Emma’s nose scrunched in confusion. All night long, Benedict had been charming and jovial, but now his tone was almost reverent.
Danielle extended her hand, and Emma could have sworn she saw sparks when their fingers made contact. Actual sparks.
They both jerked back.
Emma lifted an eyebrow and her gaze found Cassidy’s just as he looked at hers. For once, their eye contact was free of subtext. For the first time in a long time, they were on the same page.
The page of confusion.
“Have you two met?” Emma asked, unable to keep her curiosity at bay.
“No,” Danielle said, still sounding dazed.
Benedict wordlessly shook his head.
Emma’s eyes met Cassidy’s again, wondering if he realized what was going on here. Emma was pretty sure that his girlfriend and her date had just stumbled upon the elusive insta-love.
Also known as love at first sight.
Also known as They are complete idiots if they think it will ever last.
Still, Emma knew when she was beat. She and Benedict had gotten along fine. More than fine. But the air was practically sizzling with sexual tension, and it wasn’t between her and Benedict.
Emma’d bet that even Camille hadn’t seen this turn of events coming.
Emma cleared her throat, just as Cassidy glanced down at Danielle. “Shall we let these two get back to their date?” he said.
“Oh! Sure!” Danielle said, forcing a smile for Emma.
“It was nice meeting you,” Benedict rushed to say.
“You, too.”
Danielle and Benedict held each other’s gaze for just a second longer than necessary before she followed Cassidy toward the lobby.
Danielle didn’t look back. If she did, she would have caught Benedict staring after her.
Emma sighed. All chances of a perfect first-date kiss had just evaporated.
His gaze swung back around to her. “They seem nice.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Emma said.
“They been seeing each other long?”
Emma didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. Ten minutes ago, she’d been ready to offer this guy her lips.
Now she offered him her hand. “Thanks for dinner. I had a really nice time.”
He glanced down at the hand, then back at her face. He wasn’t so gauche as to look relieved at the lack of a good night kiss, but he didn’t exactly seem disappointed, either.
Benedict took the hand and lifted it to his lips in an old-fashioned way that was sweet and gentlemanly, and did absolutely nothing for her.
He made a noncommittal statement about calling her soon, and she made a similarly noncommittal murmur about looking forward to it.
Five minutes later, Emma had poured herself a hefty glass of Merlot and an emergency handful of Goldfish crackers.
She headed to the guest room she’d claimed as her own and curled up cross-legged on the bed, cellphone in hand as she nipped a Goldfish between her teeth and texted her sister. After Emma had moved to New York, Daisy used to call her every three to four days like clockwork. They’d talk about their respective jobs, men, and whichever singing/dancing TV show was hot at the moment, and Daisy would gently remind Emma that “blond highlights don’t maintain themselves.” Emma had eventually given up on highlights altogether, something that Daisy lamented every year at their annual New Orleans weekend together, since Daisy hated the city, and Emma hated anything having to do with North Carolina.
But then Daisy had gotten married.