‘Forget about it.’
‘It won’t take a minute.’ She turned back to look at him. ‘I just have to dish it up. I won’t stay, if that’s what’s—’
‘I’m not hungry.’
She forced herself to hold his unreadable gaze. ‘Will you be hungry tomorrow night, do you think?’
His eyes moved away from hers. ‘I’ll make my own arrangements with regards to food in future.’
‘Fine.’ She let out a stormy breath. ‘I’ll just get the dogs and be on my way.’
* * *
‘So how did the meal go down last night?’ Chloe asked the next morning. ‘Did you tickle Rafe Caffarelli’s tastebuds?’
Poppy kept her gaze averted as she went about getting the tearoom ready for business. She had used concealer that morning when she put on some make-up but it hadn’t done much to disguise the stubble rash on her chin. It looked like she’d been scrubbing at her face with a handful of steel wool. ‘There is something terribly defective about that man’s tastebuds,’ she said as she swished back the last of the curtains to let the watery sunshine in.
‘But you didn’t make anything sweet for him, did you?’
‘No, of course not.’ Had her mouth been too sweet for him? Poppy pushed the thought aside as she crossed the room to get the napkins out of the old pine dresser drawer. ‘He’s just one of those difficult to please customers we get from time to time.’
Chloe’s gaze narrowed. ‘What happened to your face?’
‘Nothing, just a bit of an allergy,’ Poppy said shutting the drawer firmly. ‘I probably leant too close to the honeysuckle or something.’
‘Since when have you been allergic to honeysuckle?’ Chloe came over and peered at Poppy’s chin like a scientist examining a ground-breaking discovery in the laboratory. ‘You’ve got beard rash!’
Poppy jerked her head away. ‘It’s not beard rash.’
‘It so is beard rash.’ Chloe grinned at her. ‘He kissed you, didn’t he? What was it like?’
Poppy pursed her lips and started placing the napkins by each setting. ‘I’d rather not discuss it.’
‘Did he want to sleep with you?’ Chloe asked. ‘Is that why you’re all uppity about it? Did he put the hard word on you or something?’
‘No, he did not put the hard word on me,’ Poppy said tightly. ‘He told me kissing me was a mistake, or words to that effect.’
Chloe blinked. ‘A mistake?’
‘I’m not his type.’ Poppy leaned over the table near the window to put the last napkin down and straightened. ‘Not that I want to be his type or anything—it’s just there’s a way to let a girl down gently without savaging her self-esteem in the process.’
Chloe angled her head quizzically. ‘So, let me get this straight: you wanted to sleep with him but he knocked you back?’
‘I’m not saying I would’ve slept with him, exactly...’
‘But you were tempted.’
‘A little.’
Chloe raised her brows.
‘OK...a lot,’ Poppy said as she exhaled a breath.
‘I expect he’s a very good kisser.’
Poppy’s insides gave a funny little tug and a twist as she thought about Rafe’s determined mouth on hers. ‘The best.’
‘Which you can say from such a position of authority because you’ve kissed...how many men is it now?’