Page 67 of Dear John

I sighed, not at all surprised that he knew about it. “It could have gone better. Kavanaugh showed up.”

“Ah, well, that explains the attitude.”

We moved down to the pickup counter and waited for our order. I expected him to pry some more or poke at me for being with Kavanaugh. It wasn’t that long ago that he told me Kavanaugh would never commit to me. Well, he had. Maybe a little too much.

“So…what have you been up to? Killed anyone else lately?”

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was irritating how good-looking he was all the time. He made a suit look sinful, and that scruff along his jaw…not that I was comparing him to Kavanaugh. I loved Kavanaugh.

Most days. Maybe not today.

Today, I was pissed as hell at him. I didn’t even want to see him. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love him. I just wanted things to be different. I wanted him to trust me and not burst into my meetings and pretend I couldn’t vet a company on my own. I’d done my research. They were perfectly legitimate.

“Isla.”

“Huh?” I asked, jerking my head toward IKE.

“Your food.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled, grabbing the order and my coffee. I followed IKE over to a table and sat across from him, stuffing the first bite of muffin into my mouth. It was filled with cream cheese and tasted so freaking good that I moaned around the second bite. It wasn’t until the third bite that I noticed IKE watching me carefully, his eyes tracing every move.

“What?”

“Do you always eat like you’re about to have an orgasm?”

I covered my mouth to keep from spitting out my food as I choked on it. “Excuse me?”

He quirked an eyebrow at me, taking a long, slow sip of coffee. “I had no idea muffins were that good.”

“Have you never eaten a muffin?”

He shook his head slowly, then leaned forward and opened his mouth. I had no idea what to do. He was just sitting there with his mouth open in a coffee house. That was weird, right?

“You want the rest of my muffin?”

“You don’t want to share?”

“It has my spit on it.”

He got a wicked gleam in his eyes before snatching it out of my hands and blatantly licking the spot where my lips had just been before shoving it in his mouth.

Okay, that was not at all sexy.Liar.

I cleared my throat and moved on to the next pastry, hoping he wouldn’t make a spectacle of it in any way. “So, you’re here for work,” I said, changing the subject. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what Kavanaugh wanted you to look into.”

“I’m looking into a hitman.”

I was about to shove a scone in my mouth, but instantly lost my appetite. “Why?”

“To find out if he’s coming after you.”

My blood chilled as I stared at him, waiting for him to tell me this was a joke. It had to be. Why would anyone put a hit on me? I was just a graphic designer. But instead of pointing at me and laughing about the joke he just pulled on me, he pointed at my scone.

“Are you going to eat that?”

When I didn’t answer, he picked it up and started eating it without a care in the world.

I shook my head slightly, confused by the change of events. “How—what—” I didn’t understand. Why would he say something like that? “Who would…do that?”