Dare to Touch by Carly Phillips

she’d tell him. If not, she’d wait, because if anything was a mood killer, that would be. And despite the get-to-know-each-other game, the stage had been set for seduction. And she wanted that too.
    He remained silent, waiting for an answer.
    “Okay,” she murmured.
    He grinned. “And so we begin. Do you like sweet potatoes?” he asked, taking her off guard. From the grin on his face, he knew it too.
    His question had the desired effect. She relaxed and laughed. “Yes, I love them.”
    He picked up what looked like an orange tater tot and held it in front of her. “Open.”
    She leaned forward and parted her lips. He popped the potato inside. She deliberately closed her mouth around his finger.
    His gaze narrowed and he drew in a shallow breath. She sucked on his salty digit briefly before letting go, and she chewed the delicious food, closing her eyes and moaning as she savored the explosion of sweet potato flavor.
    “Do not make that sound unless you want me to act on it,” he said gruffly.
    She couldn’t hold back a grin. “Sorry.”
    “No, you’re not. Now … favorite color?” he asked, again surprising her. Was he building up to the more difficult, personal questions?
    “Turquoise.”
    “I should have known it wouldn’t be just blue.”
    She shrugged. “What’s yours?” she asked, picking up a piece of pita bread and dipping it into hummus.
    “Navy.”
    She smiled and held out the bread, allowing him to take a bite. He played nice and didn’t touch her fingers with his mouth, but she squirmed, thinking of the possibility.
    “Your turn to think up a question,” he said when he finished chewing.
    “Favorite holiday and why?” she asked.
    “July Fourth. Love the fireworks.”
    He chose a generic holiday, not one associated with warm, family feelings, making her feel bad.
    She sampled a bite of a chicken wrap and was mortified when sauce ended up on her face. Before she could grab a napkin, he swiped the sauce with his finger and licked the remainder off, his gaze never leaving hers.
    “Favorite holiday?” he asked without missing a beat.
    That was easy. “Thanksgiving because no matter what my father did, my mom always made sure we had a traditional family dinner,” she said honestly.
    Shadows flickered behind his eyes, and she knew she’d been right. He didn’t have fun family holidays to look back on.
    They continued to eat and exchange tidbits of information. Favorite book, song, type of movie. They both liked action films, and he was glad she didn’t pick sappy romantic comedies. By the time they finished eating or, rather, by the time they finished feeding each other, they had a solid knowledge of their likes and dislikes, and she realized they had a lot in common. They’d also have to compromise on sports during non-football season as she wasn’t a basketball fan and Dylan was.
    “I’m full,” she said, unable to eat another bite.
    “One more question.”
    “I love dogs, not cats, but my building doesn’t allow pets,” she said, guessing at what had to be the only subject they hadn’t covered.
    “Have you ever been in love?” he asked, his expression schooled and unreadable.
    She blinked in surprise. “Was that your plan? Ask the easy questions, lull me into a false sense of security, and then hit me hard?”
    “I have to answer the same question,” he reminded her.
    She blew out a long breath. “I thought I was. But then I saw the type of person he really was, and I realized I couldn’t possibly be in love with someone who could—cheat.” She chickened out at the last minute, opting for the truth, just not all of it.
    Dylan frowned at her answer. “Your boyfriend cheated on you?” he asked.
    “I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.” She looked away, embarrassed.
    “Hey. It’s no reflection on you. It’s his stupidity.”
    “Thank you.” She met Dylan’s dark gaze. “I have a different question for you to answer.”
    A muscle ticked in his