“I guess we better eat then.” If she thought the appearance of food would move Quinn back to his side of the booth, she was wrong. But not disappointed. When he removed his arm from behind her back so he could cut his steak, she felt a chill as if she’d already gotten use to the warmth of him by her side. Warning bells sounded in her head. The goal for the night was to have fun, not fall head over heels in love with a bear shifter. A shifter she had no hope of mating. Casual. Fun. Carefree. Those were her three words for the night. She repeated them over and over in her head.
As the meal progressed, Paige felt herself sinking deeper and deeper under Quinn’s spell. Besides being so wonderful to look at with his dark hair and dark eyes and dark skin, he had a gift for conversation. She would have expected him to be the center of any party with his play boyish charm. Surprisingly, one on one, he was proving to be warm and friendly. Real. They talked about movies and books, politics and art. He told her some of the history of shifters, a subject she found fascinating. And not because a big bear shifter was looking at her with lust stamped across his taunt features. She thought it was lust. With her luck, he’d eaten a bad burrito for lunch and it was only gas.
“Most shifters mate for life.”
“What?” Had she missed something while pondering if he really did want her?
He smiled and repeated what he had said. “Most shifters mate for life, but not necessarily bears.”
Was this his gentle way of saying she wasn’t his mate, but he wanted to fuck her while trying to find his true mate? Duh, big boy. She’d already figured that out for herself. She smiled. What else could she do? “It must be nice, though, to know you’ve found that someone made especially for you.”
“Oh, it is.”
She frowned, waiting for him to say something else. He finished his dinner without elaborating on his cryptic remark. A frown marred her brow. She didn’t think Deb would have set her up with her brother if she’d known the man had already found his true mate. Just her dumb luck, he’d probably met the woman on the sidewalk outside the restaurant and was too much of a gentleman to stand her up. She’d always been a day late and a dollar short.
After a few more moments of silence, he pushed his empty plate aside. He’d ordered an enormous amount of food and eaten all of it. When the waiter had come back around, he’d ordered a large slice of chocolate cake.
Besides the appetizer he’d fed her—and part of the mouthwatering dessert—she’d eaten all of her salad and her steak. And the bread. Let’s not forget the bread, Paige, she chastised herself. And the carbs that would attach themselves directly to her hips and thighs. She quickly shoved aside the old insecurities that threatened to burst forth.
“Are you ready to go?” Quinn’s voice was hard and tight. His earlier charming demeanor evaporating. Suddenly, she thought she was watching time-lapsed photography on the National Geographic Channel. She could actually see the tension grip Quinn’s body.
Heck, Paige thought, this was where she got the brush off. The, it was nice to meet you, I’ll be sure and tell my sister what a good time I had…blah, blah, blah, blah. She remembered why she didn’t let her friends set her up with blind dates. It always ended badly and then you had the awkward morning after with your friend. How much worse was it going to be since Quinn was the brother of said friend?
The waiter brought the check and Quinn handed over his credit card. At least he didn’t insist that she pay half. A wave of disappointment washed over her as they waited for the man to return. As the night had progressed, she had decided that, if he offered, she would go home with him. Or take him home with her. She didn’t really care as long as it ended with her beneath him, him inside her.
What had gone so wrong? They’d laughed, they’d danced, they’d even kissed. Twice. One kiss had been as sweet as it was arousing. The other hot enough to make a woman beg.
As the silence continued, she picked up her purse, wondering how awkward the goodbye would be. Should she offer him her hand, or, could she hope for a kiss goodnight in the parking lot? The waiter brought back his credit card and he stuffed it in his wallet. His placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her through the tables and out the door. The night had turned chilly and she crossed her arms, rubbing them for warmth.
“Well, I guess—”
“Which car is yours?” The restaurant didn’t have valet parking.
“The white one,” she pointed to a small compact near the front of the lot. She’d made a point to arrive early in order to get a close parking spot. She never liked leaving a restaurant and making her way to her car in the dark. In a few short strides, he was handing her inside the car, watching as she fastened the seatbelt. Apparently, she wasn’t getting a kiss goodnight or even a handshake goodbye.