Free Friends to Lovers by Christi Barth Page A

“Your seat awaits, milady. Prepare to be undone by this feast for the senses.”
    Oh. Oh God. Oh my.
    * * *
    This was going to be fun. Looked like Mira hadn’t skimped on the snacks. Gib was fairly certain that he recognized the magical combination of John Coltrane and Miles Davis on the stereo. Not to mention that, given a choice of anyone to relax with, he’d always choose Daphne’s easy company.
    “Dessert’s at the opposite end of the table, so this must be where we start.” He sat down next to Daphne, close enough to brush her shoulder with his arm. Bubbles the color of cherry blossoms flitted in sparkling rows to the top of the champagne flutes. “I’d say going with pink champagne is overkill. But if we’re stuck drinking any rose, then Veuve Clicquot is the way to go.”
    “You’re such a snob.”
    “Discriminating,” he corrected. His favorite comfort food was the ubiquitous fish and chips, with a couple of pints of Boddingtons to wash it down. Obviously not the profile of a snob. But bad wine could be like drinking turpentine. Life was too short to torture his taste buds.
    “I’ll drink anything with bubbles in it. Pour club soda into fruit punch and I’d be happy.” Daphne lifted her glass to take a sip. Gib barely snatched her wrist in time to stop her.
    “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Letting the bubbles tickle my nose while they’ve still got some oomph.”
    “We need to toast. A romantic dinner always begins with a toast.” He raised his glass. “To my beautiful companion, whose laugh is as effervescent as our drinks.” Cheesily romantic to play to the night’s theme, but also true. Once they clinked, he took a sip, noticing that Daphne’s cheeks had flushed to match the champagne. “Are you too warm? Should I go adjust the radiator?”
    She jerked her head to the side, staring down at the heart-shaped printed card next to the plate. “I’m fine.”
    “Then here we go.” Gib picked up the card and read aloud. “‘Figs stuffed with blue cheese. An open fig emulates the female sex organs and is a sexual stimulant.’ Well, she’s not pulling any punches, is she?”
    “Why be subtle? I mean, if two people truly want each other, and hope that sharing a meal will bring them closer, why not just go for it?”
    A viewpoint he’d never, in all his experience, heard uttered from a female’s lips. If it was anyone but Daphne, he’d call it the verbal equivalent of a land mine. “Hmm. I thought women didn’t like the wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, approach.”
    “Don’t get me wrong.” Daphne guzzled half her glass in a single swallow. “Foreplay’s great. Love it.” Her gaze skittered around the room, looking everywhere but at him. Had she drank too much coffee this afternoon? She seemed all hopped up. “What I don’t like is all the gamesmanship leading up to a lip-lock.”
    “I prefer to think of it as a dance.” He picked up the deep-purple fruit, feeling the contrast between the slightly sticky skin and its moist flesh. Slowly he lifted it, waiting until Daphne’s eyes latched on before bringing it to hover even with her lips. She’d swiped red gloss across them, and they looked as full and plump as the fig.
    More often than he liked, Gib caught himself thinking wholly inappropriate thoughts about Daphne’s lips. As a friend, he respected her too much to consciously crave a taste of her luscious mouth. Sexy, smart-aleck Daphne. The only woman he’d ever encountered seemingly immune to his quick charm and quicker smile. But the lust snuck up on him unannounced, like fog stealing through the night. He’d have to be three days in his grave not to notice her earthy, sensuous beauty. So tonight he could partially give in to the simmering curiosity he’d ignored over the years, and have a little otherwise-forbidden fun with her.
    Her lips parted, and he rubbed the fig along the bee-stung bottom lip until she opened enough for him to pop it in. “Well? Does