before she flung money on the table, grabbed his hand, and made a run for it back to the hotel.
“Perhaps if you dated real women rather than model types who exist on lettuce leaves, you’d find my appetite normal?”
“How do you know I date model types?”
She snorted. “Have a look at you. You look like you’ve stepped out of a magazine for hot doctors. Of course you’d date equally beautiful women.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure whether to thank you for the compliment or berate you for making me sound shallow.”
“We all value appearances, and pretty people tend to stick with other pretty people.”
“Once again, I’m glad you’ve noticed this magnificent facade”—he gestured at his face, his smile wide—“but I’m not sure where the prejudgment is coming from when you don’t really know me.”
She knew enough. She knew he was chivalrous and kind in coming to her rescue when he didn’t have to. She knew he was a hard worker who took orders and executed them to the best of his abilities, even when he didn’t have expertise in food styling. She knew he had a killer sense of humor and could laugh at himself; he hadn’t brought up the whipped cream incident, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. And she knew all these things combined to make her like him more than was good for her.
For the first time in over a year, she wanted to say screw her man ban and just screw him.
“Eat your kofta,” she muttered, not surprised he didn’t understand where her snark was coming from. She may have gotten over Colin a long time ago, but the reason he’d dumped her still rankled. Because every morning when she looked in the mirror, her face devoid of makeup, and she saw the white patches blotching her skin, it reinforced how everyone valued appearances. Would any man want her enough to see past it?
Sensing her distress, he kept silent. Another brownie point in his favor, knowing when to turn off the charm. Damn him for reeling her in with his many attributes.
When they’d demolished the koftas and the dahl she’d insisted they order, he sat back and patted his stomach, drawing her attention to it. His shirt wasn’t fitted so she couldn’t see the definition, but she bet it was as perfect as the rest of him.
“I’m so full,” he said, with a little groan. “And I have to say, those koftas were almost as good as my gran’s.”
“I’m stuffed too. So no dessert?”
“I didn’t say that.” His eyes twinkled as he held up his hand, fingers spread. “Give me five minutes. Besides, haven’t you heard we have two stomachs, one especially designed for dessert?”
“Remind me never to get treated at your ER,” she deadpanned, and he laughed.
“Are you questioning my medical expertise?”
“Hey, if you believe that two-stomach thing, do you blame me?”
“It’s nice to see you smile again.”
Before she could move, he reached across the table and swiped his thumb across her bottom lip.
She let out a soft sigh, and he lingered for a moment before removing his hand.
“You had a naan crumb,” he murmured, uncharacteristic embarrassment making his glance slide away.
“Or you couldn’t resist touching my mouth,” she said, her bluntness surprising him when his gaze locked on hers.
“That too.”
Harper had no idea how long they stared at each other, oblivious to the clanking of dishes coming from the kitchen, the chatter of fellow patrons, and the soft sitar music piping through the restaurant.
But when he asked, “Shall we head back to the hotel?” it seemed the most natural thing in the world to nod and place her hand in his.
18
Manny didn’t have time for romance. Hell, he barely had time to date. So to find himself strolling Auckland’s streets hand in hand with a beautiful woman who captivated him more with every passing moment had a distinct surrealism.
“Is this your first time in Auckland?”
“Yes. I’ve been booked in twice before for conferences here, but they ended up being transferred to Christchurch on the South Island. It wouldn’t matter if I had been though, as the conferences are so full-on it means I see nothing of the city beyond the hotels I stay at unless I tack on a few vacation days at the end, which I like to do on occasion.”
“Do you attend many conferences?”
“About three a year. The hospital values professional development as much as I do, so I squeeze them in when I can. What about you?”
He