One to Love

by Michelle Monkou

  Gentle. With a soft touch, featherlight, his lips brushed hers. Yet its connection pulsated with megawatt power. His mouth slid over hers, pressing its warmth and request to enter. Belinda had no reservations about offering an open welcome. She gripped his T-shirt, holding him in place, although they were already locked in each other’s grasp.

  Their mouths danced a slow waltz in tune with their own beat. His arms embraced, drawing her into his chest. He led. She followed. Their rhythms combined in a heated parry of tongues. She pressed her breasts harder against the brick wall of his chest. Definitely not the only place that hungered for him. Her thighs pressed against his, wanting more, needing and hungering for all of him.

  She broke free. Her lips practically pulsed like a sound wave after the effect. Her chest rose and fell. “Damn, you’re good. A 10.” She nodded. “Definitely, a 10.”

  “And I’m still willing to make a fantasy or two come true...for you.” He winked.

  “Hurry and finish up here,” Belinda begged. “See you at the house.”

  “Can’t wait.” Jesse sent her off with his sexy grin.

  Back at the house, Belinda couldn’t sit still on the couch. Her mouth still tingled in happy recall of each kiss. The man had a stronghold on her emotions. But she wasn’t worried that the one-way road still existed.

  The bulge in his pants had spoken volumes. No words necessary. She’d wanted his attraction. From her vantage point, he had more than a little attraction. And that was just fine with her.

  Her fingers trailed the outline of her mouth, running over the surface that he’d kissed. She pressed them against her lips, hoping to replay the pressure of his mouth. Only the real deal could make her panties wet with desire that she could barely contain.

  Now she acted like a college girl prepping for a date. Restless and excited. Her nerves hummed on a frequency level that only needed Jesse’s response. Thank goodness no one needed to see her pacing in at the window, where she had a constant lookout. No sign of Jesse yet. Besides, he had to leave to clean up. How to stay occupied until he arrived?

  Her phone buzzed. She looked down at the text from Fiona.

  Feel like a movie later?

  Belinda typed, Can’t.

  K. Staying in?

  Nah. Got a date. Belinda couldn’t deny the ego-driven smugness with that nugget. Her cousin would definitely not let that bit of news pass without comment.

  Sure enough, her phone rang. “Hello, Fiona. What can I do for you?” She couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Don’t play with me. Spill. I want every word. No shortcuts.”

  “Remember I told you about Jesse, the contractor who I fired?”

  “Nooooo.” Now it was her cousin’s turn to laugh heartily. “Figured there was something else floating around over the entire affair.”

  “It’s not that funny.” Belinda defended, not sure if the joke was on her. “It was a mutual thing. Grown-up-like.”

  “Yeah, you hussy. You’ve had your eyes on him ever since he walked into your office.”

  “But I didn’t act on it until I knew for sure that he also felt the same way. I don’t plan to be the type of woman pining over a man.” That was for dreams at night.

  “Good to hear. Don’t want to lose you over some dude. Remember Lionel Waters? Handsome, but a big jerk. Now you know that Dana and I have to meet the man in charge of snagging my big cousin’s heart.”

  “Snagging my attention? I have my heart on lockdown. And don’t mention Lionel. It took too much effort to get him to finally take no as no.”

  “I’ll back off...for now. Where are you going on your date?”

  “We’re staying in. I offered to cook.”

  “See, you are a romantic.”

  Belinda jumped in. “Not listening.”

  “Whatever. Dinner is more private. You can sit and hang out as long as you like. And you already know that you can cook like a master chef. Look at you putting a spell on your man.” Fiona’s teasing got Belinda to laugh, dispelling some of her nerves.

  She didn’t brag about her cooking to many. A short stint at culinary school provided enough knowledge for her to play in the kitchen with her own recipes. Between Fiona and Dana, they had mastered the art of begging her to cook them a Belinda original.

  “Plus, by having it in your house, you have more control if you wanted to take him to bed.”

  “Fiona!”

  “What? Don’t you crave sex sometimes? I know you’re not getting any. Heck, I’m not getting any. Need to take care of that.” Fiona’s voice drifted.

  “I don’t want to know your sex schedule. Let’s get back to me.”

  “Does your dude feel like he has long-term potential?”

  “Not so fast. We pressed lips together and that was about it. Nothing that says my bed is the next base for him to tag.”

  “I’m all for taking it slow and being careful. I’m a cop. But you are the most sensible person I know. Remember our message to Dana. The same applies to you. Go with the flow. So change your sheets with fresh ones, and spray some lavender over the linens.”

  “I’m beginning to change my perception of you.” Belinda wrapped up the call with Fiona. She returned to the window to check for an update. The phone call may have distracted her long enough to have missed his departure.

  And then there was her advice about the bed linens. Belinda headed to the hallway and pulled open the closet. Not that she had tons of bedsheet sets, but picking the perfect one wasn’t a simple task. Flowers. Prints. Solid. Pastels. Would it even matter when they were locked in each other’s embrace?

  Belinda grabbed the nearest set and headed to her room. For good measure she lightly sprayed the air and let the scented water fall onto the sheets. Nothing might happen. Or a whole lot could go down. Either way, preparation and readiness were key to maintaining control of the situation.

  Chapter 7

  Standing at the front door, having pressed the doorbell, Jesse truly felt like a young man on his first date ever. Once more, he inspected the flowers he’d bought for her. The process of picking out each flower had taken longer than expected. They couldn’t be bruised or wilted. Jesse wanted his bouquet to be a picture of perfection.

  “Come in.” Belinda opened the door. Her welcoming smile had the power to lift the nervous tension off his shoulders.

  “You look beautiful.” And she did. Her hair was loose and down on her shoulders, framing her face with only a hint of color on her lips. The sundress with its spaghetti straps hung loose, but still sexily draped over her body. Her creamy brown skin sparkled against the orange-red splash of color. Her bright smile reached down and stroked him awake. He had to control the urge to drop a kiss on her...just because.

  “Thank you. Come in.”

  “You know I’m flattered that you want to show off your cooking for me.” He placed his hand over his chest. “Honored.” He was touched that she felt comfortable with him.

  “Just means that you’ll have to impress me next time.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He had no idea how he could possibly top her culinary skills. But in the meantime, he presented the flowers. “For you.”

  “I love tulips.” She hugged him and quickly released with a breathy laugh.

  “Now, if I’d bought daisies, you would have said the same thing.” He barely recovered from the quick press of her body against his. Trying to be a gentleman was going to be difficult this afternoon. Their mutual attraction fed off their energy with a massive appetite, getting stronger and bigger. Like the rising bubbles in a corked champagne bottle, at some point there would be an explosion. And he looked forward to it.

  “I do love tulips. One second.” She headed into the kitchen to tend to the flowers. Minutes later, she emerged with them beautifully arranged
in a simple glass vase. Also pinned between her arm and body was a small book. She set down the vase, then retrieved the book.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “A book on flowers. I might be working on a flower box for the deck.” She walked to the sliding doors and pulled back the curtains.

  Jesse flipped through the book and easily found the chapter on tulips. He quickly read their history, from their beginnings in Turkey to the seventeenth-century tulip mania in Holland and its now worldwide place as a favorite. What quickly caught his eye was the expression that it conveyed was perfect love. Immediately his neck grew hot.

  Love, the emotion, was so far from any goal in his mind. And the word perfect, when it came to him, didn’t fit well and felt like a distant spot out of reach, a satisfactory state that he didn’t feel he’d earned. His family bonds, in particular his relationship with Diego, were too rocky and deserved his attention to fix them. He snapped the book shut and handed it back to her. Why did she have to show him that?

  Instead, he focused on the deck and the places she pointed to for the flower boxes. Those mundane details he could handle. They were hard, tangible tasks that were easy to accomplish, had a start and end date, and then allowed for movement on to the next project.

  “Are you a vegetarian?” she asked as she headed toward the kitchen.

  “Only when the meal may be unappetizing.”

  “I’ve got a couple pieces of salmon marinating.”

  “Salmon sounds good. Need any help in the kitchen?”

  “No. But you can come and keep me company. I can find out what makes you tick.” Again, she made his heart drop with her wide smile.

  “What do you want to know?” He leaned against the open doorway leading into the kitchen. Waiting. She might be a fussy cook who didn’t like to have interlopers hovering around her. Plus, he liked seeing her relaxed, smiling, talking without the wary glances she seemed to have reserved for him.

  “Did you get kicked out of soccer for drugs? Last thing that I saw online.”

  “Well, now, don’t hold back.” That bold question had been asked as soon as he announced his retirement. Reporters had descended on the clubhouse with scenarios that would force him out of the league. Answers he wouldn’t provide or that weren’t salacious enough got embellished, until one reason seemingly stuck. He had been discovered using steroids. He had grown frustrated defending his skills and athleticism.

  “Should I have asked a more acceptable question? I wanted to clear the air of any questionable stuff.”

  “I appreciate your directness. But I’m not, nor have I ever been, a user of drugs or banned substances. Clean bill of health. I had a choice of retirement to make and I made it.”

  She paused with her hands under the running water, her gaze on the window over the sink. “Do you ever second-guess that choice? Or the reason for taking it? Seems to me, from a client’s perspective, that the decision has taken you way off the path. You don’t ever want to be part of the pro-soccer world again?”

  Jesse entered the kitchen and sat on the other side of the counter. “I entertain doubts on a daily basis. Maybe not as strongly as before, but they do swoop in. I’ve gotten this far on gut instinct.”

  “Have you ever been wrong?”

  “Sometimes. But most times, I’ve been right.” He wanted to add, Like now, with you. But his confession felt too personal and intimate.

  She pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and poured two glasses. “Here’s to good things happening because of it.”

  “They already are happening.” He tapped his glass with hers. “Good and unexpected.”

  “I like that phrase. Makes me think of you.”

  Jesse had never navigated his social life blindfolded. Most of it, he controlled according to his rules. In the case with Belinda, the rules not only didn’t apply, but his brain ceased to function on too many tasks.

  He’d tried to stay out of her way. Obviously she wasn’t going to help him with his plight. Showing up at the stable smelling so damn good. He knew of no other woman who could rock a pair of jeans like her. He didn’t have to rely on memory with her standing so close. His desire wanted out.

  Though absolutely refreshing and candid, Belinda was the exception to the women who threw themselves at him. When he’d first met her at his unfortunate firing, he’d wanted her. When she’d taken them to Sunny Dale, and he listened to more of her vision, his respect for her grew. Today when she stepped into the barn and watched him, it took everything in him not to turn and acknowledge her presence.

  Her entrance had created a shift in the air. Her scent reached him as if mailed on express delivery straight to his nose. Surreptitiously, he checked her out, knowing the possible consequences. Hammering the nails could have ended with a bloodshot finger every time he inhaled that blasted perfume. Its vapor trail seductively hovered under his nostrils.

  Right at that moment, he knew that he couldn’t let her leave without telling her how he felt. His stomach had churned with so many nervous jitters that his condition embarrassed him. With every ounce of ego, he tried to maintain a cool facade. She didn’t need to know how aroused he became when the smallest movement from her, such as licking her lips and playing with the strap of her dress, or the way her dress draped itself on her backside as she moved around the kitchen, spoke to him like a second language.

  * * *

  Belinda wished she could blame her runaway tongue on the wine that she’d sipped while cooking salmon. That wasn’t it. This man had captured more than her interest. What the internet didn’t provide in personal information, she aimed to get from him. Talking about silly things while making their dinner was a waste of time. With Jesse, time felt in short supply. She didn’t hold back with what she wanted to know.

  In those stormy, gray eyes, she sensed that he was sitting still in Midway for a quick minute. Then when the time was right, he’d lift off, maybe circle over for nostalgia’s sake, before leaving. His interviews corroborated her theory with no mention of anyone, outside his family, who could anchor him. Soccer was the “other” woman in his life. She didn’t believe that the breakup was clean or permanent.

  “That was delicious.”

  Belinda slapped his hand away when he tried to clear the dishes. “Don’t mistake this for domesticity. When you cook for me, it’ll be my turn to sit back and watch you.”

  “There will be a next time?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Damn straight, it is.” His smile turned into a wide grin.

  She loaded the dishwasher and cleared up the kitchen. She accepted his compliments of his appreciation.

  “Why so thorough with your questions? I feel as if I confessed everything.”

  She snorted. “I’m so sure that you didn’t. But I’ll take what I can get...until I get more.” She dried her hands and poured another glass of wine. “Let’s get comfy.”

  They settled in the family room. She deliberately waited to see which seating option he’d take. Single armchair. The love seat. The sofa.

  The sofa it was, and he sat near the middle. At least they were on the same page. She dropped into the seat beside him and curled her legs beside her.

  “Do I get to ask you a ton of questions?”

  “Yep.” She turned to him and rested her arm on the back of the couch. “Fire away.”

  “Why are you turning me inside out?”

  “Because I want to sleep with you.”

  He coughed.

  She clapped his back. “Water?”

  “No. I’m good. Just...um...well, now.”

  “I’m not saying that we’ll sleep together. I don’t know if that was a thought in your head.” She couldn’t help but admire his handsome features. “I have a strong interest in the pursuit of such a possibil
ity.”

  “Since you’re on a roll, I don’t want you to stop. The difference between possibility and reality is a fine line. Hopefully, when you sift through the information and make your plus and minus columns, the interest will increase.”

  * * *

  He had no idea that not only had the interest increased, but had an intensity that stirred her anticipation. As fine as the outer package was, the inner spirit mattered more. They could BS their way by putting on a good show for each other, but she wanted to cut through the crap and not waste time.

  “Is this your MO?” he asked.

  “Explain.” She had to touch him, any part of him. Sitting this close and only being able to admire without sampling or indulging in hearty helpings frustrated her patience.

  “Is this how you go after your...targets?”

  “That sounds predatory.” She looked at his hands, wide and strong. Those fingers pressed against her flesh, finger-walking to sensual destinations along her body. Warm rush of desire unfurled. She squirmed in place. “I don’t go after anyone. Men have approached me. We go out on a few dates. But I’m not interested in being a side thought. Not that I’m looking for a commitment ring, either. But booty calls are played out. With the business about to turn a corner in September, I don’t have time for foolish behavior. I’m using the direct-approach method.”

  He didn’t respond, at first. “I’m not the type to go in for booty calls, either.”

  “Not anymore,” she clarified. “You did rack up quite a list there. Could have held your own beauty pageant.”

  “All exaggerations. The rumors gave me superhuman powers. At the end of the day, I was a professional soccer player, between training and matches, with not much time for anything else.” He turned and leaned with a playful grin. “Have I earned my security clearance?”

  She nodded slowly. “You haven’t asked me a ton of questions.”

  “Figured I’d do that when we get cozy.” His teasing remark was almost as good his touch. Almost.

  “How cozy?” She bit her lip, thinking about nipping his.

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Cozier than this.” His breath brushed her mouth and she reached for the firm gentleness of his lips.