Page 38 of Marked By Moonlight

Eating out together, socializing—those were taboos. He didn’t want to get too close. No doubt he had avoided her all day for that very reason.

“Sorry to trouble you,” she snapped, hating the pout in her voice, the pang of loneliness in her heart. Turning to leave, she called over her shoulder, “I’ll just go and eat the box of Arm and Hammer in your fridge.”

She was halfway to the door when his voice stopped her. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Texadelphia,” she replied, salivating at the image of a beefy steak-and-cheese sandwich as big as her arm. She usually avoided them. Too many calories. But who was counting now?

He stood, wiping his hands on his worn jeans. A wave of his scent hit her, sweat and man, and her body sprang into aching awareness.

“Give me a sec to shower.”

She nodded, trying not to imagine his naked body beneath a spray of hot water—or her hands sliding over his large body, lathering soap over every hard inch of him. Her belly clenched and she rushed from the room, desperate for a moment alone to rein in her aberrant yearnings before facing Gideon again.

As they sat in a back booth, Led Zeppelin blasting from the speakers above, Claire eyed the collegiate-looking couple sitting in the booth across from them.

She smiled and nodded her head at them. “First date.”

An arm stretched casually along the back of the booth, Gideon eyed the kids. “How can you tell?”

Her gaze skimmed the little black dress with spaghetti straps the girl wore. “She’s way too dressed up for this place.”

A smile twitched at his lips. “You’re not one to talk about being overdressed.”

She glanced down at her cleavage. He had noticed after all. Yet nothing in his face showed whether he appreciated her efforts or not.

“This is overdressed?” she asked.

“No. I guess I’d call itunderdressed.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, dark blond hair falling over his brow. “Why do I get the feeling that you, Miss Morgan, never owned an outfit like that before?”

“So maybe I went on a little shopping spree.” She shrugged, sipping her drink.

“And what about your other changes?” His gaze skimmed her face and hair.

His implication was clear. It was nothing he hadn’t already said. He chalked up her makeover as a side effect of the curse.

“Give me a break.” Unwilling to admit that he was right, she said, defending herself, “I had the same hairstyle since fourth grade. A haircut was long overdue.”

Pride stopped her from conceding that anything other than her own free will brought about the changes in her appearance.

“You’re not a very good liar.” Those light green eyes glittered knowingly.

She dropped her gaze and plucked at her paper napkin.

“The new you definitely impressed your boyfriend,” he added in a low voice.

She lifted her gaze, her brow creasing. “What boyfriend?”

“Your teacher friend.”

“Cyril?” She grimaced and waved a hand in the air. “We had one date. Besides, I don’t think he would like the new me.”

He smirked. “He did from where I stood.”

“Maybe on the outside. But he likes his women—” She searched for the right word, fingers pinching the air as if she could grab hold of it.

Gideon readily supplied it. “Wimpy?”

---