Page 54 of Must Have Been Love

“And then what?”

“Then you’ll be full.”

“I mean, then what. For this.” She points at me and then herself. “What are you expecting?”

I frown at the insinuation. “What makes you think I’m expecting anything?”

“Because you’re you. And I’m me. And I really don’t think this is going to work.”

This again.I put my fork down and take a deep breath.

“Why do you think I’m here?” I ask her.

“Because you want to have sex with me to get me out of your system.”

At least her answer is honest. “You think that little of me?” I murmur.

“No. I just think…” She shakes her head, a frown pulling at her brows. “Don’t youwantto have sex with me?”

I start to laugh. “There’s no right answer to that question. Either I do and you’re disgusted because I’m only after one thing, or I don’t and you’re insulted. So I’m not going to answer. And that’s still not the reason I’m here.”

“Then why?”

It hits me like a damn fist in my chest. This isn’t about me. It’s about her. About her insecurities. Beneath that chilled out, sexy armor she wears there’s something softer. More wary.

“Because I want to have dinner with you. I find you interesting. Funny. You make me smile and you’re nice to my kid.”

“She’s easy to be nice to.”

“I still like it.” I spear another shrimp. “Now can we enjoy this food? That’s the reason I’m here, alright? To eat. To talk. To enjoy each other’s company?”

Her lips part as she stares right at me. My gaze locks with hers as I stare back. I have nothing to hide, not with her. I’m being completely honest.

If all that happens tonight is we eat and talk, I’m weirdly okay with that. Yes, I want to kiss her. I want all of her. I want that more than I want to breathe right now. But that’s up to her.

For the first time in my life I feel like I’m okay with somebody else making the decision.

She takes a bite of the shrimp. I watch as her eyes widen and she lets out a groan. Then she swallows it down and smiles at me. “Oh, my God,” she mouths.

“Good, huh?”

“It’s like an orgasm in shellfish form.” She takes another bite. “How does it taste so good?”

“Martin is an excellent chef.”

“Is he single?” she says, still smiling at me.

“No,” I lie. “Very much taken.”

“Do you cook?” she asks.

“I’ve been known to make toast.” Another lie. I know how to cook. I have a kid, she doesn’t starve. Yeah, it’s basic but thankfully Ayda’s tastes are basic too. We like chicken and fish and noodles and potatoes. It’s amazing how many combinations of those things you can create.

“I’m not a great cook,” she says. “You should probably know that about me.”

“I think I can live with that,” I say. “What do you like doing?”

That smile is still playing on her lips. I’m stupidly entranced by them. Especially the stud in the corner. I flicked it with my tongue more than once when we kissed.

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