An Instant Connection: Insta-Spark #3

by Moreland, Melanie

  Luckily, it was thinning out as people hurried to the next phase of their evening, and we were seated right away. I slid into the booth, trying not to grin as he stood, his gaze bouncing between the two sides of the table.

  “I want to sit beside you.”

  I slid closer to the wall. “Be my guest.”

  “But I like to watch the expressions on your face when you talk. They captivate me.”

  His words caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to the easy compliments he threw out. Yet, they seemed completely sincere.

  He slid in opposite me. “Dinner here, dessert there.”

  “What if we don’t make it to dessert?” I teased.

  “Then I’ll move to the bar and drown my sorrows.”

  “Isn’t that a little overboard? We just met.”

  He reached across the table and clasped my hand. Turning it over, he traced the veins on the thin skin of my wrist gently. His touch made me shiver. He met my inquisitive gaze. “I think our meeting is going to prove to be a significant moment in my life.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Our eyes met and held. Sincerity blazed from the depths of ocean blue staring into my startled gaze.

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I had no idea how to respond to such a profound statement.

  Mitch bent low and lifted my hand to his mouth. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the skin.

  “Sorry, I get carried away. My mom and sister tell me to slow my roll all the time.”

  I felt a flash of trepidation. “You pick up a lot of women?”

  He shook his head firmly. “No. I swear to God I am not a player. I just make decisions fast. Moving here, changing jobs, picking an apartment. Going after the prettiest woman who could stop a train with her whistle and sexy legs. That sort of thing.” He winked. “Especially, the pretty woman.”

  I felt myself grow warm under his gaze.

  He chuckled. “I really love your expressive face.” He sat back, but didn’t release my hand. “Surely, your previous boyfriends told you how incredibly pretty you are.”

  I slid back my hand, ignoring the way his fingers flexed, trying to hold it to his.

  “Not really.”

  “Then they must have been blind. And totally stupid.”

  I shook my head, surprised by his words once more. “You can’t say things like that. You don’t even know me.”

  He smirked, draping his arm over the back of the booth. “The evening is young, Mandy. I plan to rectify that.”

  “One night isn’t going to change anything.”

  He shook his head, signaling for the waiter. “That, sweetheart, is where you’re wrong. One night is going to change everything.”

  * * *

  Mitch

  The subdued light in the restaurant played off Mandy’s face, highlighting the curve of her cheeks. I wasn’t joking when I told her I had noticed her, the instant she came around the corner. Her bright red coat had caught my eye, and her long, shapely legs made me sit up straighter and take notice. Her dark brown hair swung freely around her shoulders, and she walked with a sexy, easy grace. When she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled, I was a goner. I was on my feet and headed toward her without another thought. Watching her fist bump the air when the woman caught her bus, made me grin. I was certain she didn’t even realize she had made the gesture. When she sat down and rubbed her calves, it was all I could do not to drop to my knees in front of her and offer to do it for her.

  When I approached her and she lifted her face to mine, my breath caught. Big, mossy green eyes, creamy skin, and lips that were meant to be kissed—by me—greeted me. Her smile was killer, full and wide, even when she was telling me off. Her protests and vain attempts to ignore me only spurred me on. I wanted—needed—to spend some time with her. There was something about her that drew me in. I wanted to figure out what that something was, and once I had made up my mind, I never missed a goal.

  And Amanda Clifford was now a huge goal.

  On our walk to the restaurant, the feel of her nestled into my side was better than I had hoped. She fit there perfectly. She wasn’t a skinny woman that felt like a skeleton. She was curvy and sexy, and I liked how she molded to my body. If I turned my head to look at her, I caught a whiff of her shampoo—fruity and sweet. Or maybe it was her. I was good with either one. I wanted more of it.

  After confirming she liked wine, I ordered a good bottle of red, and we studied the menu. I kept looking up, catching her staring back at me. Her gaze would drop, prompting me to grin. She felt it too. The intense chemistry that hit me the instant our eyes met. I wanted to explore it.

  I wanted to explore her. Every single delectable inch of her.

  “Anything look good to you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She glanced up, her eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Oh sorry, you meant the menu?”

  She furrowed her brow. “What did you think I meant?”

  I leaned closer over the table, smiling. “You. You look good to me.”

  Her cheeks flooded, diffusing her skin with a flush of color that only heightened my attraction to her. She lifted the menu higher, hiding her face. I plucked the offending folder from her hands, setting it aside.

  “I don’t like it when you hide. You are far too pretty for me not to look at.”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” she objected.

  “I have. We’re having the chef’s special menu.”

  “Oh, are we? What if I don’t like it?”

  “Then I’ll order you something else. Tonight is all about spontaneity, so we’ll let him decide what we eat. Any allergies I should inform them about? Strong dislikes?”

  She pursed her lips, then shrugged. “No.”

  “Okay, then. I hope dinner is amazing.” I lifted my glass in a toast. “Just like meeting you.”

  She lifted her glass, touching it to mine. “You’re very direct.”

  “I am.”

  “You say things—things I’m not sure how to take.”

  I relaxed back against the leather banquette and studied her in the dim light. There was something so intriguing about her. I wanted to know her—all about her. And for the first time in a long while, I wanted a woman to know me.

  “You’ll get used to it. I speak my mind, especially when I’m pleased.”

  She hesitated, then spoke. “And I please you?”

  “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

  She shook her head, but the smile on her lips said it all.

  Chapter Two

  Mandy

  He was confident, direct, and blunt. High-handed and bossy. He was also the most courteous date I’d ever had. He made certain I liked everything the waiter brought us, ensured my water and wine glasses were always topped up, listened carefully when I spoke, and he asked so many questions, it was obvious he was listening to every word I said. We talked about a variety of subjects, but never touched on anything too personal. He was well read and intelligent, and we discovered a mutual like of museums and weekend flea markets. We also had the common bond of loving historical architecture. He told me he was a consultant and had started a new long-term project that week. I worried the inside of my cheek when he told me that information. He smiled knowingly.

  “I’m here for at least a year, Mandy. Maybe more. I’m not a hit and run kind of guy.”

  “All right,” I replied, slightly mollified. A year suddenly felt like a short span of time.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a PA in a busy architectural firm for now.”

  His eyebrows rose slightly. “Architectural firm?”

  “Yes. Parson Planners.”

  He took a sip of his drink and frowned. “I see.”

  “I’m looking for another job, though.”

  “Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t like your current job? Are the people you work for unkind?”

  “My direct boss isn’t exactly my number
one fan. We don’t get along. She can be, ah, difficult.”

  “Have you ever told her off?”

  I laughed, because I’d done so in my head many times. “No, I need my paycheck. I do give in and sneak a piece of toffee when she berates me—which is daily.”

  He looked confused.

  “We aren’t allowed to keep snacks at our desk. I hide the toffee under my Post-it notes. I get sick enjoyment eating it knowing it would piss her off.”

  He threw back his head in laughter. “I think you need a new job.”

  “I’ve been looking, and I hope to find something soon.” I sighed. “I might go back to school. Being a PA wasn’t what I planned.”

  “I see. What was the plan?”

  “I wanted to be a teacher. But my mom got sick and I left school to help her. When she passed, I was lost for a while. I couldn’t find my path or make any decisions. This job came up five months ago, and I took it.”

  He covered my hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mandy.”

  I blinked away the sudden moisture in my eyes and cleared my throat.

  “She was a dancer. I always loved to watch her performances.”

  “Explains the great legs.”

  I chuckled. “I got her legs, but not her coordination. She moved like the air. She used to tease me that I was born with two left feet.”

  He met my eyes, his gaze intense. “I like how you move.”

  I had no idea how to reply to his statement.

  I looked down at the table. “I still miss her.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He was quiet, and I could feel it as he studied me. “But you’re ready to move on from your job?”

  I met his gaze. “I think so. I’m never going anywhere there, and I think I’m ready to move forward.”

  A smile played on his lips. “I arrived just in time, then.”

  I tried to hide my own smile.

  I failed.

  He stood and excused himself. I watched him walk away, unable to help noticing that his ass was spectacular. High, round, and firm. I wanted to grab it and see what it felt like under my hands. I was certain it would be perfection.

  When he returned, he smiled widely as he slid back into the booth. “That’s taken care of.”

  I frowned. “Problem?”

  He shook his head and smirked. “Not anymore.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He grinned. “Nothing to worry about. Something regarding work I had to take care of. Now, I can concentrate on the task at hand.”

  “Eating dinner?”

  He cocked one eyebrow at me. “Getting to know you and making sure you want to see me again.”

  I had to laugh as I picked up my glass. His friend was correct—he had great taste in wine. It was smooth and full-bodied. Sort of like Mitch.

  He never stopped. His questions were endless, his humor contagious. He was droll and amusing, disparaging about himself without being too serious. He told me funny stories of his friend Joseph who he had known his whole life, his sister Kris, and his mom and dad. He kept me in stitches with his wicked imitations of when they would get into trouble and his mother would start to yell.

  At one point, I left the table to go to the ladies room. As I washed my hands, I studied myself in the mirror, unsure what it was that he found so attractive. Brown hair, green eyes, and a figure much too curvy to be called slim was all I saw. However, he seemed to disagree. Every time I glanced up, he was staring at me, his frank appraisal making me warm. His eyes followed my movements, watching my fork transfer food to my mouth. He studied my hands when I used them to emphasize a point. More than once, he reached out to touch my hand or arm, even leaning over the table to push a stray curl behind my ear.

  Not one prone to physical contact, I was shocked to discover I liked his affectionate gestures.

  When I arrived back at our table, he stood in one of his old-fashioned gestures, waiting until I slid into the booth. I shivered a little at the contrast in temperatures. The restaurant seemed chilly compared to the restroom. He frowned, and before I could object, slipped his suit jacket off and leaned over me to drape it around my shoulders. He slid in next to me, sitting so close, our thighs pushed together. Casually, he leaned his arm on the back of the booth, his warmth soaking into my side. His jacket was smooth, and his scent surrounded and enveloped me.

  I liked it.

  The waiter brought our dessert and coffee, not at all surprised to find us on the same side of the booth.

  Mitch slid his fork into the dense cheesecake, lifting it to his mouth. His sexy, full mouth that had teased me all night. His eyes shut as he chewed and swallowed. He cut off another slice, holding out his fork.

  “You have to try this. It is amazing.”

  He had done that the whole night. Spearing small bites off his plate, offering them to me, watching my mouth intently as I tasted and swallowed. He licked his lips often, and more than once, shifted in his seat. It was oddly sensual for him to feed me.

  I opened my mouth to accept the bite, then shut my eyes and let the creamy, sweet taste coat my tongue. The tart blackberries heightened the flavor, and a small groan escaped my lips.

  Opening my eyes, I met his staggered gaze. His fork was frozen, hovering over his plate.

  “Mitch?” I asked. “What is it?”

  His fork fell to his plate with a clatter. He turned fully, facing me.

  “What is it?” he repeated. “You really have to ask that?”

  I shook my head, confused. “Yes?”

  He pressed nearer, and without a thought, I turned into him. We were so close I could feel his hot breath on my face. Feel the warmth of his body pressed to mine.

  “It’s you,” he growled softly. “Your enticing mouth and erotic sounds. The way you look at me. Your captivating eyes.” He stroked his knuckles down my face. “Your expressions and your laughter.” His voice dropped further. “I want to kiss you right now. Please tell me I can.”

  My breath faltered. I didn’t know this man. I had met him a few short hours ago. But somewhere between his directness, his teasing, our non-stop conversation, and his sexy, over-the-top commentary, that had ceased to matter. I wanted him.

  And I wanted him to kiss me.

  Senseless.

  He smirked—wide, knowing, and confident.

  “Not a problem, sweetheart.”

  Then his mouth was on mine.

  I didn’t think we could get closer. I was wrong. He yanked me to him as if I was a lifesaver and he was a drowning man. His lips slanted over mine, demanding, yet tender. Our mouths moved, sliding and molding to each other. His tongue slid along my bottom lip, and with a sigh, I opened for him.

  Desire, hot and intense, exploded. His taste overwhelmed me. He fisted my hair, tilting my head, going deeper. He consumed me. His tongue stroked and teased. Tasted and explored. He tugged me with both hands, almost pulling me onto his lap, his hand on my hip, curving to form to my body. He surrounded me, and everything outside the booth ceased to exist. There was nothing, nobody, but him and me. His chest rumbled in pleasure as I weaved my fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, playing with the strands, and caressing his skin.

  With a low moan, he pulled away, dragging his lips along my cheek to my ear. “You are even more than I hoped,” he murmured. He teased the skin of my neck, making me shudder in delight.

  “Your skin is so soft,” he breathed into my ear. “I want to know how it feels against mine. All of it.”

  “Mitch,” I whispered. “We just met.”

  “I know,” he acknowledged, his mouth ghosting over my cheek, kissing me again. “Tell me you feel this connection.”

  “Yes.”

  “Come to my hotel.”

  My breathing hitched. “I… We…”

  He shook his head. “I expect nothing. I promise. I just want you alone. I want to kiss you properly.”

  I lifted one eyebrow in disbelief and ran my fin
gers over my lips, still feeling his mouth. “That wasn’t properly?”

  He captured my hand in his and kissed the knuckles. “More, then. I want to kiss you more.”

  I hesitated.

  He smiled and once again stroked my cheek. “It’s fine, Mandy. I understand. I wouldn’t normally move so fast, but I have to admit, I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.” He removed his arm, and slid back, picking up his fork. “I can be patient. You’ll be worth the wait.” He smiled. “We’ll be worth the wait.”

  His words disarmed me. I was shocked how much I immediately missed his warmth. A flicker of disappointment went through me at his easy acceptance of my hesitation.

  Even though, I knew that was silly, I should’ve been grateful he didn’t push the issue.

  Right?

  * * *

  We finished sharing dessert, and when the bill came, I picked up my purse.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he informed me with a glare. “I asked you to dinner. When we’re on a date, or wherever, I will take care of the bill.”

  “Is this a date?” I asked.

  “Yes. Our first of many.” He stood, extending his hand. “Will you walk with me for a bit before I put you in a cab to go home?”

  “I can take the bus.”

  He rolled his eyes, tugging me from the booth. “You obviously haven’t been treated very well by your old boyfriends. The likelihood of me allowing you to take a bus home after a date is about the same as me being able to resist kissing you again tonight.”

  “So, not good then?”

  He grinned and dropped a hard, fast kiss to my mouth.

  “Impossible.”

  We left the restaurant hand in hand. There was no false pretense about him as he tucked me close to his side. The streets had thinned out, but as usual, there were still lots of people milling around.

  “Where to?”

  He smiled. “At the risk of you walking away, the bar in my hotel is on the top floor. Great view at night and it’s only a couple of blocks away. We could have a drink, and I promise to escort you downstairs after and send you home in a taxi.”