He pushed his plate back and placed his elbows on the table, leaning toward her. “No. Reading my mind. So what am I thinking now?”
Her eyes widened slightly when they met his. She saw humor in their depths…and heat.
She looked away.
“We should hurry. Brendan will be getting back to his room soon, and we still have to pick out invitations,” she said before she took a large gulp of ice water.
“I was actually thinking—among other things—about where we should have this little soiree,” he stated, ignoring her attempt at changing the subject.
Heat flooded her cheeks. His small smile told her he knew precisely what she’d thought he’d been thinking.
“What about having the party at my place? There’s plenty of space, and I have that large deck and a half-dozen heat lamps to keep it warm,” Eric suggested.
“No.”
His expression hardened. One second, all easy playboy-doctor charm; the next, as arrogant as a prince.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Colleen thought of how to respond while she chewed. She couldn’t just tell him point-blank that something about his luxurious Buena Vista home on Sunset Beach put her on edge. It seemed a constant reminder of the past, the crash, the drastic change in both the Kavanaughs’ and Reyeses’ circumstances.
She couldn’t tell him that her cursed Kavanaugh pride was responsible.
“It’s large, all right. Maybe too large,” Colleen said. “The party should be a little more intimate.”
“We could rent out a room at the Captain and Crew, or Bistro Campagne, I guess,” Eric mumbled, even though the scowl that shadowed his mouth said he still wasn’t thrilled with the way she’d shot down his first suggestion.
“Too expensive. We all don’t have your bank roll, Reyes.” She saw his eyes spark in further irritation, so she spoke before he could rebut her. “What about at my place? I know it’s not Buena Vista Drive, but I enjoy entertaining there. It’s large enough for a party, but intimate and comfortable, as well.”
“Where do you live?” he asked slowly.
“On Sandcastle Lane.”
“How long have you lived there?”
She thought while she chewed and swallowed. “A couple of years now.”
“So, you and the kids moved there after your husband died?”
“The house on Fifth Street was too large for just the three of us,” she replied. She wasn’t normally uncomfortable talking about Darin, but something about doing so with Eric made her stomach flutter nervously. In order to sidetrack him from pursuing the topic, she eyed his chicken tagine speculatively.
“Go on,” he said dryly, shoving his half-eaten lunch toward her. She skewered a piece of succulent chicken, popped it into her mouth and made a sound of appreciation. Eric chuckled. She grinned while she chewed.
“Never one to hold back, are you?” he mused. “Just as passionate about your likes as you are your dislikes. I admire that.”
Colleen paused in her chewing and swallowed. She set down her fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Thanks.” She took a sip of water, a smile lingering on her mouth.
“What?” Eric asked, his sharp eyes noticing her repressed grin.
“Nothing,” Colleen murmured. He continued to stare at her, one eyebrow cocked in a query. “It’s just that you praise my passionate temperament in such a cool, levelheaded manner.”
“So you think I’m cold? Dispassionate?” he stated more than asked.
Yet again, she blushed. His seemingly bland questions had brought to mind that kiss on Sunset Beach.
No. She was far from thinking Eric was cold.