“Maybe we should,” he said abruptly.
“Should what?” she asked.
“Really date.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” he said.
Shannon clutched her chest and laughed. “Oh, be still my heart. Why not, he says. Now those are words to warm a girl’s heart. Why not? It’s sort of like saying, Do you want a cheeseburger and having someone answer, Sure, why not?”
“Come on, Shannon, that’s not what I meant,” Nate protested.
She continued talking, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I mean, if this is how you sweet talk women, it’s clear why you’re not married and your mother is pining away after a grandbaby.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Nate said. “I sweet talk women just fine.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shannon slid closer to him and looked him right in the face. “Say we were dating for real. Pretend I’d invited you in and we were sitting next to each other on my couch. What sweet-nothings would you whisper in my ear?”
His face was a hand’s length away from hers. She looked right into his dark brown eyes. No, not quite brown. That was too plain a word to describe the rich color. They were the color of coffee. A perfect mug of Columbian coffee that had been hand roasted to perfection.
“Come on, this isn’t fair,” Nate protested. “You’re putting me on the spot.”
“Ha. I rest my case. You, Nathan Calder, are no sweet talker. A man who was used to using smooth words on women wouldn’t have any problems coming up with something on the spur of the moment.”
“Hey, I can smooth talk as well as the next guy,” he said.
“Let me just say, ha, again.”
“Stop ha-ing me.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Okay, I’ll give you that you talk as smooth as the next guy, but only because guys don’t talk smooth at all, unless it’s in the movies. And then they only manage it because it was probably a woman writing the script. Men wouldn’t know a sweet word if they had a giant thesaurus in front of them.”
Nate actually shook a finger at her as he said, “That’s a totally sexist thing to say. Men don’t need a woman’s help to smooth talk a woman.”
“That was a rather convoluted sentence, don’t you think? And you shook your finger at me like I was some kid that needed scolding.”
He dropped his hand on his lap. “I did not.”
“Hey, I know a finger-shake when I see one and you definitely shook.”
“Shannon, I don’t shake fingers.”
“Ha. You’re a finger-shaking, non-sweet-talking … man.”
“There you go, ha-ing me again.”
“Finger-shaker.”
“Ha-er.”
They both paused, faces inches apart and as if on cue, they both burst out laughing.
Nate managed to stop laughing long enough to ask, “Why are we fighting? We’ve done it. We totally freaked your mom out, and even though my mom loved you yesterday, we’ll get her next time. So why are we fighting?”
“Why not?” Shannon said with a huge grin.
His smile was a mirror image. “You know, you’re a rather annoying woman at times. But then, I think that’s a feminine trait. Annoying men.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s sweet talk if I ever heard it.” She batted her eyelids and sighed, “Your melodic prose set my senses aglow.”
“You want sweet and smooth? How about this? You’re eyes are like …” He paused, and the pause dragged on until it had become silence.
“Oh, you smooth-talking, sweet-worded man, you.”
“Hang on. Give me a second to put this together.” He took a deep breath and said, “Your eyes are your most striking feature. Oh, when people meet you, they probably think it’s your hair—that fire-engine shade is an attention grabber. But anyone around you long knows it’s not the hair. You’re eyes they … sparkle. They show your every emotion. They grab a hold of a guy, like some sort of charm, and don’t let go. I’ve seen those eyes, your eyes, in my dreams every night since we met.”
Shannon laughed, but it sounded forced even to her ears. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“What? You don’t seem amused any longer. Is this making you nervous?” he challenged.
“Why would I be nervous?”
Shannon asked the question because, to be honest, she didn’t have a clue why Nate was making her nervous, but he was. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating.
Maybe she was sick?
Maybe she was having a heart attack?
It would serve him right if she was. After all, he was the one making her feel this way. Elevating her blood pressure to such a degree that some vessel was bound to give way.
“Maybe you’re nervous because I’m looking at your eyes and it makes me wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”
“Why would looking at my eyes make you wonder about kissing me? You’d think my lips would do that.”
There. She’d told him. Eyes didn’t make people think about kissing, but lips did, and looking at Nate’s lips, Shannon was pretty sure kissing him wouldn’t be a hardship.
“No, just like you’d think your hair should be your most striking feature, but it isn’t, it’s your eyes, not your lips that makes me thinking about kissing you. Looking in them, I feel as if I’ve known you forever, and I feel a need to connect with you and that’s what makes me want to kiss you. A soft, sweet need to connect.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice soft and breathy to her own ears. “That was a pretty smooth line.”
“It wasn’t a line,” Nate said, inching closer, closing the slight distance that separated them on the couch. “I’m serious. I want to kiss you.”
“But, this is all pretend. It’s not as if we’re really dating, or anything.”
“Who says we couldn’t?” he asked.
“Couldn’t kiss, or couldn’t date?”
“Both.”
“Me. I say.”
“Why?”
Looking at his lips so close, so tempting, Shannon almost wanted to say why not and just kiss him. But she resisted the urge and said, “Listen, I’m not ready to settle down. I like my life. I like sappy movies and not having to shave my legs. I like doing what I want and not worrying about someone else.”
“Me, too.”
“You like watching sappy movies?” she asked.
“No. Not that part. But I do like my life the way it is. Uncomplicated. That’s the beautiful thing about our … well, whatever it is we could have. We’re coming into it knowing what we want. Uncomplicated. If I ask you out and you don’t want to go, you can feel free to say no. And vice versa.”
“So what you’re suggesting is we date, but not really.”
“We’d date enough to keep our moms off our backs.”
“So, more than just a couple dinners. An on-going casual dating thing? That’s what you’re suggesting?”
“Yeah,” Nate said. “As if we were friends.”
“Buddies.”
“Pals.”
“So,” Shannon said, dragging the word out. “If I were to ask if you wanted to watch a movie tonight?”
“Then I’d say I’d much rather kiss you.”
“And if I did kiss you?”
“Then I might be tempted to try something more.”
“Okay, so let’s not take a chance on tempting you,” she said. “At least not yet. Let’s just watch a movie.”
If Nate was annoyed that she was avoiding kissing him he didn’t show it. He simply smiled and asked, “What movie?”
“Something old school. Terms of Endearment?”
“No way. That’s too sappy for any self-respecting man.”
“Steel Magnolias?”
“Even more no way.”
“Are you too manly to watch a chick-flick?” she asked with a grin.
“Yeah. Just call me Bull, Ma’am. If it don’t got blood and guts, I don’t watch it.”
“Terminator?”
“Terminator?” That stopp
ed him. “You’ve got a copy of Terminator in with all those girly films?”
“When you get down to the core of the story, it’s a love story.”
Shannon had always loved the sweet poignancy of the couple’s love in the midst of such horrible odds.
“No way is it a romance,” Nate protested.
“When’s the last time you watched it?”
“I don’t know, but I know Arnold doesn’t make chick-flicks.”
“Terminator it is, then.”
Nate looked at the woman curled in his arms. Shannon had fallen asleep sometime before the end of the movie. He hadn’t noticed right away. But gradually, she’d leaned his way, pressing her warm body against his.
Leaning closer and closer.
He’d wrapped an arm around her and had enjoyed the sensation of just holding her.
The credits rolled and he smiled.
She’d been right, Terminator was a romance, though he’d never thought of it that way.
His smiled faded.
What on earth was he doing?
He was holding a sleeping woman in his arms and he felt … almost content.
He’d never even kissed her.
They’d talked about kissing, but hadn’t.
Instead they’d simply enjoyed watching a movie together. Shannon had made them popcorn and they sat on the couch like some old married couple watching a movie.
He noticed a stray piece of hair, falling over her eye. It just barely touched her eyelid because her hair was so short.
Normally he liked long hair on women, but on Shannon … well, the short cut worked. It fit her personality. It sort of said, wild and free-spirited. But what her hair didn’t say was sweet. No, that’s where her eyes came in.
Thinking of her eyes made him think about all the stuff he’d said. Sweet, goopy sort of stuff. Where on earth had that come from?
It was well after midnight—well past the time for him to leave—and yet he’d stayed. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t bear to wake her. He just wasn’t ready to go yet.
The phone rang, jarring him from his musings. Who would be calling her this late at night?
Shannon didn’t even move.
Without thinking, Nate grabbed the phone, which was on the end table next to him.
“Hello?” he asked in a hushed whisper.
“Who is this?” a female voice asked.
“Who are you trying to reach?” he countered.
“Shannon. Shannon O’Malley.”
“She’s sleeping right now. Could I take a message?”
“Is this Bull?”
“Yes,” he answered slowly.
Who was this? He was sure it wasn’t Mrs. O’Malley. He’d recognize her voice. “With whom am I speaking?”
“With whom? That’s pretty classy speech for a biker. I’m Shannon’s sister, Kate, by the way.”
“Ah, Kate. The runaway bride.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to wake Shannon.
“She told you?” Kate asked, surprise evident in her voice, even through a phone-line.
“You’d be surprised how much she’s told me,” Nate said.
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to carry out his act for Shannon’s sister, but he wasn’t going to take a chance. If she wanted to explain their relationship and ruse later, that was up to her.
“Well she hasn’t mentioned you to me,” Kate said.
If he wasn’t mistaken, she was annoyed now.
He grinned. “I’m not surprised. We’ve only known each other a short time.”
But it didn’t feel like a short time. Other than their short awkward period tonight, Nate felt as if he’d known Shannon a long time. A very long time.
“Tell me about yourself,” Kate said. “I got a phone call from my mother, all frantic that Shannon brought you to dinner. You’ve got Mom totally freaked out, you know. Something’s up.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’d give the phone to Shannon and let her answer your questions, but she’s sleeping. Would you like me to leave her a message?”
“You’re answering her phone after midnight because she’s sleeping?” Kate asked slowly. “That in itself says a lot. No, don’t leave a message. I’ll call back tomorrow.”
“Great. Good night.”
He was ready to hit the disconnect button when he heard Kate say, “Hey, Bull?”
He put the phone back to his ear. “Yes?”
“If you hurt her I’ll come after you.” Her voice was serious.
Very serious.
“Shannon likes the world to think she’s tough, but underneath all her bravado, she’s not so tough at all. She’s totally soft and vulnerable. I won’t have you toying with her.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he said.
“I mean it.”
“I know.” He paused and added, “It was nice talking to you, Kate.”
“It was interesting talking to you, Bull.”
He hung up and glanced at the woman still sleeping in his arms. The video had turned itself off and there was some late-night infomercial about some kitchen appliance on the television.
Nate didn’t need to slice or dice anything bad enough to pay twenty-nine, ninety-nine for it.
He should go.
It was late.
And yet, he didn’t move. He went back to studying Shannon and wondering what he was doing here, why he was so reluctant to leave.
Sunlight tickled its way beneath Shannon’s eyelids, rousing her slowly from whatever she’d been dreaming about.
It was one of those grey, fuzzy sort of dreams that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but she did know that it left her feeling warm. Not in a heat sort of way, but in a comfortable sort of way.
She lay in that halfway state between sleep and wakefulness and realized something wasn’t right.
She kept her eyes closed and tried to decide just what was amiss through her sleep-fuzzed brain.
It took a minute to realize what was out of place. That it wasn’t a pillow cushioning her head. No, it was something harder, warmer. Something that rose and fell in a rhythmic sort of way. Something like …
A body.
More specifically, her head was cushioned on someone’s chest.
Her eyes popped open as the realization struck with full force. She was on the couch in her living room sleeping on Nathan Calder’s chest.
How on earth had that happened?
The night came flooding back at full-force.
They’d freaked out her mother, come home, talked about kissing, and a casual dating relationship, then watched The Terminator. Only she didn’t remember the end of the movie. She remembered sharing popcorn and sitting next to him …
And now she’d spent the night with him.
She grinned.
Oh, that would fry her mom’s butt.
She chuckled at the thought. It was enough to shake Nate from his sleep. She felt the change in his breathing pattern and knew he was awake before his eyes even opened.
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
He sat up and pulled back, distancing himself from her. “Shannon, I’m so sorry. I meant to get up and go right after the movie, but you were sleeping so peacefully, then your sister called—”
“My sister? Kate called here?”
“And we talked for a while, then I was going to go, but I sat a moment and next thing I knew … well, this was the next thing I knew. I’m sorry.”
“Nate, it’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve …” he paused, obviously searching for the word. “Imposed. Yeah, imposed. I didn’t mean to.”
“Nate, really it’s fine.” She didn’t want to tell him that she sort of enjoyed waking up next to him. That she liked the warmth of his body. She could tell him there was something rather comfortable about snuggling next to him. She could, but she wouldn’t.
She simply repeated, “It’s okay.”
“But—”
“No harm, no fou
l. I mean, it’s not as if you compromised my virtue.” She didn’t add that compromising with Nate was starting to look sort of appealing.
She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, knowing that appealing wasn’t quite the word she’d use to describe her morning look.
“I guess you’re right,” he said slowly. “After all, I didn’t even kiss you, so your virtue is still very much intact.”
“There you go. See, no problem. Tell you what, if you give me a couple minutes to grab a shower, I’ll even play hostess and offer you breakfast.”
“Yeah?” he asked with a grin.
“Yeah.”
“Does your hospitality extend to letting me grab a shower as well?”
“I’m pretty sure that the book on etiquette my mother gave me when I turned sixteen would demand that I—”
“Offer a guest a shower?” he filled in.
“Yeah.”
Nate laughed. “You’re nuts. Go get your shower and I’ll make myself at home. I’ll even make the coffee since you’re making the breakfast.”
“Oh, you are a true gentleman, Bull.”
“Yeah, Roxy, I try.”
Shannon scampered off to get her shower and Nate watched her disappear down the hall.
He’d just spent his first night with her.
And he realized he didn’t want it to be the last night they spent together. Not that he was looking for anything permanent, nothing like his mother envisioned. But more nights with Shannon … that he could handle.
Nate poked around in her kitchen, locating the coffee and the filters in the cupboard over the coffee maker. It was a small kitchen, bright, without all the loud colors his mother favored. No, this was softer with a lot of white’s and pale yellows.
It suited Shannon.
He’d just got the coffee ready and had pushed the button to start it when he heard the front door open.
“Shannon?” a voice called.
A voice Nate recognized immediately.
Well, Shannon wanted her mother to believe they were an item, and it appeared she was going to get that wish answered in spades.
He walked out of the kitchen into the living room where a very annoyed looking Mrs. O’Malley stood.
“I saw your motorcycle in the drive,” she said, disapproval evident in her voice.
How to Hunt a Husband Page 6