Page 28 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“He said you’re too thin.”
Maryanne shook her head, immediately aware that he was lying. “If he really thought that, you’d have agreed with him.”
“All right, all right,” Nolan muttered, looking severely displeased. “I should’ve known better than to bring a woman to Wong Su’s place. He assumed there was something romantic between us. He said you’d give me many fine sons.”
“How sweet.”
Nolan reacted instantly to her words. He dropped his spoon beside the bowl with a clatter, planted his elbows on the table and glared at her heatedly. “Now don’t go all sentimental on me. There’s nothing between us and there never will be.”
Maryanne promptly saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she mocked.
“Good. Well, now that’s settled, tell me about your week.”
“Tell me about yours,” she countered, unwilling to change the subject to herself quite so easily. “You seemed a whole lot busier than I was.”
“I went to work, came home...”
“...worked some more,” she finished for him. Another plate, heaped high with sizzling hot chicken and crisp vegetables, was brought by Wong Su, who offered Maryanne a grin.
Nolan frowned at his friend and said something in Chinese that caused the older man to laugh outright. When Nolan returned his attention to Maryanne, he was scowling again. “For heaven’s sake, don’t encourage him.”
“What did I do?” To the best of her knowledge she was innocent of any wrongdoing.
Nolan thought it over for a moment. “Never mind, no point in telling you.”
Other steaming dishes arrived—prawns with cashew nuts, then ginger beef and barbecued pork, each accompanied by small bowls of rice until virtually every inch of the small table was covered.
“You were telling me about your week,” Maryanne reminded him, reaching for the dish in the center of the crowded table.
“No, I wasn’t,” Nolan retorted.
With a scornful sigh, Maryanne passed him the chicken. “All right, have it your way.”
“You’re going to needle me to death until you find out what I’m working on in my spare time, aren’t you?”
“Of course not.” If he didn’t want her to know, then fine, she had no intention of asking again. Acting as nonchalant as possible, she helped herself to a thick slice of the pork. She dipped it into a small dish of hot mustard, which proved to be a bit more potent than she’d expected; her eyes started to water.
Mumbling under his breath, Nolan handed her his napkin. “Here.”
“I’m all right.” She wiped the moisture from her eyes and blinked a couple of times before picking up her water glass. Once she’d composed herself, she resumed their previous discussion. “On the contrary, Mr. Adams, whatever project so intensely occupies your time is your own concern.”
“Spoken like a true aristocrat.”
“Obviously you don’t care to share it with me.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a novel,” he said. “There now, are you satisfied?”
“A novel,” she repeated coolly. “Really. And all along, I thought you were taking in typing jobs on the side.”
He glared at her, but the edges of his mouth turned up in a reluctant grin. “I don’t want to talk about the plot, all right? I’m afraid that would water it down.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Damn it all, Annie, would you stop looking at me with those big blue eyes of yours? I already feel guilty as hell without you smiling serenely at me and trying to act so blasé.”
“Guilty about what?”
He expelled his breath sharply. “Listen,” he said in a low voice, leaning toward her. “As much as I hate to admit this, you’re right. It’s none of my business where you work or how many nails you break or how much you’re paid. But damn it all, I’m worried about you.”
