Almost Elinor: A Jet City Novel

by Gina Robinson

  "Clear spirits to avoid a hangover?" He laughed.

  "You're catching on. Screwdriver?" Fortunately, I had an unopened carton of orange juice in the fridge.

  "An old-fashioned screwdriver. Okay." He nodded. "Sure."

  "It's simple and I have the ingredients on hand. You're lucky I have orange juice or we'd be drinking our vodka neat. I don't keep this place well stocked."

  I mixed us each one, handed him his, and took a seat next to him on the sofa. Maybe a little too close. Our thighs were nearly brushing. We were silent a moment, stilled by unexpected awkwardness. What did we do next?

  He took a sip. The ice in his glass clinked.

  One of us had to break the silence. "You know what I was thinking when I had the knife at my neck?"

  He looked at me. "That it was a damned shame you hadn't worn a choker like Elinor's famous for? A little protection at the neck would have been a good thing."

  I laughed softly. "Chokers are out of style right now. I should know. It took me forever to find one to go with the red dress. I supposed I could have ordered one online. If I hadn't left it to the last minute. But I'll keep it in mind. Maybe I'll start a trend."

  "Depends on how you sell it," he said playfully. "Push the self-defense angle and I think you've got something."

  I bumped him with my shoulder. "I was thinking about something more important—you."

  I surprised him. For the barest second, a look of hope crossed his face. I was sure I saw it. He covered it quickly with that expression Connor was famous for. The mugging for the ladies, I liked to call it.

  "You were hoping I knew what I was doing and didn't bungle the rescue I was attempting. I saw the fear in your eyes."

  "That was fear the man holding me would panic and accidentally hurt me. I don't think he meant to hurt anyone." I took a drink of my screwdriver for courage. "Anyway, that's not what I was thinking. Not that at all. Quite the opposite. I saw that you were the only one who cared enough to make the attempt." I swirled my glass, staring into it as if the orange pulp could predict my future.

  "Well," he said, "someone had to do something. And since my friend Jeremy, who's usually the hero, wasn't around, it had to be me."

  "What you saw was my eyes opening to all the possibilities I'd miss if he slit my throat."

  Austin winced. "When you put it so graphically…"

  "Weak stomach?" I finished my drink and set the glass on the stand next to me.

  His phone buzzed. And buzzed again. He ignored it.

  I put my hand on his arm. "I'm serious, Austin. You gave me an opening the day we met, a shot at something between us. I shut you down then, afraid it was too soon.

  "When our eyes met at the party, I realized my mistake. Maybe I didn't have all the time left I thought I did. Maybe I didn't have any at all. And if that were the case, what would I regret?" My pulse raced almost as frantically as it had at the party. "When I looked in your eyes, I was almost knocked off my feet with the connection between us. I can't explain it. But there's something between us."

  He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared into his glass, head down, ignoring his phone. I couldn't read his face or his thoughts. I supposed I deserved that. It's amazing the scenarios the mind can run through in the breadth of seconds. I braced myself for rejection. Well, it was my turn, wasn't it?

  Finally, he finished his drink, set it next to him, and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. He looked over at me. "You felt it, too? I thought you did." He grinned, sweetly tentative. "What are you thinking?"

  I put my hand on his knee. "I think we deserve to explore it."

  "I thought that's what we're doing." His voice was soft with emotion. "I thought that's the game we were playing."

  I felt conflicted. I hadn't meant to lead him on. Had he seen through me? Had he realized before I did that on the surface we were pretending for the public, but beneath it, the relationship was real?

  "I don't want to play games anymore." I held his gaze.

  "So you're saying…?"

  "We make this real." I felt the urge to get the words out before I lost my nerve. "That we do more than pretend. We date for real. And…see what happens." My mouth went dry. I wished I hadn't polished off my drink so cavalierly.

  "Witch," he said playfully.

  I flinched. I was clearly not over the incident yet.

  "Sorry." He covered my hand with his. "I should have said you've bewitched me. If you're sure it's not too soon—"

  I put my fingers over his lips. "No. The opposite. I'm sure it's been too long in coming. I've been too long in coming around. I refuse to let fate's screw-up with the timing of our meeting rob us of something wonderful. All I know is that if I had met you before Nigel, or a year from now, I would have no doubts that this is something I have to pursue." I swallowed hard. "You're someone I have to pursue."

  "You're pursuing me now?" he said with a wry grin. "I'm going to have to get you some coaching from my matchmaker. She says the man should always be led to believe he's the pursuer. Something about male ego and the chase being half the excitement for the male species."

  I smiled at him. "Fine by me. From now on, you do the chasing."

  Someone on the floor above me dropped something with a loud bang. I jumped and started shaking.

  He pulled me into his arms. "You're in no shape to be left alone tonight."

  "Then don't leave," I said.

  His phone kept buzzing. He cursed and pulled it from his pocket. "Excuse me."

  I grabbed his hand before he could shut the ringer off. "I appreciate your politeness and focus on me. Someone's worried about you. Given what's happened, and what's already been on the news, you'd better answer your texts."

  He sighed and nodded. "You're right." He read them quickly. "Just the guys wondering where I am. They saw the footage of me carrying you out. If I need a stiff drink, they're buying."

  "What are you waiting for?" I said. "Tell them you're with me. And I already gave you a drink."

  He laughed. "You don't know what you're opening up."

  "I think I do." I raised an eyebrow. "Do you room with them?" I didn't know. Where did he live?

  "For several years out of college, we all lived together. Now we each have our own condos in the same complex. They'll be keeping an eye out for me."

  I shrugged, feeling my courage and confidence returning. "Tell them you won't be home tonight, then."

  He raised a questioning eyebrow, looking like he didn't believe telling them was a good idea. I nodded. His thumbs flew as he texted them back.

  Their responses came back immediately.

  "Well?" I said.

  "Cam says to tell you he insists on giving you self-defense training. And a boot knife that you can carry in case there's ever a next time. He's former military and good with a knife."

  "Thoughtful," I said. "Tell him thanks. I'll take him up on that. Though I usually carry a tactical pen at the hospital."

  He nodded.

  "What else?" I said.

  "Nothing you need to see—"

  I stole a peek at his phone and started laughing. "Offering you advice, are they?"

  "They're full of it," he said. "They have the wrong impression. They know the matchmaking rules—"

  "Mmmmm," I said. "But rules are meant to be broken."

  His Adam's apple bobbed. His eyes became dark with desire. But I felt him tense.

  "I don't want to mess this up, Blair." He paused. "You, this—it's too important to me."

  "We won't be messing it up," I said gently, touched. "We've been through much more together than the average couple who's had a few dates."

  "True," he said. "Everyone already thinks we're exclusive. That's the ruse."

  I nodded, waiting for him to make the next move.

  "If we're making this real…" He paused again. "I'm not seeing anyone else. I told Ashley to put my matching on hold."

  "Neither am I," I said.

  We
were both dancing around a formal declaration of exclusivity. But the promise was there, and we both knew it.

  His phone buzzed with more texts. He glanced at them and shook his head.

  "Tell them to fuck off," I said.

  He gave me that side look again. "Sure? There's a chance they'll take it literally." He laughed and typed something. He shut the phone off and set it next to his empty glass. He still seemed nervous.

  "What?" I said.

  He sighed. "I haven't slept with any of my matches."

  "Really?" I was ridiculously delighted.

  "Yes, really." He hesitated. "I haven't slept with many women. And not with any for a longer time than I should admit to."

  I smiled at him. A novice. He was afraid of being a novice. It was so adorably sweet. He couldn't know how much it pleased the jealous side of my nature to think he hadn't been with dozens or hundreds of women.

  "Well, that's perfect," I said. "I've never slept with you."

  I could see he was still nervous. That damn Nigel. I never should have mentioned him. But how was I to know where this thing with Austin would eventually lead? In Austin's mind, I was an experienced woman and he was the inexperienced one. That wasn't the way society expected it to be. The specter of Nigel hung over us.

  I hated to mention Nigel just now, but I didn't see that I had a choice. "I've only slept with one man. Shocking, right?" I laughed nervously myself. "Over a span of years, yes. But we were separated too often. The frequency wasn't what you might expect." I took a deep breath and looked at him, hoping for understanding. "I'd say we're evenly matched."

  He grinned slightly, looking more relieved and encouraged than before. I liked to imagine he was pleased I hadn't been with dozens and dozens of men, either.

  "And, I'll add, you kiss better than any guy I know," I said, feeling an uncharacteristic blush creep up my cheeks.

  "Quite a compliment coming from a woman with so much experience," he said, and gave me that sweet look.

  I smiled and took his hand, nodding toward his empty glass. "Another drink?"

  "I've had plenty."

  I glanced at the clock. "It's getting late." I glanced pointedly at the bedroom. Yes, that was the best come-on I could manage at the moment. Especially since I wasn't supposed to be leading.

  "By whose standards?" He looked at the clock and laughed. "It's nine thirty. Almost nine thirty-one, if you're in a generous mood."

  I bumped him again. "With all that's happened this evening, it should be late."

  His eyes lit with desire. "At the risk of losing my manhood card, I have to tell you—I don't have a condom on me."

  "What?"

  He shrugged. "Too much temptation after years of being a geek. Too much sudden attention. I wasn't sure I could control myself when the right woman came along. I decided to be intentional about this."

  He took a deep breath. "I wasn't expecting this. And even if I had been, I would have left the condom at home. I'm supposed to be celibate until…well, you know, the big E of exclusivity. You're the biggest temptation I've ever faced."

  His words were so sweet, compounded by his self-deprecating, almost embarrassed manner. My heart was full of him.

  "Are you trying to back out?" I teased.

  "Are you kidding?" He sounded genuinely shocked at the question. "I was hoping you have some. This is just my roundabout way of asking."

  "I thought men are supposed to be direct and I'm not supposed to be leading?" I smiled at him encouragingly. "I might have one lying around."

  He still hesitated. "Might is better than definitely not. Though I see you don't have the same fears about temptation that I do."

  I smiled at my lap, eager and yet a bit nervous myself. Too many expectations were pinned on this.

  "Let me ask you this, Blair—who do you really want? Me? Or Jamie?"

  I didn't hesitate. "You."

  He stood suddenly and scooped me into his arms again, catching me beneath my knees. "Good. Because I've been aching to make love to you since I first met you. There's not room for Jamie in the bed with us too."

  "That soon?" I looped my arms around his neck.

  "Well, that red dress," he said, as if that explained everything. "Which way?"

  I pointed to the bedroom. "That way." I snuggled into him. "Have I mentioned how sexy a man who asks for directions is?"

  "Good thing. I expect I'm going to be asking for a whole lot more of them in a few minutes."

  As he carried me into the bedroom, I felt almost like a bride. As I'd said, I'm a tall, though slight, woman. There weren't many men who could have carried me so easily and lightly. And fewer still so possessively and eagerly.

  We didn't bother with the lights. He set me lightly on my feet at the side of the bed. By an amazing stroke of good fortune, one of the few personal touches I had was an electric candle on the nightstand on the far side of my bed. I turned it on to add to the romantic atmosphere and pulled a condom out of the nightstand drawer.

  I'd thought it was there all along. It was just that I'd unpacked the few things I'd managed to so quickly. It was hard to remember what was where. The condom was a leftover from my last trip to see Nigel. A silly purchase meant to spice things up and be a sort of joke. A deep purple, flavored condom with a French tickler tip. I wouldn't tell Austin the condom's origins, obviously. But it may have been clear from the specialty aspect of it. Unfortunately, it was the only kind I had. That or strawberry.

  I held it up for him to see. "I hope you like boysenberry?"

  He lifted an eyebrow. "I have no objections to it." He glanced down at himself. "But I don't think the flavor was intended for me. I don't see how I'm going to taste it." The look in his eyes was devilish. "The more important thing for you to know is I have no latex allergies, either, doc."

  "Good thing. This is pure sheepskin. Top of the line."

  "You were expecting a Scot, then. We love our sheep. Or so my granda tells me." His smile was delightful and sent my heart fluttering.

  "Maybe subconsciously I was," I said.

  "Do you always buy flavored condoms?" He was teasing me mercilessly now, taking the pressure off. And maybe digging for information.

  Since I love a good sense of humor, I played along. "No. But it was the only purple one I could find. I love large, pulsing, purple things."

  He laughed.

  My bed was covered with pillows. Pillows and pillows and pillows. He surveyed it doubtfully. "Is there a romantic way to de-pillow a bed?"

  "I think the word you're looking for is un-pillow." I plucked one off the bed and set it gently in the corner. I lifted an eyebrow. "One pillow at a time."

  He shook his head. "Is that so?" He grabbed the corner of the comforter. In one smooth move, he pulled the comforter and all the decorative pillows off the bed, folding them at the foot.

  "Impressive," I said, but I was looking at him and liking what I saw. Very much.

  I had been nearly a month without sex. Which wasn't so much, really, considering how long Nigel and I often spent apart. But it was long enough. Looking at Austin, and thinking about what we were about to do, an ache and a need built. The crazy thing was, it wasn't purely physical. After what had happened earlier, the need had almost as much to do with connecting with another person and the intimacy of touch. But if there was one person in the world I wanted to do it with, it was Austin.

  He was studying me. "I have the feeling getting you undressed won't be so easy."

  I walked around the bed to him. "This dress is nothing compared to the dress I was wearing when you met me. A beginner could get me out of it. A simple side zipper." I raised my arm and turned sideways to him.

  He caught me around the waist and pulled me to him, whispering in my ear, "I have fantasies about getting you out of that dress. Or making love to you in it."

  "It would take a determined man to get past those huge panniers. I'll wear it for you sometime," I said, already believing from the way his touch made me
feel that there would be many next times. Promising beginnings—this was one. "I think you'll find that it takes a lot of patience to get me out. All the undergarments are an impediment."

  "I think you'll find I know quite a lot about historical fashion and how to outmaneuver it." His hands trembled only slightly as he held the zipper with one and slid it down with the other.

  Then his hand was on my bare skin inside the opening the zipper had made. Warm hands, warm heart. I was definitely anticipating that. I grabbed the hem of the dress and began to pull it up. He stopped me and took over, gently tossing the dress aside when he was finished. The way he looked at me would melt the coldest of women. His gaze was full of fire and delight. And awe for my slender, boy-like figure. As I said, I'm willowy, with slender hips and long legs. I don't have the lush curves of a centerfold.

  I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, sliding the straps down my arms. I watched his Adam's apple bob as I held my arms out to him. He pulled the bra from my breasts and slid it off.

  I am not a full-breasted woman. But my breasts are perky and firm. He looked at them as if they were objects of wonder, the best breasts ever formed.

  I took his hand and clasped it over my breast, resisting the urge to moan as he gently cupped it and stroked his thumb over my nipple. I wouldn't make him ask directions. Much easier to save his pride and show him what I liked.

  "Your turn," I said, pulling his shirt up and off. I allowed myself the same luxury of admiring his firm, ripped chest. "This still isn't fair. You have jeans on and I have only panties."

  He kicked his shoes off. I grabbed his zipper and slid it down with hands that might have trembled just as much as his.

  Excitement. Anticipation. I felt myself coming out of shock and more and more alive by the second. Every touch awakening something in me. Things I'd forgotten. Things I thought were dead. Brand-new emotions that had no names. Being with him, feeling secure and safe, I forgot the earlier trauma of the evening as I slid his jeans down over his hips. He stepped out of them and kicked them away, revealing boxer briefs and a package straining to get out.

  "Satisfied?" He held my gaze.

  I reached out and felt the long bulge in his briefs. "Very. Or I will be in a minute." I let my hands roam to the firm muscles of his thighs.