“You use a little fork. For the mussels. I’ll show you.” He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “New foods can be exciting.”

“I know.” A bitty shiver danced up her arm, but still, she tugged away in gentle protest and refolded the napkin in her lap. “Can I at least order my own dessert?”

Tenting his fingers, he rested his elbows on the table and gazed over his hands. “You can do whatever you like, Ms. Meadows.”

She sipped her wine, savoring the rich, plummy flavor, and her belly warmed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s forgotten.”

After Charles cleared the last of the dinner plates and scraped breadcrumbs onto a half-moon, silver tray, Richard leaned back and patted his belly.

With the heaviness of a meal in her stomach and the haze of Bordeaux softening the night, she rested her chin in her hands. “You were right. The steak was heavenly.”

“What’s the verdict on mussels?”

“Slimy, but delicious. I loved the bread dipped in that briny broth.” She made a low sound of satisfaction. “You know, your plants are very happy in my garden. Thank you again for delivering them.”

“My pleasure.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

He divided the last of the wine between their glasses. “Oh yes, I did. I couldn’t count on bumping into you again, and I quite frankly don’t have time to stalk you. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

A thrill flittered in her chest like a canary. Of all the gals in good old Green Ridge, Dr. Richard Bruce chose her. Dipping her chin, she gazed from beneath her lashes. “Well, they are capable hands.”

He lifted his glass and smiled. “You have no idea.”

She walked right into that one. Her witty banter was definitely dulled by drink. She lowered her lashes and ran a finger along the edge of her napkin. The seam tickled, and the tiny bird near her heart fluttered in response.

“Are you sure you want dessert?” he asked.

Placing both palms on the table, she glared. “Absolutely.”

“As you wish. But let’s order and get out of here. I can’t wait to get you back to my place.”

She gulped ice water and prayed her ability to walk would remain intact.

The molten lava cake was decadently rich. She tried to make it last, but she couldn’t. Forcing herself to savor the final creamy forkful, she licked her lips with languid pleasure.

Richard didn’t notice. He downed his cobbler in two bites and, with a quick word of apology, again extracted his phone.

She dropped her fork onto the plate with a louder-than-necessary clang.

He glanced up and popped the phone into his coat.

Mission accomplished.

“Good lord, I thought you’d never finish.” He waved to Charles for the check.

“Don’t you want to linger over coffee?” She raised a brow. “Maybe cappuccino?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Very funny.”