“I was looking at that, actually.”
His approval, such as it was, made her insides tingle. “Yeah, it’s really good. They serve the salmon on a bed of nappa cabbage and slather it with basil mayo, and instead of, like, a normal tortilla wrap, they use naan.”
Eric raised his eyebrows. He seemed impressed. “Sounds like dinner! I’ll go with the salmon wrap.”
Savannah felt a blush coming on, and she wasn’t exactly sure why. “Yeah, I think I’ll get the same. I’ve kind of talked myself into it.”
When the less-than-bubbly waitress came around, Eric ordered a salmon wrap for himself and another “for the lady.” That made Savannah smile so widely her very lips embarrassed her. She’d never been “the lady” before.
“Anything to drink?” their pale and pierced waitress asked.
“Oh, that’s right,” Eric laughed. “I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Ordering the meal before drinks! I’ll have a glass of the house white. Should we make that two, Savannah?”
At the mere mention of her name, Savannah’s heart felt expansive and full. “No, that’s okay. I actually don’t drink.” Setting her hand across her warm chest, she looked to the waitress. “Ginger ale’s good for me.”
Eric gazed from the waitress to Savannah with an infusion of pity and compassion. “I’m sorry,” he said in a tone that seemed way too heartfelt for the circumstance. “I didn’t know that about you. In that case, I’ll just have a ginger ale too.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” Savannah assured him. He obviously thought she was a recovering alcoholic or religious fanatic or something. “It’s really not a big deal. Have a glass of wine!”
“No, no, no,” he said. “After the last two nights, my liver could probably use a break!”
Painfully aware that the waitress was staring daggers at them for wasting her time, Savannah tried not to giggle. “Well, you’re probably right about your liver.” She sent a smile across the table. It was too flirtatious for the waitress not to see, but Savannah was starting to care less and less. “But, seriously, get whatever you like. Don’t keep yourself from drinking on my account.”
Eric watched the waitress place their menus one top of the other on the table, and then scoop them up against her chest. He pursed his lips as if in deep contemplation, and then thumped a decisive fist against the tabletop. “I’ll have a ginger ale, please.”
Rolling her eyes in a not-so-subtle manner, much enhanced by her not-so-subtle eye shadow, the waitress said, “Two ginger ales and two salmon wraps. ‘Kay. No problem.”
“I’m sorry,” Eric said once she’d gone. “I didn’t realize you’re a teetotaler. I hope I haven’t offended you.”
Savannah shook her head as emphatically as she could without giving herself whiplash. “No, don’t be silly.”
“I don’t just mean tonight,” he went on. “I mean coming home drunk last night, and drinking all Stacy’s rum the night before…”
“You actually didn’t seem all that wasted last night,” she assured him. “And the night before…well, I guess I didn’t see you until the morning-after hangover. Anyway, it’s not like I’m sitting here judging people who drink. I’m at a pub, aren’t I?”
Eric chuckled, offering an encouraging nod.
“People always seem to think there’s some serious reason why I don’t drink. There really isn’t.” Savannah took a sugar packet from the holder on the table, shook it against her palm, and then pushed it back in. “I’ve had a drink or two in my life, but I never liked the way drinking made me feel—all wobbly and…I don’t know…like I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t like that feeling, and I figured, why do something just because everybody else does? Or just because everybody else thinks it’s weird not to? You know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Eric confirmed as the waitress plonked their non-alcoholic beverages down on the table. She left before they could even say thank you. “Not big on service here, are they?”
Savannah shrugged. “You’re just used to wining and dining among sophisticates. This is how we insignificant people live.” With a teasing smile, she wiggled her eyebrows as she sipped her ginger ale.
“Wicked girl.” Reaching across the table, Eric swatted her ear and laughed. “Respect your elders, young lady!”
Narrowly avoiding her glass, Savannah swatted him in turn. The moment her fingers touched his soft blond hair, she was transported to the previous night, falling asleep while petting him like a puppy. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to know the cocky smile had fallen from her face. It was obvious from the way he was looking at her—like, if there hadn’t been a table between them, he would have swept her into his arms and kissed her until her clothes fell off.
Savannah pulled back. She quickly grabbed her ginger ale, brought the straw to her mouth, and sipped while Eric looked out across Kingsley’s pub. In an instant, his eyes brightened. “Hey, look! It’s Stacy!”
Though Eric waved both hands above his head to get his daughter’s attention, Savannah didn’t turn around. “Where is she?”
“She can’t see me from way over here.” Eric pointed toward the stage. “Look, she’s helping the band get organized? Isn’t this exciting? My daughter’s a roadie!”
Only a father could be so proud of his daughter for lending a hand to an unknown garage band in a dirty little pub. Savannah still couldn’t bring herself to look. Stacy was probably up there canoodling with Dread Head. The very idea made her dizzy.
How could she sit across from the very handsome Eric and be jealous that Stacy was over there stealing Chris from her? First of all, Chris was just another idealistic college boy. There were plenty like him. Sure, he possessed some intangible quality Savannah found immensely alluring, but she could actually put her fingers on all the personal characteristics she found charming in Eric. Eric had sparkling blue eyes, great hair, a magnificent body—which she’d already seen naked—and he was generous, intelligent, funny, and had the kind of job Savannah believed in. Not just that, but they shared the same taste in food and television!
“Oh, look, look!” Eric whispered, pointing to the stage. “Stacy’s up there!”
Savannah turned around just in time to catch Stacy’s eye. Her pixie face alighted and she waved before wrapping her hand around the microphone. “Hey, everybody! Thanks for coming out tonight. Kingsley’s has been kind enough to let me introduce a great new band called Circle Six. I listened in on their rehearsal this afternoon and, wow, they are amazing. You’re going to love them. Trust me. So, I’m just going to get out of the way and let them do their thing.”
When Stacy slipped out from behind the microphone to climb down from the stage, Savannah bit down on her straw. No wonder she couldn’t find that damn Sailor Moon shirt—Stacy was wearing it! And it looked damn good on her, too. Savannah had to sigh. What difference did it make now? She’d rather impress Eric than Chris, and anyway, the shirt fit tiny little Stacy much better than it would have fit her. With Savannah’s big boobs underneath it, the cartoon character would have looked like a lop-sided bobble-head.
As Stacy took a seat right beside the stage, their waitress came around to deliver two salmon wraps and heaps of fries. Savannah had to peek around the waitress to see a mousy girl with long brown hair approach the microphone. Bringing her hair forward to cover her eyes, she said, “I get nervous in front of crowds, so I’m just going to hide back here.”
“Aww,” Eric whispered. “Poor thing, hiding behind her hair...”
“I didn’t know there was a girl in the band,” Savannah said, more to herself than to Eric.
It was their waitress who responded. “She’s got a really pretty voice, but she has, like, anxiety attacks about singing in public.”
For some reason, Savannah had thought Chris was the band’s lead singer. Maybe because he’d mentioned songwriting when they spoke. But no, Chris stood stage left of the mousy girl and backed her up on the violin as a ne
rdy-looking Asian guy generated atmospheric percussive sounds from a laptop.
“Bands sure have changed since I was young,” Eric whispered as he lifted his salmon wrap to his mouth.
Savannah didn’t respond right away. The music was so captivating she didn’t even want to chew while the band played. And that waitress was right—damn, that girl could sing! Savannah couldn’t exactly make out the lyrics, but the sound of her voice was entrancing. She watched Chris play, though the girl with the long hair largely blocked her view of him. He looked really into the music, like every ounce of his energy was going into producing this wonderful sound.
“What kind of music would you call this?” Eric asked between bites of salmon wrap.
Savannah hadn’t even looked at her dinner yet. She spritzed her fries with malt vinegar before popping a few in her mouth. She didn’t feel right about talking while the band was playing, and so she waited until their first song was done before answering. “I guess you could call this Trip Hop. It’s almost ambient, but not quite. I think of ambient music as not having lyrics.”
“Do you like it?” he asked her.
Even with a mouthful of fries, Savannah nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Oh my god, I totally do. I thought they’d be some stupid grunge revival band, but I love music like this.” She’d already taken a bite of her salmon wrap before realizing she should ask, “Do you like it?”
His voice was high and wavering when he answered, and that made Savannah think he was probably lying. “Yeah, it’s very…mesmerizing. I usually prefer music with a stronger beat, but this is nice.”
Chris was now at the microphone introducing the next song. As much as she wanted to listen to what he was saying, she just couldn’t let herself. “You seem like the kind of person who would like classical music,” she said, to block out Chris’ voice.
With a nod, Eric said, “Yeah, I do, but if I had to choose a favourite it would be old school rock.”
“How old school?” Savannah laughed. “Like Great Balls of Fire or like Smoke on the Water?”
Eric laughed. “Smoke on the Water, I’d say. Or, I don’t know…I mean, The Doors would be the ultimate, right?”
“Well, is this stuff so far off from The Doors?” Savannah considered. “I mean, really, it’s not…”
When the band started their next song, Savannah went instantly silent. Though she hated to do it, she turned away from Eric to watch, and picked food from her plate without looking in his direction. It wasn’t just Chris who had her so entranced—it was the sound of Circle Six. She’d never heard anything exactly like their music. Bands like theirs didn’t get much press, or any radio airtime. If you wanted to listen to this type of music, you really had to seek it out. Savannah was glad she’d stumbled upon this group, even if it was populated by freaks, geeks, and the guy who’d so disappointed her.
By the end of their set, Savannah had enjoyed her fill of fries, salmon, and ginger ale. Eric had cleaned his plate long before, and was obviously holding on for Savannah’s sake. Even the waitress had pushed the bill in their direction. She obviously wanted to seat drinkers of alcohol, who would be inclined to leave her a larger tip. It seemed strange to Savannah, to think that her entire meal cost about the same price other people were willing to pay for one cocktail or glass of wine. But whatever. It was their money.
“I guess Stacy’s too busy with the band to come over and give her old dad a hug,” Eric said, gazing at his daughter as she climbed up on stage to embrace the band’s three members.
Savannah retreated behind the wall of their booth when Stacy started talking to Chris and pointing in their direction. Her heart thumped against her ribs. Were Stacy and Chris talking about her? Or was Stacy just saying, “Hey, look, that’s my dad over there”? Or were they speculating about why, exactly, Savannah and Eric were eating dinner together? What were they saying?
She wasn’t going to wait to find out. Glancing at their bill, Savannah threw a pile of cash down on the table and tossed her bag over her shoulder. Without turning toward the stage, she slipped out of the booth and said to Eric, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Oh. Okay, sure.” He appeared understandably confused, but shuffled out of the booth and followed her quick steps toward the door.
The sweet aroma on the night air calmed her buzzing head. For a moment, she simply stood on the sidewalk outside Kingsley’s and wondered what to do. Right was the direct route home. Left was the scenic path along the river. There were plenty of benches under trees and burnt-out path lights, perfect for making out in public. It was such a romantic walk, that way. Midweek, she’d imagined she’d be taking it with Chris, but Chris was, apparently, indisposed.
Savannah looked both ways, and then turned toward the river.
Chapter Eight
“I hope you won’t find it churlish if I throw a little cash your way,” Eric said, taking his wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a few bills. “To cover dinner, I mean. It’s not because you’re a girl…I mean, a woman…or…well, it’s only because you’re the student and I’m the one with the full-time job, and it’s only fair. Right?”
Savannah stopped walking to lean against the barrier separating the cobblestone path from the moonlit river. His distinguished male feminism made her smile. “Put your money away,” she said, pressing her hand against the bills and his fingers.
A spark passed between them. Savannah couldn’t ignore it, but she couldn’t acknowledge it either. The heady atmosphere of rushing water and pine-scented moonlight made her bold. Eric must have felt the same way, because he moved his hand slowly toward Savannah’s purse, unzipped the outer pocket, and pushed his money inside. Her pelvis quaked as she watched his fingers press that money between fold of supple leather. Already, her body was wet for him, and still the night was young!
“Have you ever cheated on your wife?” Savannah asked. She felt somewhat like a precocious child, looking him straight in his sparkling blue eyes as she posed the question. Yesterday, she’d hoped and prayed the topic of his wife’s affair wouldn’t come up. Now she was pushing for it. Her motives were transparent, even to her—if she got Eric bummed about his cheating wife, maybe he’d be more inclined to give Savannah a go.
Eric seemed to hold his breath for a strangely long time before releasing it in a loud puff. “No,” he said. “I’ve never cheated.”
Grabbing his hand, Savannah sauntered with him along the riverside path. “Have you ever wanted to?”
When he went quiet, Savannah was certain his response would be momentous. Eric wove his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand tight. “I never considered it for a moment until Hilary…” He gazed out onto the river. “…until she did what she did. And now, yes, I hate myself for it, but I want to get back at her. It feels so wrong, this desire to hurt the mother of my child, but…”
“It’s payback,” Savannah said simply.
“That’s exactly what it would be, yes.” Eric let go of her hand and slowed his pace. “But I don’t want revenge sex. I mean, I do, but I don’t. I’m not that type of person. I’ve never made love to a woman I didn’t love. It’s always seemed pointless until…”
Savannah waited, and when he said nothing she asked, “Until now?”
Her heart nearly stopped beating as she waited for his response. She looked to his eyes, but he was still gazing out across the river. His shoulders rose and fell as he took in each breath, and his brow furled as though an internal struggle demanded to be expressed outwardly.
She couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Easing her hands around his middle, Savannah pulled Eric’s body close to hers. He jerked away, but there was nowhere left to go. His backside met with the firm barrier, and he was trapped between Savannah and the river. A rush of feminine wile roared through Savannah’s body. She’d never in her life felt so seductive. The harder she squeezed Eric’s chest against hers, the less he squirmed. Finally, his body weakened, gave up, and then responded.
Taking Savannah’s face in his decisive hands, Eric jerked her head forward. He didn’t kiss her—not at first. His mouth simply hovered against hers as he released tormented, ginger-sweet breath. Passion lingered all around, and the air felt static and thick. Finally, in one violent move, Eric pressed his trembling lips against hers. His body shuddered. She squeezed him tighter. His hard cock pressed against her belly until her panties pooled with warm wetness. How much longer could she stand this sensation of lips on lips before she’d have to kiss him fully?
She didn’t have to wait long at all. Within seconds, Eric launched his tongue between her lips and kissed her like a man maddened by passion. Grasping the back of her head with one hand, Eric sent the other searching her body for anything it could squeeze—her ass, he hips, her thighs, her tits. She did the same, running frenzied hands along his back and clutching his tight ass.
“My god, you have a great butt,” she whimpered.
“My god, so do you!” he hissed into her ear before pulling her back into a kiss from which there was no escape, physical or emotional. She was trapped between the hot silken walls of Eric’s mouth. He might never set her free. As he kissed her, he wrapped firm fingers around her neck. Without warning, he plunged his other hand down the front of her jeans.
Savannah gasped, but Eric would not set her free from his mouth. His fingers swept by her belly before crawling through her bush. She couldn’t believe he was doing something so gritty, but there was no denying it. His fingers found her wetness—not that finding pussy juice under Savannah’s panties was such a difficult task. Hell, her jeans were sopping! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so turned on by a man’s fingers.
She tried to watch for passersby, but the night was dark and any other couple walking along this stretch was probably there for the same damn reason. Besides, who could be offended by such beautiful passion? God, how they must look together—gorgeous blond Eric squeezing supple young Savannah’s firm breast while he played with her clit under a layer of denim. She could see them together in her mind. That vision of enthusiasm encouraged her to rub her mound against his fingers as he stroked her.
Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On Page 5
