He likes polka. Polka, for the love of all that’s holy.
Other than that extreme failing—and a tendency to dominate the conversation, which I already knew—he has lovely manners and is easy to be around. He’s smart, polite, engaging, and funny. Not to mention well dressed and sophisticated. He’s the kind of man every woman’s mother would love to have as a son-in-law.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asks after a hostess brings us menus.
“Like what?”
He tilts his head, examining me. “Like you’ve got a secret.”
I laugh. “I was just wondering how you’re still single.”
He leans back in his chair, smiling, obviously pleased. “So you think I’m a catch.”
I don’t want his ego getting any larger than it already is, so I shrug, because I’m nice like that. My nonchalance makes him throw his head back and laugh.
“You’re a tough nut to crack, you know that, Megan?”
“I’ve never had a man call me a nut before, so no. I didn’t know that. But…thank you?”
“Just an observation, not a compliment, but if you want a compliment, I’ve got about a dozen of them ready to go.”
I lift my brows. “You prefabricate compliments to pay to women? I feel so special.”
Craig’s eyes grow warm. He murmurs, “Not for women in general. For you. I won’t admit exactly how much time I’ve spent thinking about you, but it’s a lot.”
My cheeks heat. I glance down at the white linen napkin on my lap, flustered by the look in his eyes, which is frankly sexual. “You’re very good at this.”
“What?”
I glance back up at him. He’s leaning over the table now, eagerly listening.
“Flirting.”
His lips cant up. He blinks like a debutante, coy as sin. “Am I?”
“Yes. You are. But you already knew that.”
“And you’re very good at being alluringly mysterious and hard to read.”
That makes me laugh out loud. “Mysterious? Hardly. I’m an open book compared to some.” Like Theo Valentine, for instance.
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my left ear, silently cursing myself for thinking about Theo. It’s like he’s taken up residence in my head and is just lounging around in there, waiting for random opportunities to shout, Hey, think about me!
Craig watches the motion of my hand with a contemplative look, then meets my eyes. “Okay, since you’re an open book, may I ask a personal question?”
I have a bad feeling about this, but nod anyway.
“You told me during our first conversation when you called for a quote that you moved here because your husband had passed away. How long ago was that?”
A pit forms in my stomach. I swallow, moistening my lips. “Five years.”
Craig asks gently, “Why are you still wearing your wedding ring after five years?”
I hide my hand in my lap and curl my thumb into my palm, twisting the plain gold circle around my finger. I feel exposed and vulnerable. My heart is caught in my throat. “The answer to that probably isn’t something a man on a first date would like to hear.”
Now he’s really interested. His eyes glow with intensity. “I do want to hear it. Please.”
I take a breath, hoping my voice comes out steady. “I don’t take it off because I still feel married. I am still married. My husband just happens to be dead.”
After a beat, Craig leans back in his chair, crosses one long leg over the other, folds his hands in his lap, and looks at me until I’m squirming with embarrassment.
“I told you you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“I’m glad you told me, though. But it begs another question.”
I have to swallow a groan. “Which is?”
“If you really feel that way, why are you having dinner with me?”
I think about that long and hard. I can’t find an answer that won’t sound either pathetic or like I’m using him for a free meal, so I tell him the truth. “Because you make it impossible to say no.”
He winces. “God, you make me sound like a sexual predator.”
I blow out a breath that turns into a laugh. “That came out wrong. What I meant was that you’re charming.”
He cocks a brow, waiting for more. Obviously, he’s not satisfied by my half-hearted attempt to salvage the conversation, but I’m rusty as hell at this, and not in the mood to massage his ego.
I level him with a look. “Craig, you know you’re handsome. Half the women in this restaurant gave themselves whiplash watching you as we walked to our table.”
He smiles serenely. “Go on.”