Longing filled Rafe. For years he’d satisfied himself with one-night stands, but she made him yearn for the connection he’d had only once before. With her he wasn’t Chef Rafe. She didn’t treat him like a boss. She didn’t talk to him like a boss...
Maybe because she had these feelings, too?
He sucked in a breath, met her gaze. “Tell me more.”
“About my life?”
“About anything.”
* * *
She set down her wineglass as little pinpricks of awareness sprung up on her arms.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed for his apology until he’d made it. But now that he was asking to hear about her life, everything inside her stilled. How much to tell? How much to hold back? Why did he want to know? And why did she ache to tell him?
He offered his hand again and she glanced into his face. The lines and planes of his chin and cheeks made him classically handsome. His sexy unbound hair brought out urges in her she hadn’t ever felt. She’d love to run her fingers through it while kissing him. Love to know what it would feel like to have his hair tumble to his face while they made love.
She stopped her thoughts. She had an almost fiancé at home, and Rafe wasn’t the most sympathetic man in the world. He was bold and gruff, and he accepted no less than total honesty.
But maybe that’s what appealed to her? She didn’t want sympathy. She just wanted to talk to someone. To really be heard. To be understood.
“I had a good childhood,” he said, breaking the awkward silence, again nudging his hand toward her.
She didn’t take his hand, so he used it to inch her wine closer. She picked it up again.
“Even as a boy, I was fascinated by cooking.”
She laughed, wondering why the hell she was tempting fate by sitting here with him when she should leave. She might not be engaged but she was close enough. And though she’d love to kiss Rafe, to run her fingers through that wild hair, Paul was stability. And she needed stability.
“My parents were initially put off, but because I also played soccer and roughhoused with my younger brother, they weren’t worried.”
She laughed again. He’d stopped trying to take her hand. And he really did seem to want to talk. “You make your childhood sound wonderful.”
He winced. “Not intentionally.”
“You don’t have to worry about offending me. I don’t get jealous of others’ good lives. Once Rosa took me in, I had a good life.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“She was brave.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Let’s just say I had a wild streak.”
Looking at his hair, which curled haphazardly and made his gray eyes appear shiny and mysterious, Dani didn’t doubt he had lots of women who’d helped his wild streak along.
Still, she ignored the potential to tease, to flirt, and said, “Rosa really was brave. I wasn’t so much of a handful because I got into trouble, but because I was lost.”
“You seem a little lost now, too.”
Drat. She hadn’t told him any of this for sympathy. She was just trying to keep the conversation innocent. “Seriously. You’re not going to feel sorry for me, are you?”
“Not even a little bit. If you’re lost now, it’s your own doing. Something you need to fix yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I believe!”
He toasted. “To us. Two just slightly off-kilter people who make our own way.”
She clinked her glass to his before taking another sip of wine. They finished their drinks in silence, which began to feel uncomfortable. If she were free, she probably would be flirting right now. But she wasn’t.
Grabbing her jacket and purse, she rose from her seat. “I guess I should get going.”
He rose, too. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs. The vision of a good-night kiss formed in her brain. The knowledge that she’d be a cheat almost choked her. “There’s no reason.”
“I know. I know. It’s a very peaceful little town. No reason to worry.” He smiled. “Still, I’ve never let a woman walk to her car alone after dark.”
Because that made sense, she said, “Okay.” Side by side they ambled up the sidewalk to the old, battered green car Louisa had lent her.
When they reached it, she turned to him with a smile. “Thank you for listening to me. I actually feel better.”
“Thank you for talking to me. Though I don’t mind a little turmoil in the restaurant, I don’t want real trouble.”
She smiled up at him, caught the gaze of his pretty gray eyes, and felt a connection that warmed her. She didn’t often tell anyone the story of her life, but he had really listened. Genuinely cared.
“So you’re saying yelling is your way of creating the kind of chaos you want?”
“You make me sound like a control freak.”
“You are.”
He laughed. “I know.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes long enough for Dani’s heart to begin to thrum. Knowing they were now crossing a line, she tried to pull away, but couldn’t. Just when she was about to give one last shot at breaking their contact, he bent his head and kissed her.
Heat swooshed through her on a wave of surprise. Her hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength of him, and met at the back of his neck, where rich, thick hair tickled her knuckles. When he coaxed open her mouth, the taste of wine greeted her, along with a thrill so strong it spiraled through her like a tornado. The urge to press herself against him trembled through her. She’d never felt anything so powerful, so wanton. She stepped closer, enjoying sensations so intense they stole her breath.
His hands trailed from her shoulders, down her back to her bottom and that’s when everything became real. What was she doing kissing someone when she had a marriage proposal waiting for her in New York?
NOTHING IN RAFE’S life had prepared him for the feeling of his lips against Dani’s. He told himself it was absurd for an experienced man to think one kiss different from another, but even as that thought floated to him, her lips moved, shifted, and need burst through him. She wasn’t a weak woman, his Dani. She was strong, vital, and she kissed like a woman starving for the touch of a man. The kind of touch he longed to give her. And the affair was back on the table.
Suddenly, Dani jumped back, away from him. “You can’t kiss me.”
The wildness in her eyes mirrored the roar of need careening through him. The dew of her mouth was sprinkled on his lips. His heart pounded out an unexpected tattoo, and desire spilled through his blood.
He smiled, crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the old car. “I think I just did.”
“The point is you shouldn’t kiss me.”
“Because we work together?” He glanced to the right. “Bah! You Americans and your puritanical rules.”
“Oh, you hate rules? What about commitments? I’m engaged!”
That stopped the need tumbling