"You're going to be so fat," she agrees and leans over the table to bite the steak off the fork, slowly, slowly wiggling it off with her teeth before chewing it thoughtfully and arching a brow when it isn't half bad. "Well, hell, look at that," she says, cutting up her own steak and deliberately ignoring his question.

Not until they've eaten; that's the rule. "Wish I had good red wine to go with this," she sighs, crossing her legs smoothly and focusing on the dinner.