She took another sip of wine. “You don’t want to know.”
“Of course I do.” He layered a piece of cheese on a cracker, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed while he thought. “Let me guess. Everyone’s freaking out at the idea your owner may end up in prison.”
She didn’t respond. She seemed lost in thought. Maybe the best thing to do was to change the subject. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. A few seconds later, her mouth curved into a smile.
“How about dinner?” he said.
“Right now?”
“Whenever you’re hungry. I haven’t been in the neighborhood since college, so I might need a pointer or two about restaurants.”
A cute little wrinkle formed between her eyes when she was worried about something. “There’s just one problem,” she said.
He tried to appear casual while bracing himself.
“Someone’s going to recognize you if we leave my house.”
His exterior was cool while his innards were doing the little kid on Christmas morning dance. He’d expected her to ask when he had to be at the airport to fly home, or why he’d persisted when she told him she didn’t think they should date at all. Instead, she was accepting his offer.
“It might happen,” he said.
He had played for and graduated from UCLA, and a few alumni recognized him in the San Jose airport earlier. People recognized him when he went home to Wisconsin, when he was at the local grocery store picking up a half-gallon of milk and a loaf of bread in Bellevue, and anywhere else people owned a TV that showed commercials for one of the products he endorsed. They were typically nice and he was flattered, but he’d prefer spending some time alone with her tonight. Being seen together in public (and being recognized) would be disastrous for Kendall.
“It will happen,” she said.
“Maybe we should order a pizza or something, then,” he said.
To his surprise, she grinned. “You grew up here, didn’t you? I thought you’d suggest In-N-Out. I know a little something about the secret menu.”
“I grew up in Wisconsin. You probably already know I went to UCLA.”
She gave him a nod and a mischievous smile.
“I went to Wharton in San Francisco, but my brother worked at In-N-Out during high school. He used to bring food home a lot.”
“So, you know all about the Double-Double Animal Style,” he said.
The sweet sound of her laughter rang out. He had to laugh too. He never dreamed they’d bond over their shared love for a fast-food place Californians revered. Guys who had game didn’t take a stylish and sophisticated woman to a burger place on their second date, but he was happy to know she wouldn’t object to it.
“And the root beer float. You’re not dealing with an amateur here,” she said. She took another sip of wine and put her glass back down on the table. “I was planning on a big salad and maybe some garlic bread for dinner tonight. I could go to the store and get some steak—”
“Salad sounds great. What can I do to help?”
“You’re going to need more food than that,” she protested.
“We’ll make it work.”
He popped another raspberry into his mouth and almost choked on it when she said, “What time is your flight back to Seattle?”
He managed to swallow the little piece of fruit, gazed into her eyes, and said, “What time would you like it to be?”
Chapter Six
* * *
KENDALL COULDN’T SEEM to let go of Drew’s bigger, rougher hand. She’d told him they shouldn’t date. She was risking public and professional humiliation by even talking with him. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave. The guy had dropped everything to get on a plane. Anyone else kind enough to return her iPhone would have taken it to the nearest overnight mailing facility, paid the fee, and sent her the tracking information via e-mail or text instead of buying a last-minute airline ticket.
The phone was a convenient excuse, and they both knew it. She should be worried about the difficult to resist energy between them, but instead, all she could think was this is the most romantic thing any man has done for me.
She was in over her head already. She kept telling him this couldn’t happen, but she wasn’t convincing herself of that fact.
“The last flight to Seattle is at eight this evening.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and consulted the screen. “I could still buy a ticket—”
“I don’t want you to,” she blurted out, and she barely resisted slapping her hand over her mouth.
If he stayed, they would sleep together, and saying goodbye to him again would be worse. But she couldn’t stand the thought of his leaving. He’d just gotten here. The part of her that was so fixated on getting him out of her hotel room was gone, or at the very least, silenced temporarily.