“Oh. My. God.” She looked at him, her eyes wide and filled with delight. Cheesecake? Little lava cakes? Red velvet? Tiramisu? This must be heaven.”
Laughingly, she picked up the plate and covered it with her body. “This one is mine. You’re on your own.”
“Check this out.” With a lame flourish, he whipped a cloth napkin off a tall thermos container. “Chocolate milk. Ice cold.”
“Get out!”
“I know you’d rather choke than wash dessert down with coffee, so I vetoed the hot beverage options and went with a childhood favorite. Did I do good?”
She sat cross-legged on a dining table chair and smiled broadly. “Did you do good? I think I love you,” she said jokingly.
They both froze. Her words hung in the air. He wanted to break out in a happy dance, but the impulse died when her expression veered between shock and horror. Arnie knew he had less than a second to throw her a lifeline.
“Oh, thank god.” He chuckled. “I thought it was just me with the out-of-control emotions.”
Her relief was palpable. He needed to do a better job of reassuring her this wasn’t a lost weekend between strangers.
He poured the chocolate milk into fancy crystal glasses. She fiddled with her hair and avoided his eyes.
“Summer.”
She took the glass but didn’t acknowledge his implied request that she look at him. He took the direct route. It’d be easier in the long run if he didn’t give her wiggle room. He knew from firsthand experience how letting things go could lead to acrimony.
Going with direct and to the point, he spoke in a quietly authoritative tone. “Look at me, Summer.”
She sighed. He studied her while she struggled with her desire to run and hide.
Yes, he admitted with a sigh. He could read her current vibe without any difficulty whatsoever.
Her eyes slowly lifted. She moved slightly, and her robe parted, offering him an alluring view of her glorious breasts.
He needed to get a grip. Shaking himself, he met her gaze and held it as he spoke.
“This isn’t a one-off, and while I’m not entirely sure what you’re thinking, you should know I’m all in where you’re concerned. Okay?”
She nibbled her lip but nodded. Her indecisive agreement was all kinds of cute and reminded him she wasn’t a pushover.
It also meant she didn’t want to get into it right now, and he was okay with that. He had to let her find her way just like he had to find his.
“Sit down and stop hovering.” She patted the table next to her and motioned to the chair. “Plant it, blondie.”
Transferring a second plate of mini desserts to the table, he sat down like a cowboy getting in the saddle and made damn sure he flashed her in the process. A loud snort of laughter told him he succeeded.
Twirling what passed for a utensil in his fingers, he growled, “What idiot decided dessert forks had to be small?”
“I believe it was the Earl of Dessert, but he had exceptionally tiny hands, so the small forks and spoons were all about appearance.”
He gawked at her for a good few seconds, attempting to ascertain how much, if any, of her explanation was rooted in fact. This wasn’t the first time since getting to know her that Arnie suspected he’d met his match as a bullshit artist.
She was using her tiny fork to dig a hole in the lava cake and giggled when a flow of black and white goo escaped.
He sliced the mini cheesecake in half and stuffed one into his mouth. Soft, creamy awesomeness exploded on his tongue. It was good, but he’d had better and said so.
“You haven’t tasted real cheesecake until you experience authentic New York-style cheesecake—done right. I also have a cheesecake guy,” he told her with a wink. “Every New Yorker does. Actually, my guy is a little old Greek lady whose fame got her a mention on a food TV show. She also makes killer pumpkin rolls.”
Her hand shot out, and she sporked the other half of his cheesecake. Jamming it into her mouth, she grinned sheepishly. Then she scooped up a big glob of goo-covered lava cake and offered it to him from her fork.
He leaned in and let her feed him. His dick, which always managed to make its presence known at the oddest times, reacted with a quiver.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Without effort, their dessert interlude unfolded organically from there. He fed her, and she fed him. They did a