"I'm not.” His fingers moved from her hair to her neck, his fingertips grazing her skin oh-so-softly. Yet even that slightest of caresses had little shocks of excitement trembling across her body. “I'm just trying to decide the best way to phrase it."
"Just give me an honest answer, however crazy sounding, and I'll be happy.” And she'd be even happier if he just took her in his arms and ravished the rest of her. Impractical, given the situation, but then, desire didn't always strike at convenient times.
"I cut my hair because you loved it, and I wanted to rid myself of everything that reminded me of you."
"A very female reaction, I must say."
"I got drunk first. Then I smashed up my house."
"Ah. Well, that makes all the difference.” She glanced at him. “You know, you could have saved us both a lot of heartache if you'd only mentioned the fact that you liked me—maybe even cared for me—sometime during our time together at Rosehall."
"Not on a job. Not until I know there's going to be a decent outcome.” He glanced at her. “That hasn't changed, you know."
"So, you're willing to admit that you cared for me then, but you're not willing to admit you care for me now, because the outcome of the current mission is unclear?"
"Basically, yes."
She grinned. “Which is essentially an admission anyway."
His gaze met hers. “Yes."
"I do so love a man who expresses his emotions."
He smiled. “It's far too early in the game for expression, Savannah."
"Be still my heart—he remembered my name."
"Has anyone ever suggested that you have bitchy tendencies?"
"Many times.” Her grin widened as she pulled into a parking space a few doors down from the diner. Her dad's car wasn't there yet, and she frowned, glancing at her watch. It was barely eight, and while the diner did open later on a Friday, her dad was usually here, puttering around and getting things ready. She was just about to contact Neva when she vaguely remembered him saying something about getting the brakes checked early because Mom had a crack-of-dawn hairdresser appointment.
Cade pulled his hand away from her neck. “Why are we stopping here?"
"My dad's diner is just ahead and I need to talk to him."
"It's closed."
"Yeah. But he'll be here soon, and in the meantime, we can help ourselves to coffee and breakfast.” She glanced at the apartment above the diner, just to make sure no one was home. The lights definitely weren't on, which meant her mom had gone out. She couldn't be sad about that. The last thing she needed right now was a motherly third degree about Cade, especially when Cade was present.
"I like the sound of breakfast and coffee,” he murmured. But the wicked gleam in his dark eyes suggested he had something other than breakfast in mind.
Excitement trembled through her, and for an instant she felt like that giddy teenager again, unable to wait for the touch of a newfound love. But it wasn't practical. Not here, anyway. “There's no fooling around in this diner."
"Vannah, you're nearly thirty. I think your dad knows you're not—"
"My dad is Levon Grant, remember.” She climbed out of the car and headed towards the diner.
"Ah, yes.” He slammed his door closed and hobbled along behind her. “The man behind the ridiculous no-sex-before-marriage push."
"He thinks it'll make us all better people."
"The only thing it'll make us is frustrated. The moon's effects on us werewolves will never go away, no matter how much he might will it."
She flashed him a grin, but it faded when she saw how badly he was limping. Her gaze skated down his leg. Blood was beginning to spot his jeans. “You've opened the wound up again."
"Yeah.” He shrugged. “It's nothing much."
"I have a feeling you could be bleeding buckets and you'd say the same thing.” Exasperation filled her voice as she found the key and opened the diner's door. “Why don't you go park at a table while I get the medical kit? And no arguments,” she added, the minute he opened his mouth.