Confident a moment before, Mark went coy. Took another bite of Emily’s tart. Closed his eyes to relish it and offered up a soft, “Damn.”
“You’re welcome.”
That snapped him back.
“So. Why not?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Nu-uh,” he waved his fork at her. “No sidelining.”
“Even trade then.”
He considered for a moment too long. She slipped a hand toward his dessert plate. He made a stab of defense with his fork. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist, flipped it into a twist. Mark rolled with it and came up with his fork in his other hand and pressed it against her throat.
They both froze. Then with a rough laugh, she let go and he eased back onto his stool.
“Well, at least our reflexes are still good.”
Mark waved his fork around the room. “This place is enough to drive you right over the
