Mia's mouth went dry.
"I don't think so." The answer came too quickly.
"Would you." He said it quietly, more to himself than to her, his fingers still resting over hers, warm and unmoving. He wasn't letting go. He didn't seem to have noticed he hadn't. "I don't usually say things like that. I don't know why I said it now."
"People say strange things at dinner."
"Not me." A small, self-deprecating almost-smile, gone as quickly as it came. "Ask anyone who works for me. I don't do small talk, and I definitely don't tell near-strangers they feel familiar." His eyes searched her face, careful, unhurried, the way you'd study something you were certain you'd seen before and couldn't place the memory of. "You're sure we've never met."
"I think I'd remember meeting you."
It wasn't a lie, not
