Page 33 of Making Over Maris
He blinked. “A postmortem?”
“Yes.” She took him by the sleeve and tugged him inside. Shut the door. Spun on him. “We need to go over the whole evening and discuss where you could have done better.”
“Done better?”
“Yes. Come on. I have a great bottle of Moscato.”
“I don’t think I should drink any more.” He glanced over his shoulder, toward his car. As though he wanted to escape.
“One glass. You barely had any at the restaurant.”
“I know. I have to drive.”
“Come on, Jack.” She forced herself to glare at him. Schooled her voice into a pedantic tone. “We have a lot to go over.”
His face fell. “Did I do that bad?”
“No. Honestly. You did great. But there are some things we should cover while the memory’s fresh. Not the least of which is taking cues.”
“Taking cues?”
“Yeah. How to tell when a woman is willing. For one.”
That got his attention. He cleared his throat. “Did I…miss any cues?”
She frowned. “You missed plenty.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
“For instance?”
“Well, the foot thing.”
“I figured that out.”
“Sharing a dessert.”
“Okay…”
“A woman never shares her dessert with a man she’s not…into.”
“Into?” His eyes glazed over for a minute. “Are you into me, Sara?”
She ignored him. He was an idiot. “And that kiss? How could you not tell from that kiss?”
“It was a nice kiss.”
“It was a fantastic kiss!”
He preened. “Did you really think so?”
“Yes! Damn it, Jack!” She spun away and crossed her arms over her chest. Hell. She’d sent him cues all night long and he’d ignored them. Every one. Bloody hell—
He came up behind her. His warmth touched her first. Then his hand on her shoulder. He turned her. He tipped her chin with two fingers. “Look at me, Sara.” She did. She tried to glower but failed. “I liked that kiss. A lot. But I agree. I don’t think we got it quite right.”
What the fuck? She gaped at him.
