She poked him in the chest. “A surprise is breakfast in bed or flowers for no occasion, not being propositioned by a sitting federal judge in open court. Just so you know for future reference.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for the next lawyer I fall in love with.” Jack struggled to keep a straight face. All he really wanted to do was kiss the hell out of her. For a start.
“I knew I should have made it a condition that you not mention that word again,” she muttered as she grabbed a jacket and her bag.
“What word?”
“You know full well what word.”
Now Jack really wanted to grin. A chink in her armor—she didn’t like being reminded that he was in love with her.
He pretended to consider it as they walked to his car. “Okay, how about this. I won’t mention the L-word on the dinner dates, if you’ll let me use the rather more pleasant euphemism ‘making love’ on the uh, sex dates.”
“You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?” she said.
He laughed. “Just your luck, huh?” He opened her door with a flourish.
She rolled her eyes. Then she shrugged and said, “Yeah, okay. But I don’t have to call it that, do I?”
Jack dragged in a deep breath. One step at a time, he reminded himself. “Not if you don’t want to.”
They talked about the latest political news from City Hall as he drove across to Columbus Boulevard. While he parked, she looked around with interest.
“Dave and Buster’s? You’re kidding, right?” Elise said as they got out of the car.
“I think you’ll find I rarely kid,” he said before he could stop himself.
“Yeah, like that comes as a surprise.” She said it with a smile, though. “I love Dave and Buster’s. I’m so good at pinball.”
“We’ll see about that. I bet I’ve got you beat,” he taunted. Admittedly it had been twenty years, but it had to be like riding a bicycle, right?
He’d managed to find the precise antithesis of his dream first date. He’d pictured someplace quiet, romantic, intimate. Dave & Buster’s was none of those things and then some. The food was okay, and Elise seemed to enjoy it, but the place was noisy and busy. There was no opportunity for a personal conversation. Between the music, flashing lights from the games arcade, and the families with kids running around, he despaired of ever getting her attention.
Still, he knew he’d scored a bull’s-eye. She might not be opening up to him, but she was having fun. She never stopped smiling.
“Now, admit it. Someone put you up to this,” she teased him as they walked over to the games arcade after their meal. “No way you thought of this place on your own. Lemme guess—you asked your clerks.”
They found a spot to wait for a pinball game to free up.
Jack quirked an eyebrow at her. “I would hardly misuse federal funds by asking my law clerks for their recommendations.” She flicked her eyes at him, mocking his pompous tone. “Anyway, I didn’t have to ask. They both volunteered their suggestions. Why they think I need their dating advice I don’t know. The little savages.”
She laughed. “I’ll bite. What were their suggestions?”
“Ms. Riley suggested taking you to The Astral Plane for dinner. In its heyday, I gather it had a fortune-teller on the premises. Ms. Riley, uh, shares Judge King’s rather romantic view of this situation.”
“So how come I’m spared the fortune-teller reading my palm?”
“The place has closed. It seems Ms. Riley’s finances haven’t stretched to dinner out for a while.”
Elise nodded. “And the other one?”
“Mr. Alexander. Yes, well, I suspect his finances are perhaps even sketchier than Ms. Riley’s. He thought cheesesteaks from South Philly, followed by a stroll around the fountain at Logan Circle. He’d read somewhere that it was a good place for a first kiss.”
“Oh, God, please—you didn’t tell them we’d already—you know?” She was blushing, which charmed Jack immensely. Could this be the same woman who’d negotiated their “sex dates” down to specifying the contraception to be used?
“Elise. Really. I didn’t bring up this topic at all. And you may be assured that I did my best to suppress their informality.”
“Good luck with that,” she said. “I remember clerking, and my judge was lucky if I kept a straight face in court.”
“I try to set a more dignified tone.” He grimaced.
“Uh-huh? By falling for a stranger in your first week? Pull the other one, Jack.”
He banished the image of tugging on one of her long, sleek legs. Legs that went from cherry toenails all the way up to… No. He wasn’t going to think about that. What had they been talking about? Oh, right. “It was my third week. The start of my third week.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question. If the clerks didn’t tell you about this place, who did?”
“I have my methods,” he began. Then he grinned. “I looked it up on the Internet. Fifteen best places for a first date.”
“Why would you need to research this at all? You date all the time.”
Jack frowned at her casual tone—just as though his romantic past had nothing to do with her. He shrugged. “It was pretty clear that my usual restaurants weren’t right for you.”
She turned toward him, her smile wider and happier than it had been all night. She opened her mouth to say something just as they spotted someone leaving a pinball machine. They headed over. “Best two out of three?” she asked. “Loser to buy the next round?”
Jack wanted to protest the idea of her paying at all. It was his date, so it should be his dime, but he just nodded. He did insist she go first.
At the end of the evening, he’d beaten her at pinball, she’d beaten him at Skee-Ball, and they’d declared a draw at shuffleboard. Elise was a tough competitor—Jack hadn’t needed to think about letting her win.
They wandered down the street to admire the lights of the Ben Franklin Bridge and Camden across the river. As Elise chatted about a case she’d been working on, Jack looked at her profile. The wind off the river flirted with her hair and she kept tucking it behind her ears. Under the streetlights, her skin—the wonderful pale line of her cheek—looked like the finest silk. Jack ached to curve his arm around her or even kiss that luscious mouth. Basic first date moves. The opportunity was there and it was private by the river, but he sensed he’d undo the goodwill he’d accrued. She was happier and more relaxed with him in this setting, sure, but despite a fun evening, she still felt miles away.
What was it going to feel like sleeping with her? Oh, not just the physical pleasure. He had a pretty good idea about that, after seeing her virtually naked, and having taken a lot of cold showers in the past week.
No, he wondered if she’d be more vulnerable in bed. Less guarded. She’d been an enthusiastic companion this evening, and he could well imagine she’d be as enthusiastic in bed. He just wasn’t any closer to her now than he had been in his chambers three weeks earlier. He knew her to be a clever adversary. His fear was that naked, even sexually sated, she still wouldn’t open up to him.
He shook off his worry. He’d made progress tonight, he knew it. He had to be satisfied with that and not get ahead of himself. This was a marathon, not a sprint.
She’d gone quiet, watching a boat on the silvered water. With a light touch on her arm, he said, “Shall we go back?”
They drove to her house without talking. He wanted to see if she’d mention their next date. Was he supposed to say something? Except it wasn’t his date to organize—it was supposed to be hers. Let her ask.
If she didn’t say anything, he’d just assume it was next Saturday.
He walked her to the door.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked. “I believe the conventional lie is that I’ll make you coffee.”
“I believe ‘coffee’ has to wait for your date.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Next Saturday?”
“Fine.”
&nbs
p; He kissed her, lightly, his hands barely touching her. She surprised him—delighted him—by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into her embrace. Their kisses blossomed to more than a mere meeting of their mouths. She pressed her body against his erection.
He pulled away finally. Of course he’d enjoyed the embrace, reveled in it. He just couldn’t turn off his thoughts, anxious for answers. Why was she kissing him so enthusiastically? Was she interested or just aroused? Did she even know who she was kissing? He had to stop trying to decode her actions.
She peered up at him. “You sure?” She was asking about the “coffee.”
He smiled. “Next Saturday, you get to make all the decisions.” He kissed her one last time. Without thinking, he put all his love into that feather-soft kiss. Scary to let it loose like that.
He really needed to get a leash for his emotions.
The sun was pouring into her bedroom when Elise finally stopped all pretense of sleeping. She was still wound up from the date with Blackjack McIntyre. He couldn’t have picked a better venue than Dave & Buster’s, drat the man. She didn’t want to like him. She wanted to have a lot of hot sex with him and then wave goodbye when he got bored and left.
Instead, she’d had fun. She flopped back on the bed and covered her face with her hand. Fun. Fun at dinner, fun playing games, and way too much fun kissing him.
Something happened just at the end, and she’d closed the door feeling oddly unsettled and uncomfortable. Nothing, not even imagining a very vivid and detailed sequence for their first sex date, had relaxed her. She’d fallen asleep still struggling with her jangled thoughts.
Now all those thoughts came flooding back. Why did he have to have such a dry sense of humor? She’d liked talking to him, even when she could tell he was thinking about his alleged feelings for her. That look of his—the one which meant he was comparing her to a summer’s day or something—should make him seem like an awkward teenager. It didn’t. And she wasn’t sure why not.
She got up finally and went through the motions of her usual Sunday morning. The familiarity of the chores soothed her. Eventually she could think sensibly about the situation.
She stuffed dirty linens into the washing machine and reviewed her efforts to dislodge the judge.
Okay, so he’d managed to surprise her—in a good way—with his choice of a first date. And yes, she’d enjoyed herself. So what? He was creative and insightful. At least she hoped it took some imagination to see her as the pinball wizard of Swarthmore. She was sure she projected a more dignified image as a lawyer.
Dignified. Now, Jack was dignified. He could give lessons in how to embody gravitas. It was why he’d done so well in his career at an absurdly young age. There were partners at Fergusson older than Blackjack McIntyre who seemed callow in comparison.
Picking Dave & Buster’s hadn’t been the move of a shallow or silly man. It had been a brilliant first salvo in their war. It got her to relax. She’d been prepared to fall into a stupor during some seven-course gastronomic extravaganza, where a different wine had to be paired with each course, then sampled, savored, and discussed. Instead, they’d had standard American fare—burgers, fries and beer.
And the games had been fun. He’d been competitive but also appreciative of her success. Both a gracious winner and loser. Well-played, as the Brits would say. She had to hand it to him, he’d carried the first round handily. It didn’t make her like him more, but it did suggest that he was going to be a tough opponent.
Her turn next. While her sheets were agitating in the washer, she powered up her laptop to brainstorm their first sex date.
Venue. Here? His place? She was dying to see where he lived. Probably a sleek penthouse overlooking Rittenhouse Square, only maybe not on a federal employee’s salary. Chances were, she made more money than he did.
She typed in best places in philadelphia to have a sexy date and got Jack’s list of best first dates. Stupid computer.
She tried for a list of sexiest hotels. Ugh, it was all bed & breakfasts in the Poconos or Endless Mountains. What was up with people? She didn’t want romance. She wanted sex.
Besides, hotels and room service were too much like traveling for her job. Generally speaking, it wasn’t sexy. You could sprinkle rose petals on the bedding all you wanted, but it was still just a hotel room.
Okay, her place then. She could control the environment, going for straight-out sexy without the romantic overtones. No rose petals. A new bath gel might be nice.
She needed a shopping list. Condoms, of course. Whipped cream? Too clichéd? Couldn’t hurt to have a canister on hand, just in case.
Clothes. Elise didn’t care what Jack claimed—that silk robe very nearly had done the job. Layers could be even better. When he’d been in her house, dressed to the nines, all she could think about—until they began negotiating their deal—was how much fun it was going to be to undress him, piece by piece. She guessed he’d feel the same way.
She made a note to stop off at her favorite lingerie store to get a new bra and panty set. Or two.
Candles? Nah. Too messy and someone would have to remember to get up and blow them out. The way she wanted the night to go, neither of them would be able to move for a long, long time.
Flowers? She thought about the arrangement he’d given her and sighed. If he had any idea how much she’d enjoyed them…then again, best if he didn’t. No flowers.
Food. This was a thornier problem. Takeout or have something ready? Something ready. No phone calls, no awkwardness hiding behind the door so the delivery guy didn’t see too much flesh. Cheese, crackers, stuff for sandwiches, beer, maybe she’d pick up some wine if she was feeling charitable toward him.
And something for breakfast. Definitely something for breakfast. The thought of the Honorable Jack McIntyre doing the walk of shame in his Saturday evening clothes gave her a particularly wolfish grin.
Best of all was picturing him wearing no clothes at all.
Chapter Five
Remember, stupid—it’s just sex. Jack’s new mantra, practiced with increasing frequency as Saturday had approached.
It’s only sex. Biological urges. Physiology, not romance. Her bed was not the place to pour out his heart.
He’d made a huge mistake at the end of their first date. He’d kissed her—just once—with all his love front and center. It felt so completely different from anything he’d experienced before, he wasn’t sure how he could go back to his usual mix of desire and technique. He’d relived that kiss countless times during the week. He’d thought of things she might have said, other things he might have done, dawning realizations she might have had, offers—of something other than “coffee”—that he might have made or accepted.
In short, he’d driven himself crazy with the tantalizing prospect that kissing, touching, caressing, arousing, satisfying Elise would make her love him. It wouldn’t work that way, but he clung to the hope.
Jack slowed his pace as he neared her house. It was a fine spring evening, the mild temperature promising more flowers and greenery with each new day. Frankly, even nature taunted him with blossoms and fruitfulness—products of a life cycle he couldn’t seem to manage.
Who cared when it happened—there was no doubt he was in love with the diabolically elusive Elise Carroll. He also understood what the poets had been saying for millennia—love sucked. Even if Elise had shared his feelings on day one, they’d still have an uphill battle merging their lives. That the feelings were all on his side left him struggling to know how to proceed. How does a man treat the woman he wants to cherish forever when all she wants is to f—uh, have her way with him?
Jack fumed in the cool April air. He’d been born a century too late. A hundred years ago, his courtship would have gone very differently. He’d have asked her father for her hand in marriage. Elise might have been allowed the option to say no, but the economic reality gave women little freedom to decide things as essential as who they married.
&n
bsp; Once married, they’d have had a lot of time to get to know each other. Now he got one night with her per week. And precious little of that time was going to be taken up with conversation. How was he supposed to court a woman determined to keep everything purely physical? Better the sexual frustration inherent in the early twentieth century approach.
No, he had that wrong. He might be a throwback to an earlier time, but the woman in that scenario wouldn’t have been his Elise. The fearless woman he’d fallen for in his courtroom couldn’t have existed in any other century. She was a product of the present, and that included having autonomy over her sex life.
Bad luck for him that he’d fallen for a thoroughly modern woman with no economic need for a husband, and seemingly no interest in romance.
His stride lengthened.
What was wrong with this picture? Wasn’t it supposed to be the man who wanted sex with no emotional ties? And wasn’t the woman more likely to be the one mooning over her lover’s photo on the office website? Because he had to face facts. He’d clicked on Elise’s photo at the Fergusson & Leith website more than once. A lot more than once.
Elise was a cipher to him, unlike anyone he’d known. His previous experience had resulted in fairly formal encounters followed, eventually, by fairly formal sex. Formal, unemotional sex. He’d actually caught himself thinking about a particularly tricky prosecution while engaged in certain intimate acts in bed.
Jack shook his head. He enjoyed sex, of course, but surely it was just a physiological imperative, like scratching an itch? He’d always assumed it got so much attention because of the cultural taboos around nudity and non-procreational coitus.
Yet, here he was, intensely aware of how few blocks were left between his body and hers. He was already aroused just thinking about the evening, feeling his desire for Elise welling up inside him. If all it was going to be was sex, at least it was going to be sex with the woman of his heart.
Which brought him back to that final kiss last week. He needed to guard against that…that tiniest touch of romance. Turned out, kisses could be equally enthusiastic but where one type said, “Wow, you’re hot,” another said just as clearly, “I love you.” Without being sure how he knew, he sensed he’d lose Elise if every touch said, “I love you.”
Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance Page 6
