Oh God. Did she want him to? He was such an ass—
He’d apologized. Seemed to genuinely mean it . . . or at the least was very determined that she believe it.
Garret brushed back a strand of her hair. “I’m not going to say anything,” he told her. “Every time I do, I stick my foot in my mouth.”
“You’re saying something right now.”
His lips curved. Her thighs clenched.
Shit. Shit. She . . . wanted his mouth to slant across hers.
“You’re beautiful.” One hand gently cupped her cheek. “And I’m so, so sorry.”
More words, but she wasn’t hearing them because he was coming closer, warm breath on her cheek . . . on her forehead.
He pressed a gentle kiss there before straightening, meeting her no doubt surprised eyes with warm chocolate ones. “I hope someday you’ll give me a chance to prove that I’m not usually an ass.”
Then he reached behind her, making her breath catch all over again and picked up a glass.
Somehow during all of the apologizing, he’d managed to order her another Cosmo. Her anger eased, not gone completely, but tempered, along with her hurt feelings.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
Carefully, he handed over the drink.
“You didn’t drug this, did you?” she blurted.
A raised brow. “Will it get you to accept my apology?”
She shook her head. “Not a chance.”
“Damn.” Garret smirked. “Not my speed, sweetheart.”
She eyed the drink then him.
“I’m happy to pay for a fresh one if you want to watch the bartender mix it up.”
Kay bit her lip, watched his eyes heat and drift to that spot again. “No,” she said, trying to pretend she wasn’t breathless. “That’s okay.”
One more brush of his fingers, this time along the outside of her arm and making her shiver. “I’ll see you later.”
And then he was gone, taking the rest of her anger along with him.
Maybe she was a pushover who forgave too easily.
But . . . maybe she wasn’t.
Chapter Five
Garret
He saw the moment Kay clued into the fact that they would be sitting next to each other at dinner.
Consternation rolled across her expression, followed by softness and then maybe irritation. She was almost an open book with those feelings written on her face, and he had the feeling that if he got to know her better, he’d be able to read them as easily as one of her books.
And he wanted to know her better.
Whether or not she believed it, since that night he’d thought of little else aside finding a way to win her over, to prove that he wasn’t always a jerk, and to convince her to give him a second chance for a first date.