by John Corwin
"Perfect." He grinned. Took my hand and guided me outside.
"But I really must get home," I said. "It's a school night."
"It's early." He led me down the street.
"I was joking about heavy metal." I slowed my footsteps. "And it is a bit late. I have to be at work early."
"Don't be an old maid." He pointed to a sign down the street. "That's where we're going. Do you like pie?"
"Oh, I love pie," I said again, unable to bite my traitorous tongue. Damn that thing, it was definitely going to get me into trouble tonight.
We stepped through a door into a foyer. To the left was a pastry shop. A heavyset bouncer guarded a downstairs entrance to our right from where loud music echoed. Approaching the counter, Thomas smiled at the girl behind it. "Two slices of chocolate pecan, and two decaf lattes."
The girl gave Thomas a dreamy look for a second before nodding and taking his order. He motioned me toward a table.
"This really isn't good for my delicate figure," I said, sitting across the table from him.
He raised an eyebrow, a little smirk playing about his lips. "I think it would take quite a lot to spoil your figure." He leaned closer. "Miss Glass."
Even with my coat still on, I shivered and my toes curled in my shoes. "Are you wearing some sort of pheromone-enhanced cologne? Or chocolate deodorant?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, never mind," I said. There was no way I'd let this man know what sort of effect he had on me. Or the effect he apparently had on other women as well.
The cute girl from the counter dropped off our pie and lattes, lingering for a moment to look at Thomas with big doe eyes, and ask him if there was anything else he could possibly desire. "My shift ends in an hour," she said, not concealing her intentions whatsoever.
My forehead pinched in confusion as I looked from the fair maiden to the older man.
"I'm with a friend," he said with a broad smile.
She sighed longingly and went back to her onerous duties.
Thomas shook his head and turned back to me. "You're gonna love this pie," he said. "Best in town." He took a bite, closing his eyes and sighing. "Mmm. So good."
There was something oddly sensuous about his enjoyment. Well, two could play at that game. I cut a piece. Locked my eyes onto his, and slid the fork into my mouth, pursing my lips as suggestively as possible. Chocolate and pecan ignited my taste buds in a blissful explosion. I closed my eyes and moaned in genuine pleasure. "Oh, it really is yummy."
I opened my eyes and saw him regarding me, a somewhat stunned look on his face. He recovered. Smiled. "It is, isn't it?"
A little part of me was thrilled to see his response. I'd never been as good with men as Isabel. Her exotic looks grabbed men by the tender bits and drew them to her like a sexual vortex.
"You liked getting a reaction out of me, didn't you?" Thomas took a sip of his latte. "Be careful. You might get more than you bargained for."
"I'm always careful, Thomas."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" A wink. "Careful not to suppress too much, or you might explode one day."
"Is that hope I hear in your voice?"
He chuckled. "So, how do you like the new job so far?"
"It's been absolutely lovely, what with Sandra throwing up and me spilling coffee all over you."
"What do you want to do when you grow up?" He winked. "And don't say princess."
I felt my lips spread into a smile. "When I grow up? Oh, I don't know. I'd like to be an executive with a corner office, and a bunch of plushy pens on my desk."
"An executive with plushy pens?" He laughed. "So you want to boss people around, is that it?"
I shrugged. "It sounds like fun."
His eyes twinkled. "You are too much, Emily."
I smirked. "I'd like to think I'm just enough."
We finished our pies and lattes in an unfortunately short period of time. I could have savored that pie all night. Thomas stood. Stretched. Two women seated at a nearby table watched him the entire time, leaving me somewhat bewildered. Nothing new with this man, I supposed. Perhaps knights in shining armor emitted a glow I was unaware of. I sniffed the air, questing for the telltale scent of mind-altering cologne, but smelled nothing but coffee and the slight odor of something burned.
As we made for the door, Thomas turned toward the bouncers on the stairs instead of heading outside. Music thudded from below. "Got your ID?" he asked.
"But, it's late," I said in protest.
"Are you my grandmother?" he said, laughing.
I didn't even want to imagine what age that would put me at, and shook my head. "Yes, I do have my ID," I said in a terse voice. Oh, I'd show him whose grandmother I was. I was young. I was the Energizer bunny, damn it. When he came to work all bleary eyed in the morning, I'd be the one laughing.
We headed downstairs, the music booming loud enough to vibrate every molecule in my body. People my age danced in a rectangular room with a bar at one end and a stage with a live band playing. I had to admit the music was of the alternate rock variety I liked. Thomas directed me to the floor and started to prance about like a loon. It took all my willpower not to burst into laughter as he performed something resembling a chicken dance alternating with raise the ceiling.
Not that dancing was my forte. Usually several strong drinks were required before I loosened up. Still, nothing could look as ridiculous as his little caper. I moved side-to-side, wiggling my hips about, hopelessly trying to channel Isabel's smooth eye-catching form.
Thomas stopped dancing and laughed. He guffawed so hard, he doubled over, holding his stomach. I froze, mortified.
"What do you find so funny, Mr. Jones?" I yelled to be heard over the music, except at that moment, the band went silent, and my comment broadcast all about the room.
He caught his breath, shook his head, and assumed a serious expression. "Nothing at all."
"It's that time of the night," the lead singer of the band shouted. "Who's first?"
"First?" I said, as Thomas took my arm and moved us toward the stage.
"Karaoke time." He winked.
"Absolutely not!" I said tugging desperately to free myself from his grasp.
He gave me a devilish grin and stopped at the stage. "I have a volunteer."
The singer looked at me, a smile widening across his face. "What song, cutie?"
"I am not, I repeat, not volunteering to sing," I said, giving Thomas a stern look.
"Fine," he said, shrugging. "Guess I'll do it then."
"You up for it, grandpa?" the singer said with a teasing laugh.
"I was singing for rock bands when you were pooping your diapers." Thomas flashed a confident grin, hopped onstage with ease, and took the microphone. He turned and shouted something at the band, causing quite a few of them to break out in laughter.
The bass player started strumming a very familiar beat. Thomas, still facing the band, spun and shouted, "I like big butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny, when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and round thing in your face, you get sprung!"
My eyes went wide and an embarrassed flush ran across my skin. "Oh lord," I said, ready to flee as Thomas performed a white boy dance while he sang, rapped, and quite likely committed multiple crimes against humanity.
The crowd went wild, laughing and singing along, girls sticking out their bottoms and wagging them about, even if they didn't possess posteriors with the qualities espoused in the song.
The band seemed to love it as well, adding their own alt-rock twist to the melody. I couldn't help it, really I couldn't. But the mood pulled me in, and I laughed and sang along as Thomas, looking quite the fool, and at the same time, quite the man, gave a performance I knew nobody here would soon forget.
When the song finished, the crowd erupted into cheers. Several of the nearby women seemed to unconsciously gravitate our way. A young man thrust shots into our hands, and a big group formed around Thomas and me. Caught up
in the moment, I held my shot glass high with the others and downed it, savoring the rush of fire in my throat and feeling as if something inside me, something I thought had died long ago, came back to life.
This is fun!
Thomas wrapped an arm around my waist and swung me around. I laughed. He set me down, and suddenly it seemed there was no one else in the place with us. His eyes and mine locked. Time seemed to linger in place. My stomach tingled. He caressed my cheek with a hand. Leaned in, and kissed me.
A shiver ran up my spine. My stomach muscles clenched. His lips were soft, gentle, so warm. His whiskers felt rough against my chin. An electric thrill ran from my lips and into my lower belly.
He jerked back, a surprised look on his face, mouth slightly open while the group around us cheered us on. A troubled look crossed his features, though he quickly covered it with a smile. Bowing and thanking our new acquaintances, Thomas took my hand and pulled me through the crowd. We emerged outside, the cold biting into my skin after the heat of crowded dancing bodies. I was still flushed and slightly perspiring beneath my clothes. Thomas, though a bit rumpled, hardly seemed affected by the sudden transition in temperature.
"Is anything the matter?" I asked, wanting him to turn and kiss me again. To see if it felt the same way the second time.
He looked over his shoulder, eyes scanning. I turned and looked, but saw nothing.
"Nah, it's just late," he said. "Time for you to get home."
"But—"
"We'll have to do this again sometime."
I could tell by the tone of his voice he didn't mean it. Something was wrong. I planted my feet and jerked him to a halt. He probably could have pulled me along easily, but stopped and turned, sighing.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked.
"It's—you were right earlier." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's not a good idea for us to do this."
"And you waited to kiss me before figuring this out?" I said, anger loosening the knots in my stomach. "Does my breath stink?"
He smiled. "No, not at all—"
"Do I kiss poorly?"
"Emily, no." His voice grew quiet. "If anything, it's the opposite. I never—" he touched his lips, eyes staring into space as if remembering the feeling. "It made me shiver."
My anger changed to confusion. "Then what's the problem?"
"There is no problem." He looked away. "And that's the problem."
"Kiss me," I said.
"What?"
"Kiss me. I want to see if it was real. To see if it feels the same."
Thomas shook his head. "Not a good idea. Really not."
"Don't you dare turn me down, Mr. Jones, or I will be very cross with you." I put all the fire I could muster into my eyes.
He backed up a step, waved his arms in surrender. "Fine, fine. But I won't be held responsible for the consequences."
Consequences be damned. I wanted to see if the first kiss was a fluke. If it had been all in my mind. If—Thomas cut off my thoughts as he drew near, one hand pressing the small of my back, the other hand taking my jaw in a gentle caress.
He leaned in close. Drew in a deep shuddering breath. "You are trouble."
Our lips met. The heat from his mouth ran down my neck and into my legs. My knees went weak, nearly buckling, but his hand at my back steadied me. My stomach muscles tightened, and I felt a leg lift off the ground. I could practically feel the electric current pulsing between us. I felt his warm body press to mine. Felt his excitement grow against my leg.
Oh lord. This is most certainly trouble.
The kiss seemed cut short when he pulled away, or perhaps time had simply stopped flowing. My breath shuddered in my lungs, and the air suddenly seemed much colder without his warmth against me. I could not stop looking into his amazing green eyes, nor stop the wondrous expression from spreading across my face. How could this be? Who was this man, and what had he slipped into my drink to make me feel this way?
"Who are you?" Thomas said, the slightest glimmer of a smile in his eyes. "And what have you done to me?"
"Those were the exact questions I wanted to ask you."
"I asked first."
I shook my head. "I can't think straight right now." My hand still rested on his shoulder.
He reached up and took it into his, weaving his fingers with mine. "It's late, Emily. I'll see you home." He stepped to the curb and waved down a taxi. Handed a bill to the driver. "Goodnight."
"Y—yes. Good night, Thomas."
He brushed his lips against mine. "Sweet dreams."
I dropped into the backseat of the taxi and sat there for a moment before the driver prompted me for my address. I shook the cobwebs from my head and told him. Looked out the back window to see Thomas standing there, his eyes never leaving the taxi, until he faded in the distance.
During the short drive home, confusion mingled with my elation. Worry gnawed at my insides. What in the world had I gotten myself into?
Chapter 6
"Oh my god," Isabel said, her eyes going wide when I spilled the beans to her. She wore pink Hello Kitty lounge pants, a black T-shirt, and was nibbling the chocolate from a Dove bar. "You did what?"
"I kissed my boss." Technically, he wasn't my direct boss, but he was a boss. And the kiss had been far more exciting than I really wanted to admit.
She jumped up, pausing the reality show on the television. "You're making up for lost time fast, girl! Tell me all about it." She ran to the fridge. "Want a Dove bar?"
I nodded.
"Some wine?"
I looked at the time. It was almost ten. But my nerves felt jumbled and my mind replayed the evening over and over again. "Yes, please."
Isabel smirked. "Oh, this must really be a humdinger."
I accepted the ice cream bar and glass of wine, sampling each before launching into my oratory. By the time I'd finished, Isabel was on her second ice cream treat and another glass of red wine.
"He's the guy who saved us from the asshole in the alley?" Isabel said. "Are you freaking kidding me?"
"It's all rather surreal." I used my lips to pull the last bit of ice cream from the stick. "I wonder if I've been drugged."
"Oh, you're drugged all right." She grinned. "What a cool date. I hate it when guys take me to a fancy restaurant, and think it's gonna get them in my pants."
I smiled. "Because they don't even need the dinner do they?"
Isabel gasped and laughed. "You are so mean."
"Mean, but right?"
"I'm pure as the wind-driven snow, I'll have you know." She stuck her nose in the air and huffed.
"That's my Izzy."
"So." She gave me sideways look. "Are you going to do him?"
A flush ran up my face. "Am I what?"
"Gonna do the tango? Let him ride in the trunk?"
I swatted her shoulder. "You have such a filthy mind."
"Filthy in a good way." She held up her wine glass. "Here's to awesome dates, amazing kisses, and well-hung knights in shining armor."
I clinked my glass against hers. "I can drink to that."
"So is he?"
"Is he what?"
"You said you felt him during the last kiss. Is he well hung?"
I laughed. "I didn't exactly break out the tape measure."
Isabel gave me a curious look. "But did you feel him? You know, do the crotch test? I do that sometimes when I'm thinking I might want to do a little something-something."
"Good lord no!" I shuddered. "I just felt him against my leg, you little pervert."
She cackled with laughter. "You're so uptight, Em. You really need to loosen up. Don't let the asshole in your past ruin sex for the rest of your future."
Some of the fun went out of the evening as I thought of him. I stared forlornly at my half-empty wine glass. "Well, I should be going to bed."
"Aw, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Isabel's eyebrows pinched with worry.
"No, it's not that. I really need to sleep. Early morn
ing."
Isabel touched my arm as I tried to rise. "Em, I know you don't like to talk about it, but you're letting he-who-shall-go-unnamed control your life. He's a total douchebag with a tiny little dick. Do not give him this kind of control."
My heart ached at her words. At the thought of my ex. I knew she was right, but it was so hard to forget and move on. "Peter doesn't actually have a tiny dick."
She burst into laughter. "How would you know? Have you seen any others to compare it with?"
"Of course. I—I've seen pictures. I'm not completely sheltered." I shrugged. "And I did have a boyfriend in high school too."
"As if I don't remember Dave. I still don't know how you resisted that boy."
"We messed around a little."
"And you're just telling me this now?" Isabel looked hurt.
"I was embarrassed." I looked away from her. "You know how hard it is for me to talk about that stuff."
"That stuff is called sex, sweetie." She sighed. Chuckled. "You're hopeless. How in the world you could be my best friend and still remain so uptight is beyond me." Her hand squeezed my arm. "I've failed you. I know that now. It's time for me to take you under my wing and teach you karate." She said the last word in a terrible Japanese accent.
We burst into laughter. The pain lifted from my chest. Listening to her might be a good thing, I supposed.
"It's so strange. Most preachers' daughters go crazy in college," Isabel said. "Your dad must have really frightened the hell out of you."
I shook my head. "Yeah, right. My dad doesn't scare anyone."
She chuckled. "I know. He's such a nice guy. You do realize he and your mom had to get it on for you to come into this world, right? Even preachers have to—"
"Oh, ugh!" I said, holding up a hand and gagging. "Don't say another word."
We talked a bit more, and then I headed to bed. The wine must have done a number on me, because I didn't lay awake for long before drifting to sleep.
Excitement fluttered through me as I prepared for work the next day, despite the ungodly hour. I caught myself humming Thomas's karaoke song from the previous night, or rather trying to rap under my breath as I put my lunch in a container.
