Mina’s head fizzed with confusion.
Was this the time to give him the news about the baby, now that they were getting matters out into the open?
A gnawing feeling told her that she should just stay quiet at this point.
One step at a time. They were doing well so far, getting back onto normal ground with each other.
She met Chet’s blue gaze again, bracing herself for the impact that always hit her whenever he was close, and—boom. Stomach somersaulting, the acrobatics in her chest… They didn’t disappoint, leaving her nearly breathless.
He looked serious, so she sat still, as if something was about to crack between them, like a piece of glass they’d been tiptoeing over.
He gazed at her a tension-filled moment longer, then shook his head. “Just look at us. Things are so thick in the air that I can practically carve it. And I’ll be damned if our work suffers because of it.”
Her heart sank so low that it might as well have crumbled to nothing. Maybe there really wouldn’t be a future between them…
For the first time, panic hit her.
Was she going to be a single mom? Her—the woman who’d been so together?
She also had to admit that all the family talk from earlier had done a number on her, and she was extra sensitive right now. After chatting with her mom today, she’d started really thinking about how her nearest and dearest would react to Chet, the scandal-plagued man who’d been wreaking havoc on her. Her family would be real protective of Mina for certain, just as they’d been after her last significant other had broken her heart.
That’s probably why she’d been so put out about her mom checking up on her today, when it normally didn’t bother her as much. Facing Chet had just exacerbated her emotions.
“I’m only hoping I didn’t damage our relationship permanently,” Chet added.
“You haven’t. We haven’t.” Mina reached for a piece of fresh bread from the basket.
“It’s just…” He lost his words, then picked them back up. “Do you remember when talk used to come easier between us? We used to kid each other, like about how I never went on dates. And I’d do the same to you. These days, the very subject would take on new meaning.”
“You think that we’d be keeping each other in check or something? That there’d still be strings attached to us just because of one night?”
“Don’t you think so?”
One of the chef’s assistants peeked out from around the corner, gauging their reaction to the first part of the meal. When Mina caught her eye, the young ponytailed woman drew back.
This wasn’t exactly the perfect place for a life-altering kind of talk, Mina thought.
She gestured toward his salad. “What do you think so far?”
Chet’s broad shoulders sank, as if he’d wanted to talk more. “Top-notch.”
They continued eating. She suddenly noticed that Chef Arnett had even selected some music to go with the meal. Beethoven. The chaotic symphony did little to calm her racing thoughts.
“So,” he said, as if he couldn’t help himself. “After we get the resort manager in place, you’ll have a breather from this project and the office altogether. I’ll see to it. You’ve been running yourself ragged lately.”
“I like working.”
“I think you work too much sometimes.”
“Look who’s talking.”
He grinned at that. “Look, indeed.”
After a few more minutes, Chef Arnett appeared again, this time with more samples and paired wines: things like parmesan-crusted scallops, pan-seared salmon over risotto, grilled poussin with fingerling potatoes. At the delicious aroma, Mina wanted to dig in. Her appetite was growing by the week, but there was no way she would let Chet see that.
When the chef was gone, Chet continued, “All I’m saying is that I’m afraid business has taken over your life.”
“Wrong.”
At his quirked eyebrow, she realized what he was getting around to.
Was he attempting to see if she’d moved on from him? If she was “getting out of the office” with a social life, which might or might not include another man?
Well, wouldn’t that be a nice break for Chet—her falling for a different guy, one who was emotionally available. But it was disheartening, because he had to have felt something on that night—something that had stayed with him as much as it’d stayed with her. She knew it because of the way he’d touched her, whispered her name as if it was carrying him to a new, better place.
She’d never heard a man say her name like that before.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, capturing a forkful of creamed spinach. “I’ll hop right on to an internet social-networking site once we’re done here and attempt to find some sort of real life if that’ll make you feel any better.”