Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,78

buttered the roll, she was staring at him again.

“Lida tells me you’ve only been back in Annville for a couple of months.”

Arden nodded and washed down her miniscule bite of roll with a swig of iced tea. “Six months actually.”

“You have a shop? Bridal shop?”

“I’m a seamstress,” she explained. “My store’s right down the street. Across from the Allen Theater. I do bridal gowns, special occasion dresses, costumes for the Renaissance Faire. Stuff like that.”

He made an impressed face she didn’t assume was faked. Either he really was impressed, or he was very, very good. “You made the dresses in the window?”

“Yep. That was me.”

“Wow.” Philip chewed his own roll for a moment. “I’m in banking.”

Arden nodded, not sure of what to say. Small talk should be easier than this, especially with a man so smooth. And yet...despite his gorgeous good looks and pleasant personality, she was having a bit of difficulty relating to him. All she could think about was the possibility of being naked in front of him. It made blasé dinner conversation seem a bit purposeless.

The silence must have stretched on too long for his comfort because Philip leaned across the table to say in a low voice, “Lida told me about your husband. I’m sorry.”

She waved her hand to put him at ease. “Don’t be sorry.”

Philip’s handsome mouth frowned ever so slightly. “I know you’re just getting back on your feet, so to speak. I just wanted to let you know, there’s no pressure about tonight.”

Oh, brother. Arden swallowed some more tea while she thought of what to say. His words were kind and nice and still made her feel like an idiot. Like the girl in high school who had to settle for her friend’s younger brother taking her to the Homecoming Dance.

Philip smiled. “Let’s just have a good time, okay?”

She nodded and smiled in return, though hers felt false. “Okay.”

To her surprise, from then on, she did. Philip was adept at weaving the conversation around points that interested both of them and steering it away from subjects that led to awkward silence. He asked her about her job without sounding patronizing, her kids without sounding insincere, her interests without sounding flattering.

Dinner was over before she knew it, and she’d actually eaten. They shared a slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Philip paid the bill, and by the time they were out on the sidewalk again, Arden was even more surprised to recognize she didn’t want the night to end.

“I had a good time,” she said. “I mean, I’m having a great time.”

Did that sound too eager?

Apparently not, because Philip grinned. “Me, too. Want to go someplace else? Or do you need to head home for the babysitter?”

“No. The girls are with my parents for the night.” Shit. That sounded like a come-on.

His eyes flickered, his grin widened a trifle, but he didn’t pounce on the chance to seduce her. “Do you want to go have a drink? Go dancing maybe?”

Arden laughed out loud. “I haven’t been dancing in forever.”

“Then it’s time, don’t you think?” He held out his hand. “C’mon. The Cadillac Grille has dancing, and it’s right down the street. Nothing too upscale, I promise. I think it’s ’80s night.”

She laughed again. “Sold!”

The Cadillac Grille was packed. Arden glimpsed some familiar faces from high school, but they belonged to people she hadn’t spoken to for more than fifteen years. It felt funny to go over and start chatting, so she kept close to Philip.

He took her by the hand to lead her through the crowd, and she didn’t mind. His hand was large, the fingers long, and he engulfed her hand with warmth that didn’t feel threatening at all. It felt nice. When was the last time anyone other than her kids had held her hand?

They found a small table and Philip ordered drinks. Dark beer on draught for him, a wine cooler for her. “I’m a real lightweight,” Arden said over the sound of the music coming from the tiny dance floor. “I’d better only have one.”

Philip nodded. “Sure. Want to dance?”

She wasn’t quite ready to tackle that, but was saved from rejecting him by the arrival of their drinks. She sipped her drink and toyed with her napkin. The music and noise of the crowd made conversation difficult, and Philip didn’t push it. Instead, he tapped his fingers along with the beat.

Being with him had somehow become easier than she’d expected. She risked another look. He was Fine with a capital