“What kind? Loose women?”
Was he really having this conversation in a restaurant? Maybe it was safer than in their room.
“I didn’t actually mean a type. I mean, when we meet the woman who’s right for us—we bond.” Just saying it made his throat constrict and his heart start to thump.
The silence stretched between them as she focused on her risotto for a few moments.
Finally she said, “Are you talking about some kind of mystic connection?”
“I guess I am.”
He didn’t know how he had expected this conversation to go, but when she made a dismissive sound, his reaction was sharp. “When we kissed—you didn’t feel like lightning struck you?”
“No,” she shot back, her expression defiant.
“You’re lying.”