of his against it. Maybe it was the way his lips canted up a little higher on the right side than the left when he smiled. Or maybe it was just the balmy evening, the flickering candlelight and the tinkling sound of water from the fountain in the center of the patio.
Instead of taking the lime from him, she simply leaned forward and sank her teeth into the small wedge, closing her lips around it to suck at the tart fruit.
His pupils flared.
Time seemed to stand still.
Finally, he let go of the lime and sat back. “You want to dance?”
She slowly drew the lime from her mouth. “Okay.”
And despite the fact that their plates were still steaming hot from the kitchen, he abandoned his chair and walked around to hers, pulling it away from the table.
She stood, too, and felt a shiver trickle down her spine when it seemed as if she could feel his warm breath on her neck.
Then he held out his hand.
She dropped her glasses on the table next to her plate and set her palm against his.
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