For some reason, she found it necessary to say, “Like cholesterol?”
“Among other things.”
Okay, so he’s not talking about food.
But you should. Just to keep things straightforward and make it clear that nothing is going on here, under the surface.
“Do you, um, eat a huge breakfast every morning?” She could hear the nervousness in her voice.
“When I’m home, I do. I like to cook. In fact, I’ve always known my way around the kitchen, ever since I was a kid.”
“Really?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
“A lot of things about me might surprise you, Lindsay.”
He set his menu aside, leaned back in the booth, steepled his hands, and looked at her.
“So,” he said, “what’s up?”
And away we go.
Except…she still wasn’t ready.
So she hedged. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Twenty years last New Year’s.”
Whoa. Nothing like throwing it right out there, she thought, ducking her head to gaze at her menu again so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.
Wait a minute.
This was ridiculous. She wasn’t a teenaged girl anymore. She didn’t have to skirt around the fact that she’d had a, a-thing-with him. Wasn’t that essentially why they were here?
Forcing herself to meet his gaze again, she saw a glint of amusement there and actually found herself relaxing. Just a tad.
“I wasn’t talking about that, specifically,” she allowed herself to say, referring to their one night together.
“No, but you were thinking about it…right?”
He leaned forward abruptly, and she found herself with a close-up view of the face-the eyes-she had tried so hard to forget.
No wonder she couldn’t.
She was mesmerized all over again.
“I’ve thought about it a couple of times, too,” he told her.
“You mean…about that New Year’s Eve?”
“Yeah. Come on, you didn’t forget…did you?”
You have no idea.
She shrugged.
“You couldn’t have,” he said simply, leaning back again, folding his arms. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here now. Right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You looked me up. It must have something to do with the past…unless you’re looking for a Lamborghini.”
“What?”
He frowned slightly. “Cars,” he said inexplicably.
“You lost me.”
“That’s what I do. Exotic luxury cars.”
“Oh!” She hesitated, wondering if she should let him think she had invited him here on business.
What? Have you lost it?
What are you going to do, buy a Porsche from him to throw him off the scent?
“I didn’t know that was what you did,” she said, buying time.
He shrugged. “That’s what I do. You?”
“I’m an event planner.”
He nodded as if he already knew that.
Had she told him?
She doubted it-but she seriously couldn’t remember.
Right now, under the heat of his gaze, she seriously couldn’t remember much of anything at all.
Oh, yes she could.
She remembered his lips…his mouth…his hands…his skin against hers; his weight, pressing the hard length of his body against hers, into hers…
He remembered, too. She could see it. He was remembering right now.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Dammit. Why was there always this…thing, this connection, between them?
Always?
Talk about an exaggeration.
There was no always where Wyatt Goddard was concerned. It was more like…
Never.
“Did we decide?” the waitress asked breezily, materializing beside their booth again, shattering the moment.
Thank you, Marissa.
Lindsay ordered toast.
“White, wheat, rye, whole grain, pumpernickel…?”
“Whole grain.”
“Butter, margarine…?”
“Butter.”
“On it, or on the side?”
Oh, for God’s sake, it’s just toast! she wanted to scream, the distraction she had just welcomed now irritating the hell out of her. She wanted to be left alone with Wyatt again.
Truly alone, though.
Not here, in a public coffee shop.
Alone.
She ordered the butter on the side.
Wyatt ordered eggs, toast, bacon, a side of sausage.
“How do you want your eggs?” Marissa began. “Scrambled, over, up, poached-”
“Surprise me,” he cut in, and thrust the menus at her. “On all of it.”
The waitress sent him an amused, knowing smile and left them alone again.
“You might get hard-boiled eggs and pumpernickel toast with margarine,” Lindsay informed him with a grin.
“Sounds good.” He shook his head, reached across the table unexpectedly, and grabbed Lindsay’s hands.
There went her heart again, a ricocheting hockey puck skittering around in her rib cage.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said. “Really, really good.”
He was a flirt. She knew that; had always known.
This was part of his charming routine, she told herself sternly. Once a womanizer, always a womanizer.
“I haven’t seen anyone from back home in years.”
“Actually, neither have I,” she admitted. “Except my parents. But they don’t even live in Oregon anymore.”
“Where are they?”
“Retired. Near Las Vegas. How about yours?”
“They passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
A shadow slid over his face. “So am I.” He squeezed her hands, let go. “But people die, and you move on. That’s life, right?”
He’s trying to be cavalier, she thought, and it isn’t working. Not at all.
“Are you married?” she asked, realizing she didn’t even know, grateful he had let go of her hands. Just in case he was.
Not that anything could possibly come of this if he wasn’t. But still…
“No.”
Her hopes soared ridiculously.
“Divorced?” she asked.
“Nope. You?”
“Nope.”
“So you’re…Are you married?”
She shook her head quickly, trying not to smile. But she felt so damned giddy, realizing he was interested in her status.
“I’m surprised,” he said, and poured a generous amount of creamer into his coffee. “I always pictured you married to a great guy, with a couple of kids.”
Kids.
About to sip her own coffee, she set the cup down again hard, the untouched black liquid sloshing over the edge.
“No,” she said tersely. “Not married to a great guy with a couple of kids.”
“Any particular reason why not?”
She shrugged.
“Let me guess. You’re still waiting for Mr. Right to come along. Right?”
She forced herself to look at him. “Isn’t everyone?”
It was his turn to shrug.
You have to tell him.
Now.
She couldn’t just sit here shooting the breeze with him, flirting, letting him think this might be some kind of casual reunion for old times’ sake.
Or worse, the deliberate sparking of an old flame.
He deserved to know the truth before this went any further.
I just wish I didn’t want so badly for it to go further.
Wyatt insisted on picking up the check Marissa had dropped on the table. Lindsay argued, but she let him.
She didn’t argue, however, when he suggested that they take a walk through the park. He had a feeling that wasn’t just because she wanted to delay getting to the office or because it was a beautiful May morning.
Something was weighing on her mind.
Something she hadn’t been able to articulate back in the coffee shop.
A couple of times, he got the feeling that she was about to say something significant.
Other times, he sensed that she was tempted to bolt.
He was glad she hadn’t.
Seeing her again, he felt almost as if there had been a real and enduring relationship between them in the past, something more than a one-night stand.
Of course, there hadn’t been.