As the server came to my side of the table, he set the same hard toast things on my plate, but mine were topped with ham and cream cheese.

“Because you don’t eat olives, sir,” the server said before turning to leave.

“You don’t eat olives?” Nan asked, studying my plate.

I might have been in love with Cope at that moment. “Uh, no. I don’t,” I replied, with one of my grins that won me women’s phone numbers everywhere. “But I might change my mind after watching you get all excited over them like that.”

Nan smirked and took a bite of her nasty olive thing. I followed her lead and ate my safe ham and cheese spread on crusty bread thing. I guessed Cope didn’t want me blowing my cover by vomiting olives everywhere. Smart man.

When the wineglasses were filled, Nan once again beamed at me. The red wine they poured into her glass was—no surprise—her favorite and not easily found in the States. Of course. Nan wouldn’t drink a wine easily found at the grocery store like the rest of the folks in Florida.

The main course wasn’t anything I recognized. Nan was, of course, thrilled when the server announced halibut filets in a phyllo wrap garnished with lemon scallion sauce. I was skeptical. I liked fish and lemon, but the other stuff was sketchy.

“Was this prepared by Bleu Chevalier?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

The server gave her a small smile. “Yes, as was the rest of the meal.”

Nan turned her awed gaze to me. “Not only did you choose my favorite foods and take the time to know what each one was, but you hired my favorite chef. No one can prepare halibut the way Bleu does.”

Damn, Cope was the man. Jesus, he had even gotten the chef she loved. I was in! She’d be in love with me before the night was over. No telling what other surprises Cope had in store for us. “I’m trying to show you I’m in this time. Completely,” I said.

Nan studied me a moment before nodding her head in acceptance. “I see that.”

He’d done it. He had won Nan over for me. She was mine now. I could finish this, and we could all move on with our lives. Nan would be safe, and I would be living a life of excitement and thrills. I just had to prove myself this time around. Thanks to Cope, I was going to get that chance.

Nan

Although he had gone above and beyond anything I’d ever experienced from a man, I didn’t invite him in. I wasn’t going to fall into bed with him again. I didn’t trust my heart not to get involved too fast. And maybe after the kiss he gave me outside, I wasn’t all in just yet. Sure, he’d just given me an incredibly romantic night, and that should have had me panting to get his clothes off, but it hadn’t. Something was missing.

The rush of excitement or anticipation, maybe? I wasn’t sure. I just knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping with Major tonight. Not yet. I needed to want him that way first. I wasn’t going to have sex with him just to thank him for the thoughtful evening.

The kiss, it just . . . wasn’t it. There was an emptiness to it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t feel what I wanted to feel. What a girl expects to feel. I just felt lonely. My heart felt alone.

Major had been expecting an invitation to come inside. I’d seen that on his face, and when I told him good night and left him on the doorstep, he was shocked. I wasn’t trying to punish him or play hard to get. I simply didn’t want more tonight. The food had been delicious, and the evening had been perfectly planned.

Still, I wasn’t ready to move to that next step. I wanted our kisses to mean more. For my toes to curl and my heart to race. I wanted to fear what came next but want it all the same.

I wanted what I’d tasted with Gannon. He’d ruined me. He’d shown me something that was unattainable. Was expecting it from someone else even fair? He’d been a fraud. He was going to be a father and had done to some other girl exactly what he’d done to me, but he was leaving her pregnant and alone.

Gannon was not part of a fairy tale. But I was afraid he’d set a bar so high no one would ever touch it again. I had to let his memory go and accept reality. The one where a guy took me to a private garden I loved and served me all my favorite foods. That was my reality, and although his kisses didn’t make me dizzy with need, they were real. That was my last thought as I drifted off to sleep.

The darkness covered me, and although I couldn’t see him there, I felt him, smelled him. My body reacted to him. I should be terrified or at least concerned, but I felt no fear. My heart leaped at the thought of seeing him, of feeling him close to me. An ache I recognized began to build, and I reached for him in the thickness of the night.

“Shhh,” a deep voice replied, and I stilled. I’d do whatever he told me to do. Just so he wouldn’t leave me. Knowing all I did about him, I still wanted him in my dreams. It was safe to have him here. To hold him close to me. To inhale his scent, which I craved so deeply it was a part of me.

“Please,” I whimpered when he didn’t move in closer.

“You miss me?” he asked, in a whisper that was meant to strike fear yet only brought anticipation for what was to come.

“Yes,” I replied honestly. There was no reason to lie in a dream. I could be honest with him here. I could be honest with me. No judgment or reality to cloud my choices.

“You kissed him,” he said, in an almost condemning tone. As if he was displeased.

I wanted to remind him that he had no right to stop me. He’d let me go so easily. But I didn’t. I was afraid he’d vanish. “He was thoughtful. He made me feel special. I don’t get that. Ever.” The condemnation in my own tone was just as thick.