And then his mouth was on hers, hot and insistent.
Every single cell in Lisa’s body strained toward the man, fighting to get closer—as if that were possible. They were already pressed against each other, as close as two bodies could get. She clung to his shirtfront and then reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, to pull him more firmly against her.
The kiss probably lasted less than ten seconds, but it felt as if entire lifetimes and universes could fit within its span, as their mouths mated hungrily.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“Well,” Adam said. That dimple popped out on his cheek. “That was...” He nodded. “Something.”
Lisa swallowed, hard, and tried to slow the wild beating of her heart by sheer force of will. She pushed her palms against his chest and took a step back. “Why did you do that? It’s not like there are any paparazzi around.”
“It wasn’t just me doing that, sweetheart,” Adam drawled. His grin widened as he shrugged. “Let’s just say, I figured we could use a little practice. Wouldn’t want our first kiss on camera to be our first kiss, period. But it turns out we didn’t need a dry run, after all.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and Lisa found herself mesmerized. “Seems like we took to that pretty naturally.”
He’d just kissed the life out of her, for practice. To better pretend in public that they were a couple, engaged to be married.
And her body had responded to him as if he were the only man in the world for her.
The next few weeks might turn out to be a little tougher than she’d anticipated, if a single kiss could reduce her to a drooling, pulse-pounding fool.
“Right.” She ran her hands over her hair, as if smoothing it back into place would also smooth her clamoring hormones. “Well. I’ll talk to you later, then.”
She left before she could do anything else stupid, like launching herself at him and begging him to kiss her senseless again.
Chapter 13
____________________________________
Adam’s phone call at eight-thirty the next morning didn’t help much.
Lisa had just gotten out of the shower and towel-dried her hair, and heard the ringing over the ominous whir of her blow dryer. The thing was a thrift store purchase, a monster from the nineteen-sixties, and it sometimes shot out sparks. Every time she used it, she worried it was about to electrocute her any second, so she was glad for the excuse to turn off the behemoth and go answer the phone.
“Hi there. It’s Adam. How are you?”
Her insides leapt and did a fast-paced dance at the deep, smooth sound of his voice. She strove to keep it cool. “Hi. Fine. What’s up?”
“Well, the Dream Date seems to have been a smashing success, so that’s good.”
“Great.” Lisa smiled. She hoped Deb and Doug were on their way to true love.
“Thanks. I really wish you could’ve seen Willie play last night. He was incredible.”
She smiled into the phone. “Willie, huh? So now you two are on a first-name basis?”
Adam laughed. “Well, I did get an autographed picture of him, and he did sign it ‘To my buddy Adam,’ so...” He paused for a beat, and then said, “We really couldn’t have done it without you.”
Lisa rolled her eyes at the way she went all loose and gooey at his compliment.
“Yeah, right,” she joked. “The massages were definitely key to the whole thing. For sure more important than a private Willie-freaking-Nelson concert.”
“I’m serious,” Adam said. “You—and Willow too, of course—you both got Deb and Doug in the right mindset for having a really fun, relaxed, romantic time together. The video footage we shot throughout the whole day was priceless. I just wish I’d thought of having couples’ massages as part of the Dream Date package from the start.”
He actually sounded as if he meant it. “Well, that’s wonderful,” Lisa said. “I’m really glad it seems to have added something valuable to the whole experience.”
“The team and I are leaving town in a few hours,” Adam went on. “So I was hoping I could treat you to brunch first, to discuss our plans. I figured we can work out the details for next weekend, you can ask me any questions you might have, and I can lay on the charm and maybe tempt you into another one of those scorching kisses of yours. You know—if the paparazzi happen to be watching,” he added.
She couldn’t tell whether that last bit was tongue-in-cheek or not.
“So, what do you say? Brunch in an hour? We could meet at that restaurant down the block from the hotel—I think it’s called Fleur de Lis? Or anyplace you’d like.”
Fleur de Lis—another place she’d known about for years, having passed it every day on her way to work, but had never been inside.
Adam sure seemed to know intimately how the other half lived, and to delight in sampling any and all delicacies available to him. And he seemed to love bringing along friends, old and new, to share in the delight.
Lisa couldn’t think of any reason why she shouldn’t enjoy being along for the ride, as long as it lasted. And if being along for the ride meant she also got to enjoy Adam’s company for a while longer...
“Sure, Fleur de Lis. That sounds fine.” She was trying to sound casual, except she couldn’t stop grinning. Thank God they were talking on the phone and not in person, or he’d know just exactly how badly she wanted to see him again. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
She met him at the restaurant, which was on the second floor of an old brick building with a historical designation. The restaurant’s wide, clear windows looked south and east over downtown, and the morning sun shone through the windows, onto the tables and chairs and the polished wood floor. Only a few tables had customers. The rest were empty, and the silver and glassware, all clean and lined up, ready for the day’s use, shone like water in the sunlight.
In short, it was not the kind of place Lisa normally frequented.
Adam was seated at a table for two in a far corner, gazing out the window in the direction of the interstate. She made her way between the tables and sat down across from him.
He blinked as if she’d startled him, and then his face broke into a smile. “Hey.” He stood and reached across the table to take her hand, just briefly, a casual touch. But she felt the heat run up her arm and into the core of her like an electric current.
“You wore the ring,” he observed, smiling as he inspected her left hand. “It really looks perfect on you.”
“Well.” She shrugged, strangely self-conscious. “I figured, if I’m going to play the part... Might as well play the part.”
“In that case,” he said, and pulled her toward him.
He grinned just before their mouths met, and she felt that little, internal Oh, that bump of surprise and recognition that originated deep within her.
You’re in big trouble, girl, some rational, cautious part of her brain warned her, as Adam’s lips met hers.
It was a brief kiss, not like the one they’d shared the day before. But it held banked heat. Lisa felt as if her mouth were tingling when they separated again.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Adam murmured, his smile just a little bit wicked. “We’re supposed to be engaged, remember?”
“How could I forget?” She smiled back at him, mostly for the benefit of anyone who might be watching, and then put her hands safely in her lap.
She glanced around. She’d peeked into the restaurant before, but had never eaten here. Keiko employees even got a discount here, but even still, the place was well outside her budget.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Adam said. “Do you need to get to work soon, or do you have time to eat a full meal?”
“Sunday’s my day off, so I have time.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “And a full meal sounds good, since I’ll probably be having popcorn for dinner, later.”
“I’m sorry?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a personal joke.” When he gave
her a quizzical look, she explained, “I kind of eat a lot of popcorn. Especially at the end of the pay period, when I’m running low before my next paycheck comes.”
She felt herself blush. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much.
But Adam’s smile was big and warm. “Well, this is perfect, then. The bacon and eggs here are phenomenal. The menu says they’re local, organic and free-range. And they have organic strawberries and blueberries, too.”
She raised her eyebrows, surprised he cared about that kind of thing. “Sounds good to me.”
He raised a hand to alert the waiter. “Anything to drink?” he asked her. “Coffee?”
She started to shake her head.
“How about fresh-squeezed orange juice?”
“Well, only if it’s from local, free-range oranges.” It was a stupid joke, but he laughed, and she felt ridiculously flattered.
Uh-oh. It was starting to seem as if she really had a thing for this guy. She was like a famished dog—he could throw her a scrap of pretty much anything, and she’d gobble it up.
Playing to the cameras wasn’t going to be difficult at all.
Adam gave her order to the waiter and then turned back to her, watching her for a moment before chuckling. “What?”
Oops. She’d been staring.
“Nothing.” That wasn’t exactly true. Just how honest could she be with him? Well, she thought, might as well let it all hang out... “Actually, I was just wondering why that didn’t annoy me.”
“What didn’t?”
“Your ordering for me. I usually hate it when a man doesn’t let me order for myself, but for some reason...” She shrugged. “That didn’t rub me the wrong way.”
His eyebrows winged upward. “Well, that’s a good thing. Right?”
“I guess it is.” She couldn’t help the smile that surfaced, but she managed to hide it quickly in a quick sip of water.
He studied her thoughtfully. “You’re always thinking, aren’t you?”
She gave a quick frown. “Of course. Who isn’t?”
“Lots of people. Most people, in fact. I really think most people go through life asleep.” He gazed at her for a second. “And then there are people like you, thoughtful and alert, analytical.”
She squirmed in her chair, uncomfortable under the close intensity of his gaze. “You’re the same way. You’re analyzing me right now.”
He grinned. “That’s true. We’re similar, I think. Although I’m a little better than I used to be at just taking things as they come. I finally realized I don’t have to scrutinize every single little thing in life.”
“I don’t analyze every little thing,” she protested. “I just think people are interesting. I mean, I just observe everyone, the world around me, and I notice things. I can’t help but develop opinions and theories, and—” She stopped and shrugged, feeling ineloquent, and annoyed because of it.
Adam leaned back in his chair, and she found her gaze dipping to the little triangle of skin exposed where the top button of his shirt was undone. He was tanned there, smooth, and she had the irrational urge to reach out and run her fingertips over his skin.
“All right,” he said, “I’m going to take a guess, here. I’m guessing you don’t like it when men order for you because you reject traditional gender roles—men who think they own women and it’s their right to make their decisions for them.” He tilted his head from side to side. “And, of course, with ordering food in a restaurant, it’s not just about not letting you speak up for yourself. There could also be an implicit message that I’m trying to control what you eat, and by extension, how you look, or how much you weigh.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s pretty dead-on. I’m impressed.”
“Well, I owe you an apology. I didn’t think about any of that, when I ordered for you. I just wanted to treat you to breakfast. I can promise you, I have zero interest in controlling you, or what you eat, or how much.” He leaned in. “And just for the record, I think you look...perfect. Incredible. The truth is, you’re so beautiful, it’s kind of hard to concentrate when I’m around you.”
His eyes spoke volumes as he gazed at her with an alertness and intensity that made her breathing go shallow.
He thought she was beautiful, so beautiful he couldn’t concentrate. Even if he didn’t really mean it—it was such an over-the-top compliment, there was no way he wasn’t overstating things—the mere idea thrilled her down to her toes.
Rodney, Mr. Sensitive-New-Age-Guy, Yoga-Guru himself, had never told her she was beautiful. He’d always claimed it was because he didn’t want to objectify her. It had been his own, weird brand of false feminism, and it had taken Lisa some time to realize it was just a convenient disguise for plain, old emotional detachment and unavailability.
And here was Adam Match, blowing the Rod’s fake feminism out of the water with a simple compliment that made her entire body, not to mention her heart, go all warm and gooey.
She knew she’d better pick up the conversational thread before this silence stretched out between them any further. “Um, thank you. For the compliment. And I’ve always been pretty independent.”
He leaned in, intent on her. “And?”
And, what? He wanted to know more? There was another quality Rodney hadn’t had. How pathetic was it that she was so surprised by Adam’s interest in her thoughts and perceptions?
“And, well, I was in a relationship not too long ago where—” She stopped, cleared her throat and waved a hand. “Sorry. I don’t mean to bore you with my personal life.”
“I’m interested in anything you want to tell me.”
She shifted, suddenly irritated—with Adam, with Rodney, with herself. Rodney’s disinterest had conditioned her to feel embarrassed when a man paid attention to her, as if she didn’t deserve it—as if nothing about her could possibly be interesting enough to merit it. Now Adam’s seemingly genuine interest felt so unfamiliar and unexpected, it made her uncomfortable. It was hard to know how honest she should really be.
“Let’s just say,” she said carefully, “my ex made far too many decisions for me, and I let him do it for way too long. So now I’m sensitive to that kind of thing, more than I ever used to be.”
Bringing up Rodney had been a mistake. Now she was tense. She could feel it in her shoulders, where they were hunched up around her neck. She made a conscious effort to drop them and relax. She wasn’t going to do Willow’s deep-breathing exercises in front of Adam Match, but she was damned if she’d let herself get all uptight—again—from thinking about the Rod.
“You seem incredibly strong and independent to me,” Adam said, which somehow made her feel simultaneous urges to crawl under the table and bask in the compliment.
Instead, she cleared her throat. “Look, let’s just change the subject.”
He smiled. “All right. Let’s talk about Houston.”
“Fine.” She paused as the waiter brought her breakfast to the table. “Thank you,” she said to him, and then turned back to Adam. “So.”
“I guess we should do this part first, to make my partner, Dan, happy.” He reached down beside his chair and produced a slim leather folder, and slid out a short stack of pages. “This is a hiring agreement, to cover your massage therapist capacity. And there’s also a confidential disclosure agreement, to protect us both for the term of our engagement.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “I know it’s kind of...bloodless. But it’s just the standard non-disclosure form we use. We have our Dream Date couples sign it, too. It’s just to state that we won’t discuss private matters pertaining to Mister-Match.com with the public or the press.”
“Of course.” Lisa wasn’t stupid—of course she could see the value of a confidentiality agreement. Still, it felt, as Adam had put it, a bit bloodless.
But this was a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less. It was good for her to be reminded of that fact.
“You don’t have to read over everything now, if you don’t want to,
” Adam was saying. “As long as you just get them back to me, signed, by next Friday, when we head to Houston, that should be fine.”
But she was already busy skimming the top page, a typed letter from Adam on Mister-Match.com letterhead, formally inviting her to work for the company and outlining the terms of their agreement, including her hours and pay.
She tried not to let her eyes bug out of her head. “Um, this is even more than we discussed, the other day.” A lot more.
“I put in some extra for your massage table and any supplies you might need.”
She stared at him. “I said a massage table would be five hundred dollars. I think this has an extra zero.”
He shrugged. “I figured you could get a really good one, and then there’s an allowance for sheets, oils or whatever you use, towels. You’ll probably need a carrying case of some kind. You might have to pay someone at the airport or hotel to help out with transporting your gear. Plus, of course, your per diem for the actual Dream Date weekends, multiplied by four weeks. I just wanted to make sure you’re covered for whatever you need.”
With the amount he’d provided her, she could buy out Origins and Sephora to stock a fledgling freelance massage business. “The hotels where we’ll stay might be able to provide the linens we’d need,” she pointed out, trying not to shriek with giddiness at her good fortune.
“Still, better safe than sorry,” Adam pointed out. “You probably want to get nice ones.”
“Sure.” With the amount he was offering her, she could buy thousand-thread-count organic-cotton sateen sheets hand-stitched by princesses. She bobbed her head, trying to act blasé when really what she wanted to do was jump up and do a dance around the table. And then plant a big one right on Adam’s pretty mouth. And then go throw up her breakfast, because what if all of this fell through, and she was rudely awakened from this dream? “Sounds good.”
He squinted slightly as he watched her. “What’s wrong?”
She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It all just seems a little too good to be true, Adam. Way too good to be true, to be perfectly honest. I’ve been living very carefully for a while now, financially and otherwise, and then you come along and make this crazy proposal and sign over a big fat check to me, and suddenly my photograph is all over the Internet, and there’s paparazzi around—” She stopped. “Actually, that’s something I’ve been meaning to bring up.”
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