I started to smile back before I remembered the mission. What is wrong with me?

This wasn’t a leisurely breakfast for two. I needed to act like I was trying to win her over—and do it convincingly enough that Darren and the others bought it when she started warming up to me.

“I’ll trade you a piece of this succulent bacon for one of those mandarin wedges.” I forked a blackened strip and held it out to her.

Quanta wrinkled her nose. “Sabotage.”

“I think it’s a fair trade.”

Her eyebrows lifted as she popped one of the mandarin wedges into her mouth. I couldn’t look away as she rolled her lips together and her tongue flicked out to catch a stray bead of juice.

The motion was innocent enough, but…

I knew I shouldn’t look at her like anything, but the more I watched Quanta, the more she drew me in.

Quanta’s eyes widened as she saw something over my shoulder.

She choked.

I started to stand, but she held up a hand. “Don’t—” She coughed, trying to clear her lungs. “Stay—Just—Over there.”

“Are you all right?” I stood halfway out of my seat, ready to dash over if she couldn’t catch her breath.

She coughed so hard her eyes teared. When she could finally breathe again, she drank from her cup of juice and then violently shook her head like a dog shedding water. Then she glared at me as she rubbed the palms of her hands against her temples. “Whatever you were just thinking, I need you not to think that.”

I’d been thinking that when Quanta licked her lips, she looked a lot less like the girl I was supposed to help and a lot more like a woman I wanted to know.

“Not helping.” Quanta winced and then pressed her forehead to the table. “So not helping.”

Now I had to know what she was seeing.

But I couldn’t ask. Not with our audience.

Tabling that problematic line of thought, I visualized this afternoon and all the mental aerobics she and I were going to have to perform. Eventually, Quanta sat back up and nibbled a few more pieces of fruit, glancing here and there and only occasionally wincing my way.

Her bowl was still half empty when she sighed and pushed it across the table. “Just eat it.”

“It’s yours.” I wasn’t going to steal the food from her mouth, although it did look delicious…

“You love kiwi and I pity you.”

“You pity me?” It shouldn’t be possible, but by the sad shake of her head, she was telling the truth. “Fine.” I speared one of the green fruits with my plastic fork.

And damn. It really was delicious.

“Thank you.” A grin split my face at the absurdity of this all—eating fruit and enjoying her company while hell hung over our heads.