She cleared her throat and prayed her voice wouldn’t fail her. “I’m okay,” she lied. “But how about you?” Her question sounded rushed and breathless, even to herself. “I crashed into you pretty hard, and I’m not a lightweight anymore,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Looking sexier than ever, he grinned down at her, but didn’t answer. Instead he took a measured step back and stared at her with dark, sensual eyes that made her blood burn in a way it had never burned before. After a long, lingering look, he drove his hands into his jean pockets, pushing them lower on his hips. Katy’s glance dropped to his sexy oblique muscles, which were peeking out from beneath his untucked shirt, and tried not to think about the way her fingers itched to trace each sinewy striation.
He made a noise and her gaze darted back to his face in time to see the sadness in his eyes when they clashed with hers.
He quickly blinked it away, but his voice was a little low, a little rough with emotion when he asked, “How are you, Katy? Or should I say Kathleen?”
Katy swallowed, and felt the sting of his words all the way to her core. She couldn’t fault him for his comment, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She stiffened and adjusted her apron, understanding how things were going to be between them, and wondering how she could possibly make it right again.
“You can call me whatever you want to call me.” Desperate to put some well-needed distance between them, she positioned herself behind the counter and noted the way his gaze tracked her every movement. “Did you want to place an order or did you come here to glare at me?”
“I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“An order it is then. What can I get you, T?”
With that he took a small step back, stumbling slightly. His shoulders tensed and his jaw flexed. Raw emotions flitted across his face as undisguised need entered his eyes.
“What?” Katy asked.
He shook his head, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
Katy knew it wasn’t nothing. She took a moment to think about what she said, and then realized she’d made a horrendous slip. She’d called him T, her private nickname for him. The same name she called him whenever they’d made make love. She resisted the urge to slap her forehead. How could she have been so stupid?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.” She braced her hands on the counter and said, “It was just a silly slip.”
He visibly relaxed. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Feeling completely flustered, and wanting to make things right, she rushed out, “Let me make it up to you.”
“You don’t—”
She raised her hand to stop him and said, “Your meal is on me.”
Once again he tensed, and it occurred to her that she’d just made slip number two. God, what was wrong with her? She caught the look in Trent’s eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing as her. Thinking about all the fun they had with food, drizzling each other with warm chocolate, or spraying each other with whip cream and languidly licking it off. Even though he hated her—the darkness in his eyes told her so—sexual tension still hung heavy. The fiery sparks arcing between them could very well set the restaurant ablaze.
“I mean…” When she caught the gleam in his eye, her voice fell off.
His mouth curved, and he leaned against the countertop. “Go on.”
Before she could answer, the bell above the door chimed and four customers walked in.
Trent straightened, and there was a hardness in his tone that wasn’t there before when he asked, “How long are you in town?”
She drew a shaky breath. “The summer.”
“That long, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m on an eight-week hiatus.”
“I guess I’ll see you around then.” With that he drove his hands deeper into his pockets and turned to go.
“What about your meal?”
“I’ll take a rain check.” He turned back to her, and warmth moved into his eyes when he said in a low voice meant for her ears only, “Oh, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to call you Katy.”
Katy’s heart raced as she stood there and watched him leave. He didn’t go straight for the door, however. Instead, he stopped at the corner booth, her granddaddy Errol’s favorite seat, and grabbed his cane. Her granddaddy must have left it there after lunch. Normally he sat with Byron and Harold, but today Byron was lunching with his grandson and Harold was home resting. Katy had enjoyed a bowl of chowder with her granddaddy on her break, and she remembered seeing the cane. She also remembered thinking it was new. He’d been walking perfectly fine for the last two days, and when she asked about it, he brushed her off. But she had to wonder why Trent was there picking it up for him. Jeez, she hoped Errol hadn’t called the fire department claiming an emergency because he’d left it behind at the restaurant. Of course, she wouldn’t put it past him.