That's Amore! - Janelle Denison [86]
She tapped her cheek with the tip of her index finger and gave him an arched look. "Hmm … let me guess, it was because you got it as a gift and couldn't open the box?"
He threw his head back and looked heavenward. "What have I done to deserve such doubt?"
"Uh, nearly dropped a drill on your brother's head?"
Which he had the other night.
"Well, there is that," he conceded, his eyes still twinkling. "Now, what do you say, should we sit down in the coffee shop? If I'm going to be insulted, I think I should at least be allowed to do it over a cold drink."
She shouldn't. He was issuing exactly the kind of invitation she'd just been thinking so longingly about. There was nothing technically wrong about it, nothing sexual or forbidden. He was proposing exactly the kind of conversation she might have had with a girlfriend she'd run into at this same store. Or even the husband of a friend. Casual, friendly, entertaining.
It was the fact that Luke was the one offering that made her hesitate. She was already incredibly attracted to the man. Did she really want to get herself in any deeper here?
"Come on," he urged, "I want to hear what your aunt Ginny had to say about your new filing system."
"The shoe boxes are stacked on top of the desk. So far, that's the new filing system," she said, not even thinking about it.
His loud bark of laughter drew the attention of a few shoppers standing in the aisle. A woman eyeing the bestsellers gave Luke a thorough once-over, which made Rachel stiffen, even though he was nothing more than a friend.
That couldn't be jealousy. She wouldn't let it be jealousy. Because she had no right to be jealous.
Oh, please, let it not be jealousy. Because that would mean she was really falling for him.
"So much for you being the most organized person on the planet," he said.
"I lied."
"I know."
She smiled. So did he. Then, with a slow nod, she said, "Okay. Caramel Frap. And make it a Venti."
CHAPTER SIX
LUKE DIDN'T SLEEP WELL Friday night, and there was no question why. He'd been much too busy replaying every minute of his evening with Rachel.
The two of them had sat in the coffee shop area of the bookstore talking for hours. They'd literally closed the place down, being ushered out by weary employees who'd have had everything cleaned up already if not for their last two lingering customers.
He still couldn't believe how in sync the two of them had been. They'd talked so easily, like they'd known each other forever and could almost finish each other's sentences. He'd even opened up to her about his mixed feelings regarding his family, and why he'd needed to move away for several years to figure out that home was really where he wanted to be. He'd never shared that with anyone before.
Somehow, even though Rachel's family background had been completely different, she'd understood. And then she'd opened up to him, making him smile as her southern accent grew just a bit thicker when she fondly spoke of her North Carolina upbringing. Making him ache for her when she misted up over her father's recent death.
They hadn't remained melancholy for long. They'd joked and teased and devoured more whipped cream than he'd eaten in the past five years. He now knew what she liked to read and knew what she was afraid of and knew her favorite movies and her political affiliations and her birthday.
God help him. Why didn't he know any of those things about the woman he was supposed to marry in exactly two weeks?
He mulled over the thought as he sat at a table in the restaurant Saturday, a little before noon, and allowed his mind to drift back to the last moments of the previous evening.
When everything had fallen apart. The memory made his mouth pull into a frown even now, nearly twelve hours later. Everything had been fine until he'd walked Rachel to her car. Since it had been after midnight, he'd stayed close to her side. And it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to lace his fingers in hers, to walk close