“Oh, my God! I need a glass of water.” She scooted off her chair. “I never thought to ask if you wanted something to drink. I have wine, Cabernet Sauvignon.” It was a date-night staple, or so Mel always claimed. Elizabeth added, “Or some diet cola if you’d prefer.”
“Water’s fine.”
“Tap?”
“With a couple ice cubes if you’ve got ‘em.”
When she returned to the table with their glasses, he was again struggling to pick up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. This one wound up in his lap after leaving a trail of sauce and bits of rice down the front of his shirt. His smile was sheepish, and all the more appealing because of it, as he blotted the fabric with a napkin. “I’m not as good at this as you are, I’m afraid.”
“But you just keep trying.”
“That’s me. Once I set my mind to doing something, I don’t give up easily.”
“I’m the same way. Determined.” She laughed. “Mel calls it being stubborn.”
“I guess we both are, then.”
His smile was warm, yet she had to suppress a shiver. Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“You’re holding them wrong.” She picked up her pair again and demonstrated. Even though Thomas did better this time, his grip was still a little off.
“That’s an improvement, but it’s more like this.” She reached over to adjust the placement of his middle finger between the two sticks. Just that little bit of contact sent a spark of heat zipping up her spine, every bit as potent as the previous evening’s kiss. She snatched her hand back and glanced up to find him watching her. His dark eyes were narrowed and had grown hooded.
Was he recalling that kiss as well?
She was being foolish, she decided, when he made a couple of pinching motions in the air.
“I think I’ve got it,” he declared before attempting to pick up another piece of chicken. This time he brought it to his mouth without incident. He raised his empty chopsticks in triumph afterward.
“Very good,” she said.
“Well, you’re a good teacher.”
She wrinkled her nose at the compliment. “Nah. You’re a smart man from what I’ve observed. You would have figured it out for yourself eventually.”
“Still, you deserve a reward.” He picked up a second piece of chicken and, after making sure it wasn’t going to fall from the chopsticks, offered it to her.
Elizabeth must have lost her mind, because she leaned closer and opened her mouth. All the while, her gaze stayed on Thomas rather than the prize he offered. Even as her lips closed around the chopsticks and heat—both that inspired by the hot peppers in the recipe and that inspired by need—wound through her, she maintained eye contact.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for the sort of woman who enjoyed Kung Pao chicken,” he said slowly. “It’s got a lot of kick, especially from the restaurant I patronize.”
“Hence the sweet and sour pork and chicken stir-fry,” she replied.
His smile was lightning quick and appealing.
“I was hedging my bets with a good assortment.”
“That was very thoughtful, but as it turns out there was no need. I like spice. Lots of it, in fact.” She sipped her water, took her time swallowing. Regardless, the heat not only remained, but also burned even hotter.
That studious look was back on his face. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to you, Elizabeth Morris, than first meets the eye.”
She held his gaze. “The same is true for most people, I think.”
It was definitely true for Thomas. She’d had him pegged as a smooth operator based on his handsome face and admitted commitment-phobia. Add in that kiss and she’d known he was vastly experienced when it came to casual physical relationships, making him exactly the sort of man any woman who valued keeping her heart whole knew to avoid. But that opinion shifted once she figured in his manners and his deep love for his grandmother. Just as she had the night before, Elizabeth found herself marveling at all of his layers and almost wishing they were involved in the sort of relationship that allowed one to delve deeper, explore and, eventually, see more.
“What you’re telling me is you can’t judge a book by its cover,” he said.
“Am I sensing some regrets? Perhaps I’m not the right woman for this … job after all.”
“No. No regrets.” But he was frowning when he said, “I have a feeling you’re perfect.”
THEY talked throughout their meal about the inconsequential things that ultimately helped people get to know one another. Little by little, more of the true Elizabeth Morris emerged. As Thomas already had surmised, there was far more to her than first met the eye. And he wasn’t completely comfortable with the woman now seated across from him.
He’d meant it when he’d said earlier that he had the feeling she was perfect. Not just for the role he wanted her to play, either. She was funny, interesting and smart, definitely. And he knew from that kiss that, under different circumstances, he wouldn’t mind pursuing a more intimate relationship with her. But that would have to wait, assuming she felt the same way. Right now it was business. Even if it also came with a few perks, he decided, as his gaze slid to her mouth. As long as they were on the same page, he might as well as enjoy them.
He rounded up the last morsel of chicken on his plate and grinned in satisfaction when it stayed between his chopsticks. After eating it, he motioned across the room. “Tell me about that picture on your refrigerator door.”
She glanced over. Amusement was apparent in her eyes and her voice when she replied, “The one of Mel and me shrieking like a pair of loons?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m a roller-coaster junkie,” she admitted, reaching up to adjust the band that held her hair back from her face. “I’m guessing that comes as a surprise to you, too.”
“Guilty.” While he would have pictured her holding on for dear life as the car crested the summit and plunged over, he saw proof to the contrary affixed to the refrigerator. The photo of her and the young woman he’d met at Literacy Liaisons showed Elizabeth in the front seat of the first car, slim arms waving over her head, a delighted grin flashing over her face.
“Well, I am. The steeper, the faster, the more winding the better.” She said it with pride and just a little defiance.
“When and where was that taken?”
“Last summer. Mel and I took some of our younger clients on a field trip to an amusement park in Ohio,” she told him. “That particular coaster was new and billed as the highest and fastest one in the Midwest. Mel dared me to go on it and take that first plunge hands-free.” Now her smile was every bit as smug as it was nostalgic.
“Can’t turn down a dare?” His mouth began to water. He blamed it on the spices that were still making his tongue sting.
“Sure I can. But not one where I know I can do it.”
“Dang.” He snapped his fingers in mock dismay. “Another one of my misconceptions busted.”
“Besides, there was an ice-cream cone riding on my saying yes.”
“Ice cream. I like ice cream.” His gaze was on her mouth and his own was watering again. This time, there was