Steve studied the appetizer. He couldn’t identify it, but it looked inedible. “I give up. What the hell is that... stuff?”
Kathryn smirked. “Not much of a gourmet, are we? It’s calamari.”
Understanding dawned. “Squid.”
“Exactly. Now we’ll see whether I really do have you eating out of my hand.” Katie picked up one of the slippery critters, dipped it the accompanying marinara sauce, and raised it to his lips. “Open up.”
Crap! He hated calamari. He’d tried them in Italy, and in his opinion, they had the consistency and taste of rubber. “The things I do for you,” he grumbled.
“The things you won’t do for me,” she answered with an intimate smile.
He leaned toward her, opened his mouth and accepted her dubious offering, licking the sauce off her fingers as she withdrew them. Then he looked into her eyes. “The difference between me and the stingrays is, I won’t leave when you run out of squid.”
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