Page 33 of All of You

“Do you want a bite of macaroni and cheese? It’s basically the best thing you can put in your mouth.”

I let out a laugh and acquiesced with a nod. He speared a small cheesy noodle with the fork in his other hand and held it out to me. I leaned up off the booth and took it in my mouth, the creamy, rich flavor immediately flooding every taste bud as I slumped back in my seat.

I closed my eyes and refused myself the audible moan that threatened to escape. When my eyes blinked open, Ben was watching with a grin.

“Good?”

“So, so good. I don’t remember the last time I had pasta. Or cheese. Let alone mac and cheese.”

“Woman. That’s no way to live,” he said lightly, but I could see he was still concerned for me. “I guess it’s safe to say you don’t want dessert?”

“Not tonight, thanks.”

He signaled the waiter, who brought the check quickly. Ben paid, despite my insistence that I should.

“The deal was, I pay.”

“That’s sweet. But it’s not going to happen every time. Let me have this one.”

He leaned forward and tucked his wallet into his back pocket, then stood and offered me a hand. I took it and held on as he led the way through the restaurant, feeling eyes on us as we moved past the three large communal tables and out the door.

He walked to the next building and pulled me to the side, then nudged me so I turned and backed up a step until he had me leaning against the brick wall. The large windows that made up the front of Robbie’s Kitchen were inches from us, and plenty of people sitting in the front-most bistro tables would be able to see me if they were looking.

“What’re you doing?” I said quietly so none of the crowd standing in line outside the über-popular restaurant could hear.

Something flashed in his eyes. He stepped close, put one hand on my waist, and the other rested lightly on my opposite shoulder. He leaned in so his lips just barely grazed my ear. Despite the street noise of cars, the loud chatter of the crowd waiting to get inside, all I heard was Ben’s voice.

“I’m making sure it’s clear we’re not cousins. Because if we’d been on a date and I’d been staring at you for an hour, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing you. But I also wouldn’t want our first kiss to be on a street corner in front of a crowd, so I’m going to kiss your cheek, and then we’ll walk back to the truck. Okay?”

He pulled back and surveyed my face.

I nodded, barely able to breathe. Other than the hug, this was the closest we’d been. This was absolutely the first time I’d gotten a real sense of how sensual he could be, and it sent my pulse racing. He kept his eyes on mine, brought his hands to either side of my head and held me there, his hands wrapping around the back of my head and sifting into my hair, his thumbs at the sides of my face.

He moved slowly then, just like my heart and mind, because they’d slowed down to a hollow, distant drum beat as his warm lips pressed into the space just at the corner of my mouth, lingered there, and pulled back.

A flash went off, and then he pulled back completely, grabbed my hand, and we walked back to his truck.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ben

Damn. Damn. Damn.

I had been so close to kissing her. Soclose.

I wouldn’t pretend to understand the pressure of her level of fame. It was insane. Everyone was always looking. I bet someone had been taking her picture every five minutes through dinner. For all I knew, someone had been recording the whole dinner, hoping they could sell it to TMZ or some other celebrity-mad show.

But watching everyone watch her, knowing she wanted us to be seen in situations that were clearly romantic, I’d gone for it.

But right as I would have kissed her, I had stopped myself. Because part of me did want that first kiss—badly—but I didn’t want it to fall under the auspices of duping her adoring public and convincing Johnson she wasn’t a problem.

I wanted it to be because she wanted me to do it, and I wanted it to be where no one else could see.

Dangerous thinking, obviously enough.

I pulled up in front of her house—we’d hardly talked on the fifteen-minute ride back.

“So I’ll see you the first week of December, right?” she asked, unbuckling.

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