Zane Jennings was up to no good. His gaze landed on her, a little wicked. "Am I being that obvious? You can't tell?"
He tilted his head, propping his arm on his knee. An inscrutable smile played on his lips as he stared at her, then slowly pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It was the move of a total rogue, yet he carried it with a uniquely stylish, reckless charm.
Erin Lowell straightened up, shrinking back a little. "Zane Jennings, you're not planning something, are you?"
"And what would that 'something' be?"
Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to have an inkling but didn't dare confirm it. "I don't know."
Zane Jennings raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the chair, a hint of wildness surfacing in his expression. "All I'm after is a couple of meals from you. You call that 'planning something'?"
'Just meals?'
Erin Lowell pursed her lips, realizing she might have misunderstood. "Sorry," she explained, "I thought you were—"
