by Megan Hart
"It's just another date," she said quickly. "Not a boyfriend. I'm not ready for that."
Bev gave her another long stare. "Arden, you know I lost my husband before I married your dad, don't you?"
"Of course." Bev's first husband had been killed in a car accident.
"Do you know how old I was when that happened?"
She'd never thought about it. To her, Bev had always been Mom, ageless, the same now as she'd been the first time she met her, only now with a few more gray hairs and wrinkles.
When she didn't answer right away, Bev answered for her. "I was twenty-seven."
"What?" Arden sputtered a moment. From the back room, giggles exploded into a few whining shouts, then died down again. "Wow. I didn't know."
Bev nodded. "Younger than you are now."
Arden shook her head. "I guess I never thought of it."
"I was thirty when I married your dad. Still younger than you are now. It might surprise you to learn your dad was not the first man I dated in those three years. He was just the last." Bev smiled.
"How long did it take you to start dating again?"
Bev thought for only a second. "About six months."
Again, Arden was surprised. "That seems--"
"I know. It seems like a short time. Well, Arden, I should tell you those first few dates had very little to do with my being ready to move on, or to find a new relationship. To put it bluntly, I was lonely, and I wanted companionship. Not love, necessarily."
This was sounding a little too close to home. Arden busied herself with putting away her supplies before she looked up at Bev. "This was Lida's idea."
Bev rolled her eyes. "I guessed that."
They shared a laugh.
"It's just a date, Bev."
"I know, honey." Bev hugged her hard, then stepped back. "Just be careful, that's all."
Arden heard the patter of feet and nodded. "My girls are the most important thing in the world to me right now. You know that."
It was Bev's turn to look surprised. "I didn't think otherwise. I was telling you to be careful about yourself, Arden. I know you'd never do anything that would harm the girls."
Then they had no more time to talk because Aislin and Maeve had come back into the shop in a whirlwind of chatter, two long pieces of net draped around their heads like turbans, identical grins making it impossible for her to get irritated.
"Hugs and kisses." Arden squeezed them both to her. "Have fun with Gran and Grampa."
Bev winked. "We'll have a great time. And you have a great time, too. Don't worry about us. We're going to stay up--"
"All night!" The girls chorused, giggling.
"All night," Bev repeated with another eye roll and began to herd them out the door.
Arden stopped her. "Bev...Mom..thanks for everything. For keeping the girls...for everything."
Bev reached out to push a piece of Arden's hair behind her ear. "You're welcome, honey. Believe me, it's my pleasure. Have fun tonight."
The shop seemed extremely empty after they'd gone, but Arden stayed only long enough to turn out the lights and lock the doors. Then she was out to the street, in her car and heading home to get ready for her big night.
* * * *
Philip was absolutely, positively gorgeous. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, smile as white as pure mountain snow. He was tall and fit, and a very snappy dresser. In short, he was everything Lida had promised and more.
Arden had underdressed in an ankle-length black skirt and a striped top, a cardigan thrown over her shoulders in case the restaurant's air conditioning was too high. She'd applied her makeup carefully and pulled her hair into a pretty braid, but still felt dowdy in comparison to the godlike man before her.
Philip didn't seem to be put off at her non-goddess like looks. He smiled and got up from the car he'd been leaning on. A dark blue Lexus--nice car, just like Lida had said. "Hi, Arden?"
She nodded and held out her hand, then almost pulled it back. Was it appropriate to shake hands with a man she was supposed to be propositioning? Philip took her fingers and gave them a squeeze. For one heart-stopping moment, Arden thought he meant to kiss her fingers. Relief flooded her when he didn't.
"Should we go inside?"
She nodded, then cleared her throat. She didn't want to come off like an idiot, but afraid of sounding overeager, she just said, "Okay."
Philip held the door for her, pulled out her chair and opened her menu for her with aplomb. And he managed to all of that without making her feel awkward. Bonus points for that, she thought, trying not to stare.
He was an easy man to get caught up in watching to the exclusion of all else. Kind of like looking at the sun. Beautiful, but it could burn your eyes. Arden blinked and forced herself to look down at the plate in front of her. A single, lonely dinner roll squatted on the plain white china. Tiny pats of butter shaped like roses tempted her to take one. By the time she'd buttered the roll, she was staring at him again.
"Lida tells me you've only been back in Annville for a couple of months."
Arden nodded and washed down her miniscule bite of roll with a swig of iced tea. "Six months actually."
"You have a shop? Bridal shop?"
"I'm a seamstress," she explained. "My store's right down the street. Across from the Allen Theater. I do bridal gowns, special occasion dresses, costumes for the Renaissance Faire. Stuff like that."
He made an impressed face she didn't assume was faked. Either he really was impressed, or he was very, very good. "You made the dresses in the window?"
"Yep. That was me."
"Wow." Philip chewed his own roll for a moment. "I'm in banking."
Arden nodded, not sure of what to say. Small talk should be easier than this, especially with a man so smooth. And yet...despite his gorgeous good looks and pleasant personality, she was having a bit of difficulty relating to him. All she could think about was the possibility of being naked in front of him. It made blasé dinner conversation seem a bit purposeless.
The silence must have stretched on too long for his comfort because Philip leaned across the table to say in a low voice, "Lida told me about your husband. I'm sorry."
She waved her hand to put him at ease. "Don't be sorry."
Philip's handsome mouth frowned ever so slightly. "I know you're just getting back on your feet, so to speak. I just wanted to let you know, there's no pressure about tonight."
Oh, brother. Arden swallowed some more tea, while she thought of what to say. His words were kind and nice, and still made her feel like an idiot. Like the girl in high school who had to settle for her friend's younger brother taking her to the Homecoming Dance.
Philip smiled. "Let's just have a good time, okay?"
She nodded and smiled in return, though hers felt false. "Okay."
To her surprise, from then on, she did. Philip was adept at weaving the conversation around points that interested both of them and steering it away from subjects that led to awkward silence. He asked her about her job without sounding patronizing, her kids without sounding insincere, her interests without sounding flattering.
Dinner was over before she knew it, and she'd actually eaten. They shared a slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Philip paid the bill, and by the time they were out on the sidewalk again, Arden was even more surprised to recognize she didn't want the night to end.
"I had a good time," she said. "I mean, I'm having a great time."
Did that sound too eager?
Apparently not, because Philip grinned. "Me, too. Want to go someplace else? Or do you need to head home for the babysitter?"
"No. The girls are with my parents for the night." Shit. That sounded like a come on.
His eyes flickered, his grin widened a trifle, but he didn't pounce on the chance to seduce her. "Do you want to go have a drink? Go dancing maybe?"
Arden laughed out loud. "I haven't been dancing in forever."
"Then it's time, don't you think?" He held out his hand. "
C'mon. The Cadillac Grille has dancing, and it's right down the street. Nothing too upscale, I promise. I think it's 80s night."
She laughed again. "Sold!"
The Cadillac Grille was packed. Arden glimpsed some familiar faces from high school, but they belonged to people she hadn't spoken to for more than fifteen years. It felt funny to go over and start chatting, so she kept close to Philip.
He took her by the hand to lead her through the crowd, and she got another surprise. She didn't mind. His hand was large, the fingers long, and he engulfed her hand with warmth that didn't feel threatening at all. It felt nice. When was the last time anyone other than her kids had held her hand?
They found a small table and Philip ordered drinks. Dark beer on draught for him, a wine cooler for her. "I'm a real lightweight," Arden said over the sound of the music coming from the tiny dance floor. "I'd better only have one."
Philip nodded. "Sure. Want to dance?"
She wasn't quite ready to tackle that, but was saved from rejecting him by the arrival of their drinks. She sipped her drink and toyed with her napkin. The music and noise of the crowd made conversation difficult, and Philip didn't push it. Instead, he tapped his fingers along with the beat.
Being with him had somehow become easier than she'd expected. She risked another look. He was Fine with a capital F, as Heather would say, and when he turned to catch her gaze with his own, Arden didn't look away. His smile sent a shiver down her spine, straight between her thighs. Her nipples perked. Definite attraction.
For one instant, Jason's face flashed in her mind, but Arden pushed it away. Jay was dead. She was not. If she wanted to get back to living, now might be the night to do it.
"Come on," she said. "Let's dance!"
He got up and followed her to the smaller room where the dance floor was set up. She'd picked the song because it was one of her favorites and easy to dance to, but it ended just as they got to the dance floor. The DJ decided the time had come to encourage all the couples bumping and grinding to get a little more serious. He started playing Madonna's ballad "Crazy For you."
Too late to back out now.
Philip pulled Arden into his arms as smoothly as though she'd always been there. Her cheek rested against his chest. His hands cupped her waist. He led the dance, and like everything else he'd proven good at this evening, he was a good dancer, too.
I'm horny, Arden thought as Philip's hands stroked her back and tangled in her hair. Her breasts ached, the nipples pebbled and rubbing against the silk of her bra. Between her legs, her clit began to throb with every brush against her satin panties. Her thighs rubbed, creating delicious friction, and slickness coated her.
He'd be a great kisser, too, she just knew it, but Arden could not find the courage to lift her face to his. They'd just met. But wasn't this why she'd gone out with him tonight? It was stupid to fool herself into thinking this was just a normal blind date.
Philip took the lead. His lips brushed the side of her neck. Her clit jumped, her nipples got even harder, though she wouldn't have thought they could. Her breath caught. He kissed her again, his hands making sensuous patterns on her back, sliding over her ass, moving up her sides to brush his thumbs on the underside of her breasts.
Arden looked up, meaning to tell him she wasn't ready, that she should just go home, but she didn't have time to say anything because he kissed her. And it was good. Damn fine, she heard Lida's whisper in her head, and Arden opened her mouth to Philip's lips.
His tongue dove inside, but didn't plunder. He took his time, stroking and teasing her with his tongue and lips until her entire body quivered with arousal. She opened her eyes when he pulled away. The song had ended, replaced by another bouncy 80s pop tune. They'd look like idiots if they kept slow dancing, but Arden wasn't sure she could stand if he let go of her, her knees had gone so weak.
Philip pulled her toward the edge of the dance floor, out of the way of the other dancers exuberantly bouncing to Cyndi Lauper's "She Bop." He tilted his head to look at her, like he was waiting for her permission to kiss her again, and something in her eyes must have given it because he did.
The second kiss was even better than the first. Like that first bite of chocolate after dieting for a month, the first drink of cold water after running in the sun, the smoothness of a soft pillow and flannel sheets after undressing in a winter-cold room, Philip's kiss transported Arden out of the tiny, riotous bar and straight into a lust-induced fantasy.
She could do this. Take this man home and fuck the living daylights out of him, no strings attached, just give her body the relief it craved. He was gorgeous, he was nice...he was waiting.
But she couldn't bring herself to just say, "Let's blow this Popsicle stand and screw like bunnies."
Philip nodded at the dance floor. "Want to dance some more?"
Again, he'd said the perfect thing. She did want to dance. Dance the way she'd done in eighth grade, wild limbs and flying hair, dance until she was exhausted. Because it was fun.
He pulled her back onto the dance floor and they began to bop. At first, despite herself, Arden felt self-conscious. Then, looking around, she realized she had no reason to be. Most everyone in the place was half snockered, or didn't care. Everyone was dancing like junior high students. She wouldn't be out of place at all.
So she danced. And it was fun. More fun than she'd had in...well, she couldn't remember how long, and Philip, good sport, kept right up with her. He bought her drinks, too, and danced attention on her in a way that made her feel like the Prom Queen she'd never been. It might be because he figured her on being a sure thing tonight, but even though there were definitely prettier women there, more scantily clad (she saw Samantha's mother there, too, bottle-blonded and Mary Kayed, resplendent in leather pants and a tank top) he didn't pay attention to any of them, even when they tried to catch his eye.
He left her to go to the bathroom, and while he was gone, Arden felt adrift. Not lonesome. More like uncomfortably aware of how much a meat market this place was for a single woman without a date. She kept her eyes flicking back and forth so as not to attract attention. When she saw him across the crowded room, his blue eyes shining in the 80s disco ball reflected light, it was like a voice came out of the heavens and whispered in her ear, "Tonight."
She'd made her decision. Tonight, Arden Walsh was going to go all the way. With Philip, super-stud, who came so highly recommended.
"You're smiling." He leaned over to shout in her ear. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Arden replied and linked her fingers through his. "Let's get out of here, okay?"
He nodded, understanding. His tongue swiped across his lips and the glint in his eyes didn't come from the disco ball any longer. At least, she didn't think so. It had been a long time, Arden thought, but not so long she couldn't remember what it was like to see lust in a man's eyes.
It gave her a warm feeling. Hot, actually. Heat seared her nipples, between her thighs, the sensitive place at the back of her neck, the spot Philip's fingers now stroked as he led her expertly through the gyrating throng toward the front door.
Just before they got there, Arden saw him. Shane Donner, staring at her from a tiny side table. His eyes were in shadow, but she'd recognize that full, pouting mouth anywhere. It quirked at her, not quite a smile, but more than a frown, as she passed. Her eyes sought his in the darkness of his corner, but she couldn't catch his gaze, though she was more certain than anything he was staring right at her.
Then the moment passed. The door opened. Philip drew her out, his palm warm on hers and his fingers tightening as he pulled her into his arms just off the concrete steps leading up to the bar. His mouth found hers, his kiss as sweet and erotic as the other two had been, but this time, he added a question.
"Do you want me to take you back to your place?"
A simple question, and a considerate one, but Arden knew they both understood what he was asking. She nodded, not quite able to speak. Philip kissed her again, s
ofter this time, then let his lips rest on her forehead for a moment before he whispered in her ear, "I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't glad you said yes."
The warm moistness of his tongue teased the curve of her ear, and she shivered. Lust knocked her knees loose, or maybe it was the wine coolers, and she had to hold tight to his arm to keep from stumbling. She was really going to do this. Sleep with a man she barely knew. Fuck a man she barely knew, she corrected herself, using the blunt word to reinforce her decision.
They agreed he'd follow her to her house in his car. The ten-minute drive seemed to last forever, an eternity before she pulled into the narrow, cracked driveway and slipped the car into the garage. She met him at the side door to the house, the more private entrance. She couldn't do anything about his car in the drive, but she didn't need the entire block to be able to see him going in with her.
Before she opened the door, Philip kissed her again. More passion this time, enough to push her up against the metal door to the house. He lifted her leg and caressed her thigh, urging her to press herself against him. Taken by surprise, Arden let him. His hand held her leg as he dipped a little to push his cock against her crotch.
Arden let out a small sound of surprise Philip must have taken for assent because he rocked harder against her. His mouth opened more, his tongue twirling on her own. His other hand came up to caress her breast, finding the nipple with ease and thumbing it until it stood out in a taut, hot peak. His mouth found it next, wetting her shirt and capturing the bud of flesh between his lips, while his hand went to probe and stroke between her legs.
Sensation assaulted her, and though she'd wanted this, asked for it, had even anticipated it, all at once it overwhelmed her. She pushed on Philip's shoulders. His hand moved faster between her legs, his fingers unerringly finding the magic button and rubbing it through her underpants. Her hips moved and her pelvis rocked against his hand because, damn, it felt good to have a man's touch there. Behind Arden's closed eyes she saw dark, thick hair, shifting blue-green eyes, an arrogant smile. She smelled Drakkar instead of Polo, felt the smoothness of a creaking black leather jacket beneath her fingers instead of smooth cotton.