeling this intense, intimate thing …
Then she remembered her rule.
Don’t be too sexual.
And this was all about the rules. She swallowed, battling to return to the right regime. But every movement was sexual. Everything about him was sexual. He was a complete magnet and he knew it. But she was going to disarm him—be the one piece he couldn’t pull.
‘Oh, you’re good,’ she said, forcing coolness into her voice, sliding her hand out from under his and bringing it back to press her fist hard against her belly beneath the table-edge. ‘You like to have the women want you, don’t you? Maybe that’s