by Lavinia Kent
“It was pretty great.”
“You made it sound like more than pretty great.”
“Okay, the first time was great. Last night was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I forgot to mention how flexible he is—that part of the yoga talk is definitely correct.”
“Be still my beating heart.” Jordan took a great gulp of wine.
It did seem that if she kept talking about sex, Jordan was letting her off the more serious relationship questions. The questions she didn’t want to think too much about. Still…“I do have one real question. Have you ever been pushed further than you thought you wanted to go?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. Did he force you to do something?”
“No, or not really—although I will be discussing it with him. I just thought I was done and he thought I could go one more and, well, he was right.”
“Are we talking about orgasms?”
And that required her to down half the glass. “Yes.”
“Then no. I don’t think I’ve ever been pushed. I’ll have to ask Clay if he wants to experiment.”
That was something she didn’t need to picture. “Well, I should probably be getting off, then—and no, I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that I should get home and clean the house a little and feed Baxter and—”
“And now that you’ve told me the juicy stuff, you want to be sure that I don’t ask how you feel about him.” Jordan stated it as fact.
Damn it. She wasn’t wrong. If Veronica didn’t have to drive home, she would have downed another glass. “Whatever the reason, I truly should be getting home.”
Jordan eased herself from the pool and went to gather a couple white, fluffy towels from a bench along the wall. She handed one to Veronica as she, too, levered herself up to the tile floor. “I’ll let you get away with it for now. A reward for being as forthcoming as you have and for giving me some new ideas for Clay. However, next time I want to hear all about it, and I’m not talking about the sex. There must be something about him if you’re breaking your rule about men and Forbidden Cove. And I’ll definitely be taking a walk to catch sunset yoga. If you’re not careful, I may even introduce myself and see if he’ll tell me the details you won’t.”
Veronica hurriedly wrapped the towel about herself and headed into the main house to change. “You don’t need to do that. I’m bringing him to Charlotte’s wedding. You’ll meet him there—and you know I’ll answer your questions, just not now.” She hurried down the connecting hall before Jordan could ask any more.
Chapter 12
Six forty-five. It was time to walk over to Veronica’s. Should he bring anything? A bottle of wine? Flowers? He wanted to, but he was afraid that either one would scream date and push her away. He had offered to pick up the pizza, but she’d turned him down, saying she’d already placed an order with Gino’s. Brian hoped that she’d chosen something he’d like. Not that he was picky, but he also wasn’t crazy about mushrooms or those things so loaded with mixed meats that you couldn’t see the crust. He knew men were supposed to like them, but he’d never seen the attraction. If he wanted a pile of meat, he’d eat a pile of meat.
He glanced down at his polo and khakis. Too dressed up? Again, he didn’t want to trigger her date fear. Which made him chuckle. He was supposed to be the one who avoided relationships. Particularly when he had more than enough on his plate and knew he wouldn’t be staying in Forbidden Cove. Maybe in a year or two he’d be ready.
So why was he upset that Veronica wasn’t more interested?
Although she was certainly eager for more after last night. He’d been shocked that she’d contacted him today, and even more that she’d proposed getting together so quickly. He’d fully expected that he’d be the one contacting her in a day or two and that then she’d pretend to resist until finally giving in for sometime next weekend.
And given how well he knew her schedule, thanks to Baxter, he’d have to admit that she actually was more than busy.
He grabbed his keys and headed out the door. No wine. No flowers. He’d play it her way—at least mostly. He wasn’t going to change.
He increased the pace, moving briskly. He was abandoning his nightly yoga, so he might as well see if he could get his heart rate up, although not enough to sweat. He’d save that for later.
And then he was at her house. He stopped, and stared at the second-floor porch. The windows were dark and there was no sign of life. She wouldn’t stand him up, would she?
He strode up the steps, knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Baxter bayed from the back, sounding like a true hound. Brian was about to try one last time when he heard feet on the inside stairs. Veronica hurried down the hall, her face slightly flushed.
Swinging the door open, she stepped back, waving him in.
Her eyes swept from his shoes to his neatly combed hair. “You didn’t need to dress up,” she scolded, but her eyes were laughing.
“I figured I’d leave the ladies across the street with a good impression.”
“I guess I did mention they’d be watching. Mrs. Nelson definitely likes a well-dressed man. Well, I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t. I spent the afternoon with my friend Jordan and got back later than I meant to. I was going to wash and blow-dry my hair—we spent time in her pool—but I ran out of time, so what you see is what you get.”
It was his turn to take her in from head to toe and he certainly had no complaints. Her feet were bare, the toes tipped in red. Her long legs were tan and firm below brief denim shorts, a loose white shirt and then that hair. It billowed about her in a mass of curls, quite different than her normal, sleeker look. “I like it. I like it a lot.” He reached out and pulled one of her curls to straightness before letting it spring back. “I don’t know why you don’t leave it like this.”
“Well, for one thing, because every time I do, people are compelled to do what you just did. I don’t know why everyone thinks they can touch my hair simply because it’s curly.”
Was she lumping him in with everyone? “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m being a bitch. I was on the phone with Charlotte right before you called, and it left me in a bad mood. She spent twenty minutes complaining about something I hadn’t finished at work—never mind that it has nothing to do with her and it’s not due for two more days. I wish I didn’t feel like she’s trying to undercut me.” She stopped talking suddenly and closed her eyes, pulling in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the white shirt.
She opened her eyes. “Sorry. I promised I wasn’t going to let her get to me. Now, should we start this again? Hi, I’m so glad to see you. I stuck the pizza in the oven to keep it warm, so we can eat it anytime. I had a really good day. How about you?”
Now, that was better, particularly when combined with the smile that almost reached her eyes.
“I had a pretty decent day. Not much different than usual. I walked a lot of dogs, took a slow run, and then hit the books for a bit. Most of the time there’s not much difference for me between weekdays and weekends, except that on weekends I walk different dogs, and we tend to have more dogs staying at Aunt Mols’s house because people are traveling.”
“Oh.” And then, “Oh. You’re studying for something?”
“Yeah. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in school, and I’m discovering that I have a lot to catch up on. It’s more difficult now. I used to be good at math but it seems so much harder—and I am not always quite sure why I am studying so hard. I don’t even know when I’ll be going back to school—if I do at all.”
For a moment he thought Veronica was going to ask a follow-up question and he wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted her to, even though he’d definitely opened the door. He had such mixed feelings about where he was in life. It was hard struggling to get back to where he used to be, but he certainly wasn’t ash
amed of it. On the other hand, he’d be much happier to discuss it when he knew how he’d done on the MCATs, when he knew if he had a real hope of medical school. He thought he did, but…
Veronica finally spoke, carefully keeping everything general. “I always hated math. I wasn’t bad at it, but of everything I had to study, it was definitely my least favorite. I understand why it’s important. You’ll never catch me saying that algebra is useless, but I can’t say it’s fun. It’s my least favorite part of the real estate part of my practice. I have to be up on all the numbers and understand what’s what.”
“I’m better at the practical aspects of math. For about two days, I actually considered becoming an accountant.”
She smiled in a way that was joyful, but he wasn’t sure was flattering. “I can’t picture you as an accountant. I work with enough of them, and I don’t think any of them do sunset yoga on the beach.”
Had she seen him? “Are you trying to change the subject? If you don’t want to talk about my life, that’s fine. I’ll let you get away with it—this time. But I don’t really want to spend twenty minutes talking about yoga unless it’s something you genuinely care about.”
Her cheeks grew pink. “Am I that transparent—and that rude? I am not trying to avoid talking about your life—mostly I am just busy dreaming about your body and the things I want to do to it.”
“Well, it’s hard to complain about that, but—”
“But I am being rude.” She turned to the house, leading him in. “Let me get you a drink and then I’ll hear your life’s story. Another beer? I’m still trying to decide between red wine and beer, which I think are the only choices with pizza.”
“I can’t disagree with you about red wine and beer, but I’ll go with whatever you’d like. If that’s not annoying. I can choose if it’s actually easier for you.” He followed her into the house.
“The joy of a man who understands that not choosing doesn’t make things easier for the other person. But I have suddenly decided that I’ll have a beer.”
“Sounds good—the beer, that is. We can make a date for the wine next weekend—assuming you’ll be free.”
She paused in the hallway and turned to face him, indecision flickering across her face. “Next weekend? I guess so—I didn’t know we were at a point that we’d make plans a whole week in advance.”
He knew she meant to sound like she was kidding about them not making plans—but it was impossible not to miss that hint of seriousness. She honestly wasn’t sure about even having this much of a relationship. Was it any wonder he wasn’t pushing to tell her of his future plans? Plans he realized he was quite insecure about. Although maybe she’d be overjoyed to know he planned on leaving town.
She reached out and touched his face. “I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I? This is why I don’t have relationships. I am not very good at them. Why don’t I get those drinks and then we can go sit on the porch again and you can tell me about you’re plans and why you’re studying.” She turned away and strode forward before he could answer.
As they entered the kitchen, Brian could not help staring at the dining table. Memories of the last time he’d been sitting at it were a definite distraction. Were they going to eat there? His mind filled with what he’d been eating last night. His dick grew against his leg. Should he make a move now and forget about his slighted feelings and any pretense at actual conversation? He didn’t want to seem pushy, but she’d been pretty clear this was about sex, and that the pizza was only because it was dinnertime. Maybe it would just be easier to avoid the awkwardness of trying to pretend she cared about his future plans. If she wanted sex, he could give her sex.
He turned and saw that she was staring at the table, too, a beer in each a hand. Her cheeks were the most delicious shade of pink—different than the earlier embarrassed shade. This screamed arousal. He fought for something to say. “I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to blush.”
“I’m not, except that I am.”
He looked at her, confused.
“I mean that I don’t feel embarrassed by what happened, but I flush easily. I used to hate it. Now I simply accept that it’s physical and ignore it. At least I don’t cry when I don’t want to. I’ve always felt bad for women, and it is mostly women, who get all weepy when it’s the last thing they want. Being human is complicated.”
And now she wanted to talk? About how complicated it was to be human? He stepped forward, letting his gaze tell her exactly what he was thinking. “And are you avoiding the subject of the table? Should I have an appetizer as long as the pizza is staying warm?”
She turned to him fully, eyes sparkling, but lips pursed. “I’m tempted to say yes, but I’m not sure I can take it. I’m pretty sore. I probably should’ve waited a few days before calling you, but…”
He should have been disappointed that she was putting him off. Instead he was confused—but in a good way. She’d wanted to see him. His stomach jumped a little. Did he force her to admit it? To admit to some desire to spend time with him that didn’t involve sex. No, he’d let her get away with it, for now. “Does that mean gentle and soft and slow, or does it mean that I should be happy with the pizza and a couple of beers? Which I can be very happy with.” He ignored his dick, which was singing a very different tune. “I never expect sex.” Not even when it was what this whole thing was supposed to be about. Women truly were confusing.
“Well, that’s nice to know, but I was kind of counting on it—on sex, that is.”
His dick did the happy dance.
“Although, maybe we’ll play it by ear. Eat the pizza. Drink the beer. Maybe watch a movie or a couple of episodes of something on Hulu. I was planning on sex, but to be honest, I’m not sure I’m quite up to it.” She gave an exaggerated frown.
“We can go really slow and gentle.”
One side of her mouth quirked up. “The truth is that I’ve never been very good at slow and gentle. I tend to be an all-or-nothing type of girl.”
“Then maybe I’ll have to persuade you.”
She took a long draw on her beer and handed him the other bottle. “You certainly are persuasive. That’s actually something I’d like to talk to you about. Let’s go sit on the couch.”
And that did not sound good, but at least she was talking about sharing the couch, so that wasn’t all bad.
Veronica settled herself on one side of the couch with her feet tucked up beside her, making it clear that he was welcome on the couch but it wasn’t cuddle time.
He took the space left. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
She took a very large pull on her beer. “Last night.”
He hoped that she wasn’t regretting it. “And…?”
“You might have been a little too persuasive.”
“I am not sure that I know what you mean.”
“Things just went a little…you pushed a little hard when you…Damn, it’s harder than I thought to say this. I am not sure I wanted you to force me to have more than one orgasm.”
“I…Well…I…” What did a guy say to that? “I’m sorry?”
She leaned toward him, rested a hand on his thigh. “I need to be very clear. I did enjoy it, I just want to be sure that I am heard if I want things to stop or slow down.”
“I would never want you to feel that I was doing something you didn’t want.” He placed his hand over hers.
“I do know that.” Her face relaxed slightly. “I simply wanted to be sure. I am trying to learn how to communicate better, to be more open.”
He looked down at their joined hands. “So what do you suggest?” He looked up and grinned. “Some type of safe word?”
That made her smile in return. “Oh, I’ve never had a safe word. Even when I’ve role-played.”
“Role-played? Maybe we do need to discuss this. Are we t
alking French maid, or Dungeons and Dragons?”
She rolled her eyes. “Why, do you want to be a dragon?”
“Well, I do like to eat you up.”
“God, I walked right into that one.”
“Yes, you did. But seriously, before we move on, is there anything else?” He liked this lighthearted mood, but he also wanted to be sure they were in complete understanding. “Anything else I did that you didn’t like?”
“Well.” She gazed at him with a very serious expression, not catching the slight hostility of his tone. “I don’t believe I ever said I didn’t like it.” Her fingers began stroking back and forth on his thigh.
Normally, he would have considered that a clear signal, but he knew she was sore and sensed that going slow was the right approach. “So, you said something about a movie?”
Her eyes stayed on his and he could feel her thinking. “Actually,” she said, “I would kind of like to watch a movie. It wasn’t what I’d originally planned for tonight—and I know I go back and forth on that—but if you’re up for it, and we can agree, I’d honestly love to cuddle on the couch and watch something.”
He considered for a moment. “No chick flicks,” he answered. “I know it’s a stereotype, but I don’t tend to enjoy them, and you’ve made it clear that we’re not in a situation that I need to be working at impressing you even when I don’t want to.”
“Please don’t. I hate when people pretend to like something and then it turns out they don’t. But what do you mean by chick flick, just to be sure? Are we talking rom coms or Nicholas Sparks?”
“Nicholas Sparks?”
“Did you see The Notebook?”
“Yeah, more like that, I guess. I’ve never seen the romance in a love story with a sad ending.”
“I’d call it bittersweet, not sad, but I don’t disagree.”
“Although,” he admitted, “I loved Rogue One, and it kind of falls into that category.”
“I bet you like some of those bromance war movies where almost everybody dies.”
