River frowned. “Oh.” He opened his menu again. “What… um, else would you recommend?”

Jess gaped at him. “Do not tell me you were going to get the same thing.”

River nodded down at his menu. “Drunken noodles?”

“They’re great,” she confirmed. “Let’s do soup for two and the two entrées.” She looked at River. “Want a beer or anything?”

He seemed genuinely tickled by the way she took charge. “Water’s good.”

They handed their menus to Rama, and Jess stared at her date across the table. “But really: you were not going to get the duck.”

“I was.”

She didn’t know where the urge to laugh-scream came from, but she swallowed it down with a cold gulp of ice water.

“Did you work today?” he asked stiffly, clearly hoping she’d forgotten what she’d asked before they were interrupted. Frankly, if he didn’t want to answer, Jess probably didn’t want to hear the truth anyway.

“Nana’s always been a stickler that if I don’t have to work, Saturday is a family day.”

“You live with your grandmother?” he asked.

“Yes and no. Nana Jo and Pops own the apartment complex. They live in the bungalow, and I live in the apartment across the courtyard.”

“With your daughter?” he confirmed, and she nodded. “What’s her name?”

After a second’s pause, Jess shook her head. Unease twisted through her.

“I know she’s off-limits as far as the experiment,” he said. “That was just me asking about family. Sharing.” He paused, smiling playfully. “For example, I have two meddling sisters.”

“Oh, you’re lucky then. Meddling women keep the world running.”

“They’d love that.” He laughed, warm and clear. “Both older: Natalia and Pilar. Both overbearing.”

“The youngest. Huh.” Jess sipped her water. “I would have lost that bet.”

Amusement lifted the corner of his mouth. “Why’s that?”

Rama materialized again with a large steaming bowl of soup. He placed it between them and they shared a few moments of easy silence as they dished up their portions, passing the chili sauce and condiments across the table.

Jess bent to smell the contents of her bowl—the tangy, pungent broth was one of her favorite comfort foods—and registered that River had just mirrored her movement precisely.

He noticed at almost the same time and straightened in his chair. “Why are you surprised I’m the youngest?” he asked, moving on.

“Youngest children are usually less ‘intense,’ ” she said with a smile, using his own description against him. “You uptight perfectionists tend to be oldest children.”

“I see.” His laugh rolled through her, and he bent, taking a bite of soup. The deeply sexual groan he let escape when he tasted was destined to haunt Jess’s best and worst dreams.

“What about you?” he asked. “Any siblings?”

She shook her head. “Only child.”

He took another bite. “I guess we’d have both lost a bet, then. I would have said oldest, with at least one sibling.”

“Why?”

“You seem responsible, smart, conscientious. Bossy. I imagine you emulating your parents and—”