“You are. It’s cool, Camille.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I mean—”

“Me neither.” A pure, ungovernable impulse took over. He leaned over and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. Soft. Her skin was so silky, and her hair smelled like flowers. She didn’t move or pull away, merely regarded him calmly. Then her gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth, and he kissed her gently, his lips lightly touching hers, tasting. Her mouth was warm and soft. Delicious with the flavor of sweet tea. Still she didn’t move, but her slight inhalation signaled surprise, and maybe, if he was reading her right, a small pleasure.

“After that,” he whispered against her lips, “I don’t need dessert.”

“Listen,” she whispered back, “it would be a bad idea to start something.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re leaving. And I’m . . .”

“Delicious,” he said. “That’s what you are.”

“Knock it off.” She shifted on the bench, moving away from him. “I’ve told you I’m not interested in dating.”

The kiss had been light and fleeting, but at the same time, dangerously intimate. This was a bad idea, Finn told himself. He had no business getting tangled up with this woman. On went the armor around his heart, and he reverted to his default self. “Then we could just make out. I’ll change my ticket and stick around for a while.”

She gazed at him softly. Touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip—just briefly. Just enough to mesmerize him. “You know,” she said in a low, sexy voice, “I’ve been wondering about you, too, the way you did about me. I was wondering why you’re single.”

Aha. He was going to have her eating out of the palm of his hand any moment. “Yeah?”

She smiled. Moist lips, bedroom eyes. “I figured it out, though.”

“Did you, now?”

“You’re a player. Women are so not into players.”

Damn, he thought. He was surprised to feel a sharp sting where her words darted into him. He covered his disappointment with a laconic grin. “Let’s go on an un-date, then. You’re gonna love not-dating me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll treat you right. I’ll make sweet love to you and we won’t have to get all serious and involved, but it’ll still be awesome.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Very funny. I’m going now. Thanks for lunch.”

A week after her meeting with Finn, Camille still couldn’t stop thinking about him—the brush of his hands and his slow, sexy smile that melted her thoughts into incoherence. The timbre of his voice when he leaned in close to say something. The light in his eyes when he got excited about the found photos. And then the kiss. That kiss.

She kept catching herself gazing out the window, daydreaming, touching her lips. Finn had kissed her. She hadn’t wanted him to stop. It was the kind of kiss she wanted to deepen and explore, to see where it led, because it felt different from any other kiss. Too bad they’d been in a public place where they had to behave.