“Care to explain what we’re doing on the side of the road?” he inquired lightly as an occasional car whizzed past.
“Here’s the deal. If you promise that you will not say another word about the restaurant or about my decision to stay in Winding River, I will go to Laramie with you.”
He didn’t immediately seize the offer the way she’d anticipated. Instead, his expression grew thoughtful.
“Why Laramie?” he asked.
She ticked off the reasons. “Because it is not Winding River, because we can go to a movie there, because I heard about a restaurant I’d like to try.”
“Aha,” he said, grinning at her. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it? You can’t help it. Even when you’re on some kind of break, you can’t resist checking out the competition.”
Gina frowned. “It’s not competitiveness. I just happen to like food.”
“Oh, really? When was the last time you actually ate a meal. I’ve been with you on several occasions lately, and though you talk a lot about food, you barely touch anything that’s put in front of you.”
“I haven’t been that hungry,” she said defensively. “Do you want to go to Laramie or not? Last chance. I can always drive myself.”
“Okay. Okay. Just point me the right way,” he said.
Gina gave him directions, then sat back, and for the first time since she’d talked to Bobby the day before, she began to relax as the miles flew by. Rafe flipped on the car radio and found a soothing oldies station that concentrated on ballads. By the time they reached the outskirts of Laramie, she was actually feeling pretty mellow.
“Lunch first?” he asked as he drove into downtown.
“Yes,” she agreed, suddenly starved. The restaurant she’d heard about was actually a coffee house with an interesting menu of salads, some of which she thought she might be able to incorporate into the Café Tuscany luncheon selections. Even as the prospect crossed her mind, she realized the incongruity of it. One minute she was ready to shut the place down, the next she couldn’t help planning for its future. Maybe she wasn’t as committed to giving up as she’d made herself believe. Funny how both Tony and, more important, Rafe had seen that when she hadn’t.
Gina studied the menu and found two or three different salads that sounded intriguing. She regarded Rafe hopefully. “Do you know what you want?”
“I was thinking about a burger,” he said.
She regarded him with undisguised regret, which he immediately picked up on. “What’s wrong with a burger?” he asked.
“Nothing, but would you mind getting a salad with it?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to sample three of these, and I’ll feel like an idiot if I have to order all of them myself. Not that it would be the first time. I once ordered half a dozen appetizers at a restaurant in Paris because I knew I’d never get back there. The waiter brought them all without a single comment, but the next thing I knew the entire wait staff and the chef were standing at the door of the kitchen staring at me as if I’d sprouted two heads.”
“Did that bother you?”
“No, but it kept me from taking notes,” she said sorrowfully. “I tried to write everything down after I left, but I couldn’t remember every ingredient the way I could have if I’d done it on the spot. It took me months of experimenting to be able to nail down some of the subtler spices.”
“So what you’re telling me is that I am about to help you steal some chef’s recipes,” Rafe said.
“I’m not going to steal them,” she protested even though he looked more amused than appalled by the notion. “I’ll enhance them.”
“An interesting distinction.” He glanced up at the waitress, then gestured toward Gina. “Talk to her. She knows what we’re both having.”
After she’d placed their order, Gina regarded him with a grin. “I like a man who’s not afraid to let a woman take charge.”
“And I like a woman with confidence,” he said. “It’s nice to see yours coming back. It’s also good to see you thinking about the future. I’m glad we came here.”
“So am I,” Gina said, her gaze locked with his.
“Are we having our first official date, Gina Petrillo?” he asked solemnly.
Her pulse fluttered at the suggestion. “I don’t know, are we?”
“It certainly seems that way to me.”
“Dating could be complicated,” she said with real regret. “Maybe we shouldn’t even think about it until…well, until everything is settled.”
“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “But that’s not what I want.”
“Neither do I,” she admitted in a whisper.
In fact, right this second with her heartbeat skittering crazily, she wanted very much to be on a first date with this man. She wanted to get to know what made him tick, wanted to feel his lips on hers again, wanted to feel his skin heat beneath her touch. It had been a very long time since she had wanted any of that, even longer since she had needed it the way she did right this minute. In fact, the way she was feeling was more appropriate to a fifth date, maybe even a tenth.
As if he sensed her turmoil, perhaps even shared it, he reached across the table and clasped her hand in his. There was strength and warmth in his touch. As the pad of his thumb grazed her palm, there was even more—a teasing hint of smoldering sensuality. Gina swallowed hard. Her gaze lifted, met his.
“Suddenly I’m not very hungry,” she said, watching closely for his reaction to the unspoken implications of that.
“Neither am I,” he said without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. “Do you want me to cancel the order?”
She shook her head, then chuckled at his obvious disappointment. It gave her courage. “Get it to go.”
Ten minutes later they had three carry-out orders of salad and a warm loaf of sourdough bread. Even though she felt almost giddy, Gina managed to get to the car without bursting into
