by Edie Sommers
I opened my mouth to say something totally movie-worthy, and instead, out came, “I’ve never noticed any warts. But I’d be happy to check for you.”
Oh damn! Slapping my hands over my traitorous mouth couldn’t reel the words back in. My face must’ve matched Andy’s food for heat.
Andy laughed then, a totally joyous sound that I’d heard many times, and would never tire of. “I might take you up on that offer.”
Andy? Flirting? So worth a bit of embarrassment.
He flagged down a passing waiter, slipped him some dollars, and whispered in his ear. The waiter grinned, nodded at me, and took off.
Andy laced his fingers together and put his hands behind his head. Smug? Andy could pull off smug? Who knew?
“What did you do?” Narrowing my eyes probably didn’t make me appear any more intimidating.
“You’ll see.”
Yeah, but would I want to?
The music quieted. What had he planned? The opening strains of Brad Paisley’s song Ticks came on. I smacked my hand over my face again, makeup be damned, especially at the part about a man checking a woman for ticks after a walk in the country.
“You’re creative, you know that?” I groaned, peeking out from between my splayed fingers.
“So I’ve been told.” Andy dropped the grin. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I? I’m sorry…”
No hiding behind my hands when I needed them to clutch his hand again. “You’ve met my friend Darlene, right?” What came into the woman’s brain immediately came flying out of her mouth. No brain to mouth filter at all.
Andy winced. He’d definitely met my bestie. Oh, right. He and Jack had attended school with her.
“Yeah. Nothing could embarrass me after some of the things she’s said to me.” Or some of the things I’d done under her influence—added by a few glasses of wine, and the promise of “But nobody knows us here.”
Andy’s coy smile returned. “I would, you know.”
“You would what?” Oh dear, I’d gone and lost track of the conversation.
“Check you for ticks.”
Wait! Was that something crawling on my back? If he gazed at me with such lust much longer, I’d rip my clothes off and demand he check every inch of me, right now!
I glanced around and reined in my passion. I’d already made myself unwelcome at Joe’s Tavern. Adding a whole town to the list of “Places Cassie’s not allowed to go” wasn’t on the night’s agenda.
Besides, regardless of his newfound playfulness, my date might have a heart attack if he knew my thoughts about him.
The country music in the background ended, replaced a few moments later with smooth jazz. The waiter cleared our table and brought the check, sparing me from having to form a comeback.
We hadn’t said much, but the comfort of Andy’s presence was a near tangible thing. At least he appeared more at ease with me. I shivered. Even in early May nights got cool in the south.
“Wait right here.” Andy wandered away into the night, returning a few moments later with a jacket, and wrapped the soft leather around my shoulders. His scent clung to the lining, and I found the temptation to bury my face in the leather and sniff. With nothing more than a grin and an arm around my shoulders, he told me the night had just begun. I stood, rooted to the spot, funny things happening to my insides. Others joined us on the sidewalks, heading away from the restaurants and toward the river.
Instead of the muddy banks of my memories, a boardwalk now lined the near side of the river, with a pier jutting out over the water, the smell of freshly cut wood telling of the newness of the venue. The more we walked, the louder the music grew.
Carriage lights adorned the wooden supports, and a band played front and center. Several couples swayed to the music in the old bank parking lot.
“You like to dance, right?” Andy didn’t wait for an answer. Shucks, he’d caught me often enough sashaying through the house to whatever played on the radio.
He pulled me close, not close enough to be lewd, damn it, but enough to where one tiny step would mold my body to his. The moment came and I took full advantage, resting my head on Andy’s shoulder. He tucked me under his chin, keeping time with a sultry beat.
No fancy footwork, merely honest dancing, and the man could hold a tune when he started humming into my ear. An old woman a few feet away, embracing a silver-haired man, smiled and winked. Maybe Andy and I reminded her of herself and her husband years ago.
One day, would I hold Andy tight and relive this moment through another young couple?
His arms around me brought a fantasy to life. How I’d longed to have him hold me. Dancing kept us from talking, but he spoke volumes without words, brushing an errant strand of hair from my eyes, fingers so gentle on my cheek.
And his eyes… I’d never seen such admiration in anyone’s eyes before. He stepped lightly, in perfect rhythm, not really leading, but keeping our movements synchronous, the perfect timing of a couple who’d danced together for years, though we hadn’t.
“If I could, I’d stay here dancing with you forever,” he whispered against my cheek.
I pulled him closer in answer, regardless of who might find our now-approaching-bump-and-grind dancing inappropriate. How was this guy still single?
The last song ended, and still Andy held me, swaying to music only he heard. When the band began to pack up, Andy stepped away. “It’s late. I suppose I better get you home.”
Lord, let that be a euphemism for taking me to bed. Wait! What? On the first date? Without the influence of wine? I stared at Andy’s profile, kissed by shadows and light. What a handsome man.
And a rock-solid friend.
I could fall for Andy Getsinger hard and fast, if I wasn’t halfway there already.
A few people ambled away from the dock, most having already wandered away. Those remaining seemed content to remain in shadows. A giggle or two reached my ears.
He opened the car door for me, pressed his lips to mine far too briefly, tucked me in, and fastened my seatbelt. Good thing, too. My trembling fingers weren’t working at the moment. No one had held the door for me and fastened my seatbelt since I sat in the back seat in a booster chair.
And held my hand in the car on the way home. “I had a good time tonight,” he said.
I watched his expression by the dashboard lights, unable to read much of anything but the bobbing of his Adam’s apple when he gave a hard swallow.
“Me too.” When had I become taciturn? Sooo not like me. My heart fell. Soon I’d be back in my home, alone, with this wonderful man close by, but not close enough to touch.
Way too soon he pulled up into our shared driveway. Lights shone from the windows of his side of the duplex. Mine were dark.
“Thanks for letting me use your jacket.” I forced myself to remove the worn leather garment. “I’m so rolled in your scent. I think I’m part Labrador.” Oh, crap! I slapped a hand over my mouth. Had I said that out loud?
He banished my hopes of having only thought those words with a deep laugh. “Is being a Labrador a bad thing?”
“Um, loyal, happy, affectionate.” I gave him my most winning smile, inwardly cringing. How had this conversation veered so far off course? Maybe I read too many mysteries and not enough romance novels if I hadn’t learned by now how to be utterly charming and not such a tactless idiot.
I was so going to kick myself later.
Andy caught my chin in his hand, bringing my head up so our eyes met. “Sounds good to me.”
Think, Cassie, think! Surely to God I could come up with better things to say. I opened my mouth to utter something delightfully witty to have him eating from my hand, and out fell, “Also part bitch.” I returned my hand to my mouth. Maybe if I left it there I wouldn’t say anything else stupid.
The dash light showed his exaggerated wide eyes and raised hands. “Whoa! Which part?”
Feeling reckless, I said, “The part I haven’t had a reason to show my hunky neighbor.�
� And maybe, the part that wanted to lick his neck. Thank God I managed to keep those words inside my suddenly unfiltered mouth.
He dipped his head, a gesture I’d never noticed before tonight, but in hindsight, he did all the time. I placed my hand on his. “I’ll only bite if you ask nicely.”
That was it. I needed a chaperone. I had no control over my mouth.
One side of his mouth twisted up. “Duly noted.”
He led me to my porch. This was it. The big moment. Some guys saw being invited in as a ticket to bed and breakfast—with me cooking, and possibly serving as the mattress—but I didn’t want the evening to end. Now to coax Andy inside, where I might not ever let him leave.
How thoughtful of Andy to provide an excuse to get him where I wanted him.
“Want me to check the house out for you? I know how you hate going into an empty house.”
“Yes!” I barely avoided a fist pump. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.” Although Magoo perched in the living room window worked as good as any burglar alarm to tell me there were no prowlers in the house. One sign of a stranger and off he ran.
Yes, my fearless four-legged protector.
Not.
With a little half-smile, Andy took the keys from my trembling fingers, unlocked the door, and turned on the light. “Nothing in the living room.” He paced on to the kitchen. “Nothing here.” From room to room he wandered, checking windows and giving the all clear, skillfully avoided the feline twining around his ankles and meowing loudly.
“Oh, my God, Cassie,” he gasped. “Call 9-1-1. Your room has been ransacked.”
Oh, crap. There on the bed, all my discarded clothing choices, with at least a dozen pairs of shoes in the floor. My one and only little black dress now sported white hair—proof of where Magoo took his evening nap.
“No.” I heaved out a sigh. “Thieves didn’t create this carnage.” Oh, dear. I toed a pair of slinky panties under the bed before he could see them.
“Then your closet must’ve barfed,” he said, shaking his head.
In brilliant colors too. Not the romantic ending I’d hoped for the evening.
I pointed toward the closet and he dutifully marched across the floor and opened the door. “Eeek!” he screamed and jumped back.
“What?”
He grinned and pointed to a hideous Christmas sweater my favorite aunt gave me and I refused to throw out—or wear unless she’d be there to see.
“Ha, ha, ha.” Folding my arms across my chest probably didn’t up my intimidation factor, but he was too kind to comment. Or he was too busy noticing the accidental titquake that completely overwhelmed my sternness.
I eased my arms away slowly, so as not to unseat my boobs from the skimpy little demi-bra I’d thought a good idea a few hours ago.
His expression softened. “You know I’m just kidding, right?”
Damn it. I did. Besides, I could never be mad at him when he always took such good care of me and went to so many lengths to preserve my feelings.
We stood in my bedroom, so close to where I wanted to be. One quick lunge and I’d have him on the bed. Or rather, on top of Mount Discarded Clothes.
What the hell was wrong with me? Andy was a friend, not a bed buddy—yet. And I didn’t sleep with men on the first date.
I didn’t know who made the first move. One moment we were inches apart, the next, my arms were around his neck and his around my back, gently lifting so our mouths fit together. He didn’t invade, there was no tongue battle, he didn’t fight for control. As before by the river, we danced, and a gentle two-step gradually increased into a knee-weakening tango. He held me close enough to feel the erection in his pants against my thigh.
Normally, it’d be time to say goodnight, but all thoughts of restraint fled. Liquid heat pooled in my groin. Take me, Andy, right here, right now. Screw my unspoken rule!
He stepped back, hands on my shoulders, voice gone husky. “I think I’d better go now.”
What? This couldn’t be happening! He brushed his lips across my forehead, then ran like the hounds of Hell nipped at his heels.
I grabbed the bed post to keep from falling down. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! I’d been his for the taking. Somehow Mr. Quiet released my inner slut. I didn’t even know I had an inner slut.
And he left me hanging. Damn him for being a gentleman.
But what if I’d run him off for good?
I drowned my sorrows in a bowl of Heavenly Hash ice cream.
6
What the hell was that infernal buzzing? Oh. Reaching out blindly, I slapped my hand toward the nightstand, missing twice before silencing the alarm clock. Ten more minutes. I’d snooze ten more minutes.
Twenty minutes later I shot out of bed, knocking the book I’d been reading last night to the floor. Magoo glared at me, ensconced himself more fully on my pillow, and went back to sleep.
Hadn’t I hit the snooze alarm? Oh, no! The boss frowned on employees showing up late.
I raced through a quick shower, tugged on panties, a bra, a soft top and long skirt, slipped my feet into my favorite brown sandals, and cleared fog from the bathroom mirror to check my appearance.
Oh, dear God. I’d probably scare small children. No help for it. No time for a full makeup job, especially not on par with the miracles Darlene worked Saturday. No one really expected perfection on Monday morning, right?
I took a few swipes at my hair with a brush, gave up and wrenched my annoying tresses into a pony tail, and put on enough makeup to show I’d at least made an effort.
No time for coffee or even a bagel.
I had five minutes, and those must be devoted to the cat. He came running at the sound of the top popping on the cat food can and was happily growling his way through breakfast as I shot out the door.
Only my car sat in the driveway. No Andy or Jack. Had they talked about me? What had Andy said about our date?
After what might have been a disaster on Saturday night, would Jack still want to go out with me?
I hadn’t heard a thing out of them except a text from Andy saying he had a good time.
I contemplated stopping on the way to work for coffee and a doughnut, but one glance at the clock had me driving on past.
Being nearly late meant I had to park in the back of the lot and race for the front door. No one waited at the time clock.
Semi-jogging past a forest of drab gray cubes let me arrive at my desk with seconds to spare. Barely. Whew! Another close one. I tossed my pocketbook in a desk drawer, dropped down to my chair, and pretended I’d been at work for at least ten minutes. If anyone looked too closely at my computer screen, however, they’d have questioned the rapid-fire gibberish I’d typed out.
The boss passed by, sipping a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Cassie. Hard at work, I see.”
I smiled. “Of course!” The scent of her coffee made my mouth water. Nearly oversleeping left me no time to feed my caffeine addiction. First break, and vending machine coffee, couldn’t come quickly enough.
She leaned into the doorway of my cube. I should say something. Remind her that when she hired me she’d promised a promotion within six months. Which would have been five months ago. I’d hit every deadline, worked over, and my accuracy had never been questioned. I stared down at my hands, working up the nerve to broach the subject.
Now or never. Besides, she’d been the one to make the promise.
“Boss, I…” When I looked up she’d left.
Damn it!
Once the boss worked her way on down the cube farm, I abandoned the nonsense I’d been typing in favor of actual work. Nothing too intense this morning, as my weekend left me incapable of many coherent thoughts.
At least not seeing the guys on Sunday gave me time to finish housework, restore the pile of clothes on my bed to the closet, and shop for groceries.
Papers covered most of my workstation, piled on either side of my computer screen. A neon green coffee cup declared, “Monday hat
es you too.” Leave it to Darlene to give me such an odd gift. But she’d been right. Mondays did tend to hate me. The rest of the weekdays liked to deliver a few bitch slaps too.
A hand slammed down on the edge of my desk. “How’d it go?”
I jumped back. “Ahhh!” For a moment I hovered in space, wind milling my arms to stay upright.
Darlene expertly righted my chair. “You really should get maintenance to fix the chair of death before it kills you,” she commented.
At least she’d managed to place two cups of coffee on my desk before rescuing me. “Thanks for the fix.” I saluted her with the cup and took a sip.
Darlene parked herself hipshot against my desk, arms folded over her chest. “I didn’t see you come in, so couldn’t tell if you walked funny, but I want every single detail about your date.”
“It’s was awesome. Wonderful. He took me to a lovely dinner and dancing.” Then I might have ruined everything by opening my mouth. She didn’t need to know too much.
Her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. “And that’s all? Oh, c’mon. What kind of friend are you if you won’t share all the juicy details with poor Darlene, who’s going through a dry spell? I even kept myself from calling you yesterday to keep from interrupting things if hottie spent the night.”
I sighed. “I wish there was more to tell, but there’s not.” Damn it. “He took me home and checked out the house for me.”
Darlene snorted. “Hell, I do that.”
“Yes, and I appreciate it, too.” But I’d never been disappointed when Darlene left. “He kissed me goodnight and went home.” I wouldn’t tell her how fast he’d run.
“No! Jeez, no nookie or nothing?”
I wouldn’t let my disappointment show. No, no, no…
“You tried, right? Made sure he knew you’d be open to suggestions?” Darlene slid more fully onto my desk, nudging papers out of her way. “I mean, I know you say you don’t put out on the first date and all, but you and those guys are practically married.”
“We were in my bedroom,” I offered.
“Oh.” A furrow appeared between her brows. “He didn’t check the closet and find that gawdawful sweater, did he.”
