Just One Kiss

by Isabel Sharpe

  Daniel listened attentively as he always did, but not as if he were enjoying her description. Rather as if it troubled him, which troubled her. “Funny.”

  “What is?”

  “You sound the same way talking about this bakery ideal as you did about Tom’s family.”

  Angela felt a jab of annoyance. “But this bakery would be mine. I never could have said that about his family.”

  “Okay.” He was clearly unconvinced. “Don’t get me wrong, I think the idea is great. I was just wondering why that one particular aspect, the sophistication, is so important to you.”

  Angela shifted irritably on her eyeball. “Because it’s wonderful and special. Anyone can make cookies.”

  “Not like yours.”

  “Well, thank you.” Instead of pleasure at his compliment, more annoyance. “But I want more than that.”

  “I hope you get what you want, Angela.” He was watching her; she was watching the fountain. “I really do.”

  But… The word was so obviously left off the end of his response he might as well have shouted it.

  Angela stayed still, trying to quiet her feisty inner warrior, recognizing that this conversation was grating on a very sore point, nothing Daniel could be aware of. Now that she’d finally dragged herself out from under Tom’s influence, she did not need another lover casting aspersions on her goals and ambition. Which made it even more important that she stay away from Daniel physically, so she’d keep her overly romantic nature at bay and pay close attention to what kind of partner he’d really be.

  Because, as she’d discovered in her marriage, all the sexual attraction in the world wouldn’t sustain a relationship if the foundations of respect, understanding and support were missing.

  * * *

  “OKAY, SO THEN after the museum and ice cream on Tuesday, you went out for coffee yesterday, and tea and sandwiches today, and he said goodbye each time having totally honored your request to take things slowly.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you are miserable because…?”

  “I’m not miserable.” Angela stroked another coat of mascara onto her eyelashes. She and Bonnie were in her bedroom getting ready for a night out dancing with friends. “What makes you think I am? This is exactly what I wanted. I’m completely—”

  “Miserable.” Bonnie turned this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing her leopard-print minidress. “Quick question, how long have I known you?”

  “Bonnie.” Angela sent her an exasperated look. “I don’t know. Eight years. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You don’t think after that long I’d know when you’re not yourself?”

  “Who else would I be?”

  “Gee, I dunno. Maybe Ms. Fooling Herself? Or how about Ms. I-Don’t-Know-How-to-Admit-I-Never-Wanted-Platonic-With-This-Guy-Anyway? Or, no, no, plain old Ms. I’m-In-Love-and-All-Shook-Up.”

  “Stop that.” Angela capped the mascara and tossed it back into the wicker basket she kept on top of her dresser for her everyday makeup. Bonnie was making her extremely cranky, mostly because she was probably right. Spending time with Daniel had been wonderful torture. Every time he’d sat near her or part of his body had bumped, brushed or slid past hers, which had happened with truly agonizing regularity, she’d sailed either into memories of their lovemaking or fantasies of future lovemaking. Telling herself how important it was to get to know him really well before they continued a sexual relationship didn’t work at all on her subconscious, which continued to be slavishly infatuated. Even her dreams were invaded. She’d decided there was nothing more depressing than waking up blissfully in a man’s arms after a night of exquisite passion, turning to kiss him…and waking up for real, alone in bed after another night of solo snore ’n’ drool.

  She couldn’t go on like this. Something had to give. The obvious two options were to tell Daniel she was sorry but she couldn’t see him anymore, or to invite him somewhere private, rip his clothes off and hop on for the ride of a lifetime.

  Neither was preferable. She still hoped some miracle third solution would present itself so she could have her chocolate-cupcake man and eat him, too.

  “Okay, I’m sorry.” Bonnie fluffed up her beautiful red hair, which was dead straight and refused to fluff, but which never stopped her trying. “Or no, I’m not really sorry. But I do understand. And I’m one to talk, since I’ve got some of the same issues with Seth. But I’ve been working like mad to be honest with myself. This month has been weird between us again.”

  “I sensed that.”

  “I know, I know. Going out for drinks with him was a mistake. Letting Jack take that picture was a mistake.” She turned from the mirror, biting her lip. “I do want you to know that I appreciate you looking out for me, Angela. For warning me I was playing gasoline-covered chicken with the big bad bonfire again. It really did make a difference. I think I’m doing better, not letting him get to me so much. At this point my feelings for him are mostly a habit, and I’m determined to break it.”

  “Bonnie, I’m so glad to hear you say that.” She hugged her friend, who had doused herself with so much perfume Angela had to hold her breath. Bonnie never did anything halfway. “You are really brave. I know how painful it is to let go of something you thought was right.”

  “No kidding.” She wiped away the beginning of a tear. “God, don’t make me cry, my eyeliner will run and I’ll look like a coal-mining raccoon.”

  “Right. Never mind. Forget the sentiment.” Angela released her, backed away with her hands up. “You’re not that great. Really annoying, in fact.”

  “Thank you. Perfect.” Bonnie checked her makeup in the mirror, heavier than Angela would ever wear it, but on Bonnie it always looked cool. “Now. Because I am no longer fooling myself over my feelings about Seth, you must therefore face your feelings for Daniel, too.”

  “Oh! Look at the time.” Angela held up her wrist, which had no watch on it. “We have got to go or we’ll be late. You know Jack hates when we’re late.”

  “Angela…”

  “Busy, busy, busy.” She shoved Bonnie out of the way and took one last look in the mirror at the sexy black minidress she’d bought shortly after her divorce and hadn’t ever felt like wearing. Tonight, something in her had said what the hell. It wasn’t racy by club standards, just by hers. Solid black with wide shoulder straps, it had beaded fabric covering her breasts, which were on display more than in her usual wardrobe, and fell in flirty folds to midthigh. A good dancing dress.

  They were going to a club called Noc Noc on Second Avenue, one of Bonnie’s favorites. Angela had to be in the right mood to enjoy crowds, drinks and deafening noise. Tonight she was. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened to her mood, why the skimpy dress had been the evening’s only choice. Why Ms. Stay-At-Home was excited at the idea of going to a club Bonnie said was lit and decorated like a vampire den. She felt reckless. Maybe a little desperate. Going dancing with friends was the perfect outlet.

  Out in the hallway Jack waited, clearly impatient, looking extremely hot in jeans and a close-fitting shirt in blues and grays.

  “What were you two doing, weaving cloth for your—” His dark eyes lit on Angela. He did a comical jaw-drop and clutched his chest. “Angela. My God. I think my heart just stopped.”

  Bonnie giggled. “Doesn’t she look amazing?”

  “You do, too, Bonnie.” He sidled up to her and ran his hands down her arms. “But I expect blatant sexuality every day of the year from you, so it wasn’t a life-threatening event.”

  “I understand.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, dear.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took each of them gallantly by the arm. “A couple of my friends are meeting us there. Seth isn’t sure he’ll make it but he’ll try. I invited Demi, too.”

  “Gee, let me guess.” Bonnie spoke in a low voice, glancing around. “She’s busy.”

  “Not surprisingly, yes, she is.” Jack led them to the elevator
. “Ready for a night of dancing debauchery?”

  “Absolutely. Lead the way.” Bonnie leapt, ballerina-like, into the elevator and spun around. “Hey, can we tell Noc Noc jokes?”

  Jack and Angela exchanged glances. “No.”

  On the first floor, Jack propelled them past the locked entrances to their darkened businesses. Angela shivered stepping out onto the sidewalk. Not so much because the air was chilly again, which it was, but because the night felt sparkling new and full of exciting possibilities. What those were, she had no idea. But instinct told her she was in for a really great time.

  Noc Noc turned out to be everything Bonnie said: crowded, hot and boisterous, dimly lit orange and red, vampire den, yes, or the inside of an S&M dungeon. But the food and drinks were good and not expensive, the booths large and comfortable, the dance floor not impossibly small and the bartenders friendly and quick.

  All the ingredients for a fabulous time.

  Except Angela wasn’t having one. She drank cocktails with weird names and too much sugar, ate too many tater tots, a specialty of the house that arrived in large amounts, hot and crisp, for only a few dollars. She danced with Jack, with his friend Blake, with Seth and with a couple of random guys who flattered her with their obvious attraction. She chatted, flirted mildly, laughed at jokes, made some of her own, went through all the motions, but the anticipation of having a really wonderful, special evening was falling flat. Something was missing. Something that would make everything fall into place, that would make her feel…right.

  She hated to admit it. Hated to. But she knew what that thing was. That thing that would complete the evening here tonight, or anywhere else tonight. Or any other night.

  Finally, after her third cocktail, she mustered her courage—or simply didn’t care anymore about anything else—and shouldered her way out of the crowd, heat and noise, into the blessedly fresh air outside. By the time she reached the sidewalk, her cell was in her hand.

  “Daniel?”

  His voice was lost in the shrieking laughter of a nearby group of girls.

  “What?” She clamped a hand over her free ear. “I can barely hear you.”

  “I said hi. Where are you?”

  “Noc Noc.”

  “Okay. Who’s there?”

  Angela burst into alcohol-enhanced giggles. “No, no. I’m on Second Avenue at a club called Noc Noc.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of it. Couldn’t figure out why you’d call me this late with a knock-knock joke.”

  “Unless it was a really good one.” She was smiling so hard that in a few seconds her cheeks would start hurting. Daniel was what she’d really wanted, what had been missing this evening. If she had any doubt, the wave of joy and contentment at hearing his voice erased it. Maybe she’d had one drink too many, but all her reasons for staying away from him seemed contrived and artificial, born more of fear than reason.

  “Come dancing with me.” She didn’t ask, she ordered.

  “Wow.” He laughed nervously. “I’m…not much of a dancer.”

  “Oh.” She felt herself wilting into disappointment. Having come to the brilliant realization that Daniel was what her evening needed, it selfishly hadn’t occurred to her he might not feel the same. “You can come out and not dance.”

  “I could. But Angela…” His voice lowered. Angela took a few more steps toward a quieter part of the street. “Jake isn’t here.”

  “Oh.” She tried to figure that one out. “So the apartment would be lonely if you left?”

  He chuckled. “Not quite what I was thinking.”

  “What were you think—” D’oh. She knew what he was thinking. Point the first—he didn’t want to come out tonight. Point the second—Jake wasn’t home.

  She got it.

  A cold breeze whipped down the block, chilling her skin, moist from perspiration.

  “Angela?” His voice had remained low, but she could hear him clearly, as if there were no way her ears would miss what he was about to say no matter how much noise was around her. “How about coming to dance with me over here?”

  12

  ANGELA STOOD outside Daniel’s building, taking deep breaths. The trip over to his house by cab seemed to have sobered her up completely, for which she was grateful. If something happened between them tonight—okay, something would happen between them tonight—she wanted to be clear-headed enough to use good judgment. To understand what she was doing and why. Because she knew without a doubt that one look at him would make her want to—

  The building’s front door pushed out and Daniel was standing there, tall, solid and handsome, grinning as if he’d never stop. It was hard to associate this vital man with the pale imitation who’d walked into her bakery for the first time two weeks ago. “Thought you might change your mind if I didn’t come out and drag you in. God, you look amazing, Angela.”

  She’d been right. One look and she was ready to jump his bones. She’d just put it that bluntly and be done with it.

  “I’m…I was…” She started giggling. Not because anything was funny, but because he looked good enough to devour and she was so happy. No, she hadn’t been having fun at Noc Noc. Fun was now, fun was Daniel. He lit her up as if she was made of neon.

  “You were what? I’m thinking you were on the verge of running away.”

  “No, no.” She peeked at him coyly. “I needed time to prepare myself for the awesome experience of seeing you.”

  “Ahhh.” He reached for her hand, drew her into the stuffy little space between the outer and inner doors. “And were you fully prepared?”

  She whistled silently. “I nearly passed out, but managed to recover.”

  “Glad to hear that.” He squeezed her hand, looking her up and down, sending shivers of anticipation over her body. “I’m going to need more time to recover from seeing you. You are stunning. I’ve never seen you dressed like that.”

  “I never dress like this.”

  “You should. Often.” He ran his hand down her bare arm. “But only around me. Otherwise I’ll have to fight through every man in Seattle to be with you.”

  “Ha.” She gave him a skeptical look while her insides did a dance of pleasure. “It’s just a dress.”

  “Oh, no. It’s not just a dress. It’s a body, also, the kind that makes men forget they’re civilized beings. And…” He touched her cheek in that sweet and tender way that managed to get her hot because she was as depraved as hell. “It’s you.”

  “Oh. Well. Thank you.” She couldn’t stop smiling, even having just sounded struck stupid. Any second she’d start laughing. The man turned her completely goofy.

  “Ready to go up?” He twined his fingers with hers. “No thoughts of running away?”

  “Let me check.” She held his gaze, blue and warm and so, so wonderful. “No. Not one.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” He turned to the door. And stopped. “Oh, God. I came down without my keys.”

  “Oh, no!” Jake wasn’t up there. They were stuck.

  “Our date curse continues, Angela.” He sounded more amused than upset.

  She was the opposite, hastily scanning the row of apartment buzzers. “Can we bug someone to let us in?”

  “Nah, I don’t want to bother people at this hour. We’ll just wait until someone comes along.”

  Angela stared at him. Something was weird about this. Didn’t he want to be upstairs with her as desperately as she wanted to be up there with him? “Who’s going to come by in the middle of the night on a Thursday?”

  He shrugged. “Gee, I don’t know.”

  “Daniel!”

  “Yes?”

  “You’d rather be down here in this stuffy little box than upstairs with me?”

  “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

  “You are kidding, aren’t you?” She started laughing.

  “No, I’m completely serious.” His voice was anything but. “What did you think the two of us might do upstairs in an empty apartment that
would make getting out of here worthwhile?”

  She couldn’t stop giggling. “If you don’t know, then—”

  “Tell me, Angela,” he whispered. His face was serious now. Apparently she could stop giggling. He cupped the back of her head, holding it steady. “Tell me.”

  Heat flooded her body. Pictures came to mind immediately, then words, and then a wicked idea. “I thought maybe we could sit on your bed together.”

  “Close together?”

  “Yes, yes, very close.” She moved until she was nearly touching his body with hers. “The lights will be low, maybe some music on. Something soft with a good pulsing beat in the background.”

  “And then what?” His hands bumped hers. Their breathing was audible in the small space. Their chemistry was as palpable. Angela nearly regretted her plan.

  Nearly.

  “Then I’d like to take my dress off.” She put her hands to the solid planes of his chest, her heart beating so hard it felt as if it were about to burst out of hers. “And then I’d like to take your shirt off. And your pants. And everything else.”

  “Mmm, I’m really liking this plan.”

  “And then I’d like to do…something.” She pulled at his shirt until it exposed his skin, pressed her lips there once, twice, gave a slow lick with the very tip of her tongue.

  “What kind of something?”

  Angela slid her hands over his hips, down his thighs. “A kind of something I bet you’ve never done with a woman before.”

  “Oh, my God.” He spoke on a groan. “What? Tell me.”

  She was about to hit him with her punch line—read Mother Goose poetry to you—when her fingers encountered a bulge in his pocket. Not the normal are-you-glad-to-see-me bulge. A bulge that felt like—