She put her fork down. "That was perfect." She smiled. She looked at him, stay calm, stay in control, don't get nervous, don't ruin such a lovely evening. "I really enjoyed this evening. Great company and wonderful food. Thank you."
"My pleasure." His eyes twinkled. Even now, rehashing the last few hours, he wondered why he had not seen this woman's real nature when he lived here before. She was definitely clever given the way she discussed various topics. Laced with humour, with lots of empathy, and talking to her, was so different. She was intelligent. Funny. Beautiful. "We should do this more often." He said firmly.
"Really?" She looked him straight in the eyes.
He nodded and chuckled. "Yes. I really enjoyed your company." And his mind registered, that he actually wanted to do more than talk to her. He glanced at her lips, and wondered, quite idiotically whether he'd ever have the opportunity to kiss her
She wondered about that light in his eyes, it had flared again when she said, "Me too."
"Who would have thought we could sit down together, just the two us, have dinner, talk about personal stuff and have a great time."
She smiled. "Must be the food!"
"Of course." Something about her fascinated him, he acknowledged silently. He watched her eyes, and he thought he could ruin the evening by acting on his wishes. Hold her close. And kiss her. For starters. But that thought had circled in his brain during this dinner. He got to his feet, pushed his chair back, came around the table and reached for her plate.
"I can take it to the kitchen."
He shook his head. "No, no. Stay. I am just going to take it to the kitchen."
She glanced up, when he hadn't carried on. "Everything ok?" She gulped, realised he was standing close enough to kiss him, if she just reach forward.
He reluctantly carried on with his clarification, "Thought I could get us coffee?"
"Well, I can do that." She dusted her clammy hands, brushed them against the skirt of her dress and got to her feet. Too close, she thought when he remained in that space. She squirmed. Caged by her chair, the table and him, her only options were to take side way step. Albeit awkward, brushed against the edge of the table, knocked her knee against the corner of her chair. "Excuse me." She reached for the back of her chair to steady her.
He grinned at her sheepishly, "Sorry." He reached her plate again. "Come on. You make coffee and I will rinse the plates and stack them in the dishwasher!"
He picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen. This evening, this dinner confirmed there was something going on here, between him and her. The question is, will he acted on it?
She used her shoulder to hold the door open and allowed him to pass her, but he also used that opportunity, to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you."
She blinked. Stunned, immobile. But he was already in the kitchen. She came forward, looked at him in total bemusement. But he missed that look.
She was still at the door. She frowned as she contemplated options, like asking him why he kissed her, albeit a peck on the cheek and her other option was to flee. She hadn't come up with a suitable or acceptable excuse. Her brain was scrambled. Because of that peck-of-a-kiss.
He opened the tap and started to rinse the plates. He looked over his shoulder, and asked with a wide grin, "Hey, what about my coffee?"
She rolled her eyes. Walked over to the kettle, flicked on the switch and went to collect the mugs.
She placed the mugs on the table, "Why did you kiss me, just now?" Again she rolled her eyes. She did not feign embarrassment; she was blushing when he turned around.
"What?" He pretended to show remorse, by shrugging sheepishly, "That peck on your cheek?" He opened the door to the dishwashing machine and placed both plates in.
"Yes." It had taken a couple of seconds to defog her brain and to think things through. Just a peck. Just a peck. A platonic kiss. Nothing more. Her spine remained straight as she kept her features blank and kept her eyes on him.
He closed the door to the dishwashing machine. "A thank you for opening the door." He grinned. "And a thank you for this evening." Braced his hips on the edge of the counter.
She snorted. "You brought dinner and the wine." She replied quietly, doing her best not to fidget or squirm. "I should be thanking you."
"Ok." He said and kept his gaze on her. She had the kind of beauty that was timeless: Classic bone structure, flawless skin, lustrous hair and gorgeous eyes. Things that he only recognised after he, his grandfather and his sister had left. But his heart corrected his brain, he had recognised that before, but was determined to not acknowledge it so he had ignored the impact on his heart.
Thanking her ability to keep her emotions to herself, honed during her childhood, she snorted. "Ok, what?" But on the inside, he was turning her insides to jelly.
"You can thank me!" He turned his head, tapped his cheek with his index finger.
To her credit Regan did not drop eye contact. "You want me to kiss you?"
His eyes danced in response and he nodded and then grinned. He pointed at his cheek, turned his head, "or here" he tapped his other cheek. Every cell in his body seemed to be buzzing with an energy, in anticipation.
She fought to maintain her poise. "You definitely need coffee, obviously drunk too much wine at dinner." She tried to steady her breathing, tried to focus on the breath and headed for the pantry to retrieve the coffee.
He replied with a wink, "Drunk, but not on wine!"
"Are you flirting with me?" She asked him, just as the kettle whistled.
He replied, with easy charm, "Yup."
She giggled with delight and nervousness.
Gray asked, "Do you want me to flirt with you?"
She batted her eyelashes at him, and said, "Perhaps after coffee." She turned away to get a spoon from the drawer. She licked surreptitiously at her dry lips.
He laughed.
She took a breath and returned to the table, with the kettle and the spoon.
"You know what?"
She quirked an eyebrow.
"I can't believe I missed this facet of you when I lived here before."
"Ah, that might be because you were determined to see me as a miser!" She passed a mug of coffee to him.
"Well, at least I saw this side of you when I lived here before." He grinned and tacked on, "Thanks" as he took the mug.
"Which side?" She swallowed, and then drew herself together. This was spiralled out of control. She used the kettle as a reason to move away.
"Feisty!" He chuckled.
She laughed and did not take umbrage.
Gray hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he said, "I really enjoyed this evening."
"Me too." She returned to the table and picked up her mug.
"A toast?" Gray asked, his eyes looking anywhere but at her, was enough to get his pulse racing.
Regan clarified quietly, "A toast?"
"Yes." He grinned automatically "To mark our first month anniversary."
"We should have done that when we had wine." She reminded herself to take her time speaking, to keep her tone well modulated, despite the fact her heart was racing.
"True." He nodded. "But we were too busy talking!" And tonight she had listened, her eyes dancing with laughter at his corny one liners, her eyes thoughtful when they talked about more meaningful topics. It was so different from when they lived here before.
Neither said a word for several seconds as they acknowledged that difference.
They had turned the corner during their dinner tonight, they both recognised that. Talked about personal matters and public topics: Revealing values, attitudes, ethics, instincts, standards, principles and views. And he had never considered himself the romantic type, well not until now. But now, during that dinner, he acknowledged he was so in love with her. He already knew he wanted a family, wanted children, but was not willing to do that without his soulmate. But tonight, he knew he had found his soulmate.