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I took a slice, broke off a piece, and nearly groaned with how good it tasted.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Back to Schön…”
I made a face similar to the one I had when the wine and brine met in my mouth.
“Shekissedme. And, actually, I stopped herbeforeit happened.”
“I don’t care.” I took a hefty sip of the Pinot Noir, then dished some of the beef tartare onto my plate.
“If you didn’t care, why did you hide in the lavatory for asecondtime?”
“I wasn’t hiding. It just so happens to be the only place I can get any privacy.”
“What about slamming the door?”
“It was an accident.” I spooned spätzle onto my plate.
“I’m not interested in Schön.”
“Like I said?—”
“I know. You don’t care. Except, what was that kiss?”
“You kissed me,” I said, repeating my thoughts from a moment ago, then took another bite of bread.
“You kissed back.”
“Severelapse in judgment. As I said, it can never happen again.” I leveled a glare at him. “Understood?”
“I’m sorry about suggesting there was something between you and Z. I know there wasn’t,” he said rather than respond to me.
“He mentored me.” I hated feeling as though I had to defend any relationship to him.
“It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Per usual.”
He grinned, which made me want to either slap him or kiss him again. I couldn’t decide which.
“About Schön…” he began.
“Haven’t we covered that topic ad nauseam?”
He chuckled and dished some of each of the foods onto his plate. “Raclette?” he asked.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“I know you don’t care, but I have no interest whatsoever in Schön.”
“So you said.”
“More, don’t you find it bizarre that an agent would make a play for her soon-to-be commander hours after meeting him?”
“Doesn’t it happen to you all the time?”