“Sure.” The waitress flounced away.
“She seems a bit disappointed you’re here with someone,” Grace said on a small smile.
“Yeah, well, she’s alone in her disappointment.”
“Kind of you to say.” Grace traced her thumb over the heel of Justin’s hand, then opened her mouth and closed it.
“Something wrong?”
“What’s going on here, Justin?”
“What do you mean?”
She tilted her head, gesturing to the café. “This.”
“Shockingly, people are eating.” He leaned forward. “And we’re going to join them.”
Huffing, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Justin didn’t let go of her hands. Instead, he waited to speak until she looked at him. “We’re finally sitting in a restaurant holding hands and sharing a meal, no ethics clauses clouding the view. We’re exploring what might happen when everything else is peeled away and it’s just us.”
Her breath caught and her fingers tightened around his. “And what might happen?”
“Whatever we both consent to. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“I’m not going to be in Seattle much longer, Justin. I don’t want serious. All I want is to...play.”
Grinning at her, he shook his head. “You have a thing for board games?”
“Not until about thirty minutes ago.”
Ignoring the disapproving glances, he leaned over the table and kissed her gently before settling back in his chair. “Which piece do you want to be?”
“All of them, and more than once.”
Her husky answer wound him up. Lust and longing and sexual hunger created a volatile cocktail of need that swam through him. “I promise you’ll pass ‘Go’ more than once.”
She grinned and shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here sexing up an eighty-year-old board game.”
“And I find it strangely attractive that you know how old the game is.”
“One of my useless pieces of trivia gleaned from years of...” She trailed off.
“Years of what?” he pressed.
She took a moment to meet his gaze. “Just a lot of lonely years.”
The waitress slid his sandwich on the table and refilled their drinks before leaving.
“Want a bite?” Justin asked, taking his hand away from hers to pick up the sandwich.
She shook her head as if to clear it. “No, thanks.”
“Ah. Holding out for dessert. I knew you were my kind of woman.”
“We’ll see about that.” She reached over and took a fry. “They’re hot.”