A petite waitress looked up when he walked in. A grin spread across her face. “Hey, Jack. Sit anywhere that’s free. I’ll bring you some coffee.”
He headed for the only empty booth in the room. “Thanks, Sandy.”
Trudy’s had the classic décor of a 1950s diner, and for all he knew, this was the authentic design. It definitely had the feel of having been in business that long. He sighed and sank into the comfortable hubbub of the place. People talked and laughed, a couple of old curmudgeons who seemed to have taken up permanent residence at the counter were hunched over cups of coffee. Those two guys were here every time he’d been in. Which was a lot since he’d moved to Seattle.
“Laramie.” The soft sound of Selina’s voice had him twisting around in his booth to look at her. The tiredness had finally gotten to him. He was hallucinating. No way was she here.
But she was. The thick fog outside had left droplets of water in her hair, which sparkled in the light. He blinked up at her, then leaned back and gave her a lazy grin. “Stalking me, Detective Grayson? I thought unless my mother waylaid you, or we were grabbing takeout, you were too scared to be seen with me in public outside of work.”
“No, I’m not scared. You know my reasons for keeping our affair quiet, so don’t play the injured party now. And I damn well didn’t stalk you.” She huffed and slid into the booth opposite him, dropping her bag on the seat. “I didn’t even tail you here.”
Sandy came bustling up, two steaming cups in her hands, which she plopped on the table in front of them. “Be back to take your orders in a second.”
When she was gone, Jack turned back to Selina. “Oh, yeah? You just happened to walk into my favorite diner in the city only a few minutes after I did?”
She arched her eyebrows and glanced around. “This is your favorite diner?”
“Yep. Aside from my cousins’ places, of course. I have to say that out of family loyalty.” He propped his elbows on the table. “But this place has the best pot roast on the planet.”
A faint smile creased her lips. “Won’t your mother or grandmother be offended by that statement?”
“Mom’s not much of a cook. She likes the pot roast here, too.” He shrugged and added sugar to his coffee. “Both my grandmothers died before I was born. My paternal grandfather passed about five years ago. So, there’s just Grandpa Jack left.”
“Your namesake, I take it?”
“Yep.” He rubbed a hand over his hair. “What about your grandparents? What were they like?”
She ran a finger around the rim of her coffee mug. “Well, I was born in the Renaissance, so I’m sure they were people who dealt with bad hygiene and no indoor plumbing.”
“You think that’s what they were like, or you know?”
Her gaze was wary when she looked up at him. “What does that mean?”
His impatience with the status quo of their relationship made her response grate on his nerves. “You throw these little factoids out to distract people—I was a nurse in World War II, I was an artist, I lived in France and New Orleans, I was born in the Renaissance. It’s all an illusion that you’re open about yourself. Tell me something real, something that you wouldn’t tell some Magickal you met at a bus stop.”
Her mouth worked for a moment. “I never knew any of my grandparents.”
“No? How old were you when they passed?”
“My mother and her sister were orphaned pretty young, and I never knew who my father was, so ... I also never knew anything about his family. Including his parents.” Her brow furrowed as if she regretted caving to the pressure to answer more personal questions.
Well, that was just too damn bad, wasn’t it? “Were your mom and aunt close?”
“No.” She shook her head and stared down at her coffee. “My mom died before I came of age, but my aunt had disowned her before I was born. No one ever said why, but it was implied that it was because my mother hooked up with a married man and got pregnant.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” She tapped her fingers against the table. “I don’t really talk about—”
“Do you have any other family?” He cut her off without a qualm. As though he’d let her bail out on the conversation now. He had a serious fascination about her, and nothing was going to quench that except more information. The tenacity made him good at his work, but it was a character trait he didn’t bother to repress in his personal life either. At the moment, Selina crossed over into both territories.
“No family.” Her jaw worked for a moment. “My aunt was the last to go, and she despised me. She had to take me in—the family bastard—when Mother died, and she liked to point out how useless an extra, unwed female was. Though she wasn’t above making me her daughter’s nanny until I moved out.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. They’re all gone now.”
That hit him hard. He knew what it was like to lose a parent and a wife. That was difficult enough to deal with, and they weren’t even the last of his family. He still had people to call his own. It occurred to him that while he’d been lonely in his life, he had no idea what it was like to be totally ... alone. Without any connections to anyone. Sympathy squeezed his chest, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her she wasn’t alone anymore.
The urge startled him. He hadn’t felt that kind of desire to comfort and protect since ... his wife. He slammed the door on that thought, rejecting it, and instead focused on the woman before him. A woman who was nothing if not the polar opposite of the one he’d married.
“Shit.” He reached over and covered Selina’s hands with his. They weren’t at work, so she could just deal with it. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Thanks. Me too.” She squeezed his fingers and then withdrew. As she always did. Frustration crawled through him, and he tamped down on that, too. So many reactions when it came to Selina. Overreactions, too. It wasn’t just the sex that was intense—it was everything.
She cleared her throat and grabbed a laminated menu from the rack on their table. “Anyway. You say the pot roast is good?”
“The best.”
“Okay, then. I’ll try that.” She flipped the menu over and ran her fingertip over the dessert section.
“Got a sweet tooth, Grayson?”
She glanced up and met his gaze, and the look on her face sent fire shooting straight to his loins. The moment stretched, grew hotter. His body tightened, and despite any earlier irritation, inevitable lust punched through him. It was all he could do not to drag her out of the restaurant and have her in his car. He wasn’t even sure he could wait until they got home. His cock grew hard, and his hands clenched on the tabletop as he fought the need to touch her. She did nothing to help him as the corners of her mouth curled up in a grin that said she knew exactly what he was thinking, which meant her thoughts had gone along the same lines. Her breathing sped, lifting her breasts into view. Her nipples were tight, and he wanted to suck them, bite them until she begged him for more. Her eyes gleamed, and her fingers continued to stroke over the menu in front of her. He wanted those hands stroking him.
Staring at his lips, she licked hers. “I like it sweet sometimes, yes.”
He opened his mouth to make a purely sexual reply when Sandy came back to take their orders. Food was the last thing on his mind right now, and he was more than ready to leave it at the coffee, but Selina smiled at the waitress. “We’ll both have the pot roast dinner.”
“Soup, salad, or fries with that?”
“Salad for me, with Italian dressing.” Selina gave him an assessing look. “I’m betting fries for him.”
“Jack always has the fries.” Sandy didn’t even glance up as she scribbled on her order pad. “He likes to dip them in the gravy.” She winked at him. “I’ll be by to top off your coffee in a few.”