He scowled. “You don’t buy into the crap your mother fed you out there, do you?”
So much for maintaining any sort of dignity. “Mom never feeds me anything.”
“Then she’s a fool.”
An involuntary smile tugged at her mouth. His comment did wonders for her self-esteem, but he didn’t need to know that. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to insult a woman’s mother?”
Marc set the plate of cheesecake aside and caught her hand in his. “I’m not worried about her feelings.”
He stroked her fingers, his touch tender, as if he cared. Impossible. Hot guys with killer smiles and muscles for days did not worry about overweight women who wore conservative wardrobes and worked at the public library. She tugged her hand free, scolding herself for thinking the sexual sparks shooting from him were anything beyond her imagination. “Can I get you some coffee or iced tea?”
“Quit changing the subject, Darcy.”
“I’m not. It’s just—you make me uncomfortable.”
He smiled. “Is that a bad thing?”
Marc scooped up another bite of cheesecake and held the loaded fork toward her. “Live dangerously.” When she hesitated, he brushed the rounded tines over her lips. “Come on, Darcy, let the tart creaminess melt in your mouth. Let it slide down your throat. No one’s here but you and me.”
She couldn’t resist. The pretzel crust hit her tongue, crisp and salty, moments before the smooth filling spread across her taste buds in a burst of lime and subtle orange liquor. The tangy citrus, combined with his presence, had an aphrodisiac quality. “Mmm.” Her eyes closed of their own accord. Her nipples tightened. Sensual pleasure swirled in her stomach then swept downward.
He leaned closer. So close his warm breath tickled over her lips. “Another?”
Her eyes flew open. God! What kind of person practically had an orgasm over a bite of dessert?