“You look good,” he says. “You always do.” “Thanks.” I clasp my hands behind me, gripping my purse to keep from reaching for him again. That simple mingling of our fingers was better than a kiss in some ways, and I want to hold on to it. “I assume you didn’t bring me back here to compliment my outfit.” “No, I brought you back here because you weren’t even going to speak to me.” One side of his mouth quirks up. “It defeats the purpose of me arranging ways to see you if I don’t actually get to see you.”
