Worth the Risk(31)

It would have been easier if he’d turned out to be a jerk. Easier to say no, easier to protect herself. The more she liked him, the more she struggled against that niggling fear reminding her she had little ability to tell the good guys from the bad.

They watched street performers and stood in line to pet a white tiger cub from a local zoo. She didn’t even want to know how much money he’d passed the guy to get her an extra five minutes. After that, they decided on dinner, a hibachi-style place. The food was good, the table lively. She learned Stephen had a talent for catching food in his mouth. And that she had none.

They came out of the restaurant to a very different boardwalk. Twinkling lights hung like lace in ornamental trees against the dark sky. As they’d learned from their waiter, tonight was couples night, the last night of Spring Fling Week.

The sound of a band drew them in a certain direction, and Stephen took her hand again. It was becoming a natural thing, his touching her, her liking it. She felt safe and secure with Stephen’s big body shielding her from the crowd. For someone who never felt completely safe, it was amazing. Liberating. Even with her brothers it wasn’t the same, maybe because their tension radiated like a warning blast, constantly on the lookout for danger. Had they always been that way or only after? She couldn’t remember.

People flowed toward the stage. Couples closer to the front danced, some with practiced moves, others content to sway in each other’s arms. She and Stephen stood together for a while overlooking the water, listening and people-watching.

“How about some ice cream?” Stephen suggested.

“Sure.” She waited for him by the rail, tapping her fingers to the beat, wondering what it would be like in Stephen’s arms. To be held against his hard body. How would she fit against him? Would she still feel safe or would she feel trapped?

“Here you go.”

Stephen returned, looking like a proud little boy with his offering. The one bowl he held was huge, piled with mounds of ice cream and topped with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. She certainly didn’t need her own, and there were two spoons, but—

“I thought we could share,” he said with a smile.

Her stomach tumbled again. At the smile. The man. And the intimate act of sharing. Stephen held the bowl for both of them and they took turns until her tiny plastic spoon broke in the hard ice cream. “Well, crap. I’ll get another one.”

Stephen caught her hand and tugged her back. “I’ll share.”

Something about the look in his eyes had her blood going hot, her skin tingling. He held the ice cream out for her to help herself with his spoon, to put her lips where his had just been.

“Go ahead.”

She took her bite and passed it back. The way his eyes held hers when he slipped the spoon between his lips was devastating. He always said a lot without saying much, and right now he seemed to be saying this was more than sharing ice cream.

Back and forth they repeated the process until it was nearly gone. Instead of taking his next bite, he held it out to her and waited for her to open up like a baby. When she did, he brought it within an inch, then at the last second bypassed her lips and slid the spoon into his own mouth.

Her jaw dropped and she gaped at him. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Forgetting herself, she punched his arm.

He faked pain, laughing. “Believe it, baby. So I guess you think you should get the last bite, huh?”

“I think that’s only fair. Since you got the first one.”

“You got the first one.” He shook his head like he was disappointed. “You have a bad memory, Goldilocks.”

He scraped around the edges of the bowl, careful not to miss any last bit of chocolate. When he was satisfied, he held the spoon in front of her lips. “Open.”

She shook her head.

“Trust me.”

Finally, and with a warning glare, she took a chance. Agonizingly slowly, he filled her mouth with cold vanilla and warm fudge.

“Damn.” His eyes went heavy, his voice a deep whisper. He cupped her cheek in his palm and a thousand bolts shot through her. Just a touch, but more intimate than anything she’d ever felt. He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb, swiped it across her lower lip.

She was well and truly caught, staring into the same brown eyes she’d looked into all day, but not like this. Not with this feeling that something was about to happen. Something that could change everything. Her heart pounded, raced toward whatever that something was. She licked her lips self-consciously under Stephen’s scrutiny. Like he was hungry. Starved.

Stephen leaned in. Closer and closer as if in slow motion, until his lips hovered a breath from hers. His fingers slid through the hair at the side of her face.