Dates And Other Nuts

by Lori Copeland

  “Somehow, I can’t picture you as the type to wear pajamas,” she said suddenly, imagining him stretched out in the nude.

  “I don’t.” The soft baritone of his voice reached deep inside her.

  Temple tried not to read anything into the sexy innuendo.

  “You take the top,” he said. “I’ll take the bottoms.”

  Not trusting her voice, she shrugged. He fished the pajamas out of his flight bag and tossed it to her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed.”

  If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he’d smiled, but he turned away before she could be sure.

  “I think I’ll watch a little of the basketball playoffs,” he told her a moment later.

  Temple went into the bathroom and closed the door. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe.

  He sleeps in the buff. She knew what his well-toned body looked like. They’d swum together in enough hotel pools over the years. His daily workouts at the gym kept him in top condition and the trunks he wore left little to the imagination. She’d noticed the appreciative, lingering glances tossed his way from other women. But this was different. Very different.

  Dear sweet heaven, help me make it through the night.

  Shoving away from the door, she turned on the water and then studied her reflection in the mirror. Why was she suddenly dissecting Craig’s every sentence, every look? Why was she imagining him in the nude? What had changed? Over the years, they’d shared many intimate details of their lives: attractions, relationships, broken hearts. She’d nursed him through the flu, and he’d babied her through the chicken pox two years ago. But she’d also been careful to keep a certain distance between them. It was her choice. Why then did it bother her so much that there were things he hadn’t told her?

  Because of Nancy? What else could it be?

  Well, whether she liked it or not, something seemed to be changing in her. Suddenly, she wanted more than just friendship with Craig. But that scared her. What would happen if they were to take that next dangerous step, and things didn’t work out? What would she do without him?

  Hold on there, Burney. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Be calm. Every time you react without thinking things through, you get in trouble. Just stop and think.

  “Hey.” Craig rapped on the bathroom door. “You going to stay in there all night?”

  “Sorry. I’ll hurry.”

  She took the pins out of her hair, then brushed it and pinned it up again. Stripping quickly, she slipped into the tub and sank into the steaming water until it reached her chin. After a moment, she sat up and creamed her face with lotion. Fortunately, the hotel had provided them with a small courtesy kit containing toothbrush, shaving cream and razor. Like all flight attendants, she carried her own personal essentials in a large purse for this sort of occasion. Drawing a deep breath, she sank deeper into the hot water.

  “Craig?”

  “Yeah?” His voice came from the other side of the door.

  “Have you thought about getting married since? I mean...really.”

  “Yeah. I’ve thought about it.”

  “Well, why haven’t you...done it.”

  For a moment, she knew he wasn’t going to answer. She was pushing him on the subject, and you didn’t push him. On anything.

  “Right time, wrong woman. Right woman, wrong time.”

  The idea of Craig married, the father of two-point-two children was more than she cared to think about. And yet...

  “Who was the right woman?”

  He didn’t respond right away and she wished she hadn’t asked the question.

  “Are you going to stay in there all night?”

  Temple released a long breath of relief. She really didn’t want to know who he might have loved enough to marry.

  “Ten more minutes, max.”

  When she finally emerged, wearing Craig’s pajama top, he was stretched out on the bed, fingers laced behind his head, watching TV. He looked comfortable, and very domesticated. Relaxed. It was obvious he wasn’t disturbed about their spending the night together.

  Craig glanced up as she came out. His gaze lightly traveled her shapely length. “Hello? Who is this goddess? Please introduce yourself.”

  “Ms. Burney, to you.”

  Keep it light, Temple. Light and friendly.

  “You weren’t kidding, were you?” she said.

  “About what?”

  “About not wearing pajamas. This top still had the price tag on it.” She sat on the edge of the bed and began brushing her hair.

  “I never kid. Your favorite movie is on.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one with Doris Day and David Niven.”

  She frowned at the screen. “Which one?”

  “The one where they have all these kids and he’s a New York critic. They keep the youngest one in a cage with a lock on it-”

  “Please Don’t Eat the Daisies. And they don’t keep the baby in a cage,” she said. “Their family’s expanded, and now the apartment is too small, so Doris Day keeps the child in a playpen, turned upside down.”

  He handed her the remote, and slid off the bed. “Tissues are over there for the sad parts. I’m taking a shower.”

  As the bathroom door closed, Temple curled up on the bed. Reaching for a pillow to cradle, she picked at the scratchy tag in the back of the pajama collar, but wasn’t able to tear it loose. Finally giving up, she held the pillow close, immersing herself in the movie.

  The sound of the running shower lulled her. In the background, she could hear David Niven talking to Doris Day. They were in a small, romantic Italian restaurant, hoping to recapture their flagging relationship. Why couldn’t she find a guy with David Niven’s sense of humor, his suave manner, his self-confidence. Someone like...Craig...

  Her eyes drifted closed. Niven’s voice became Craig’s, Day’s voice hers.

  “Anyone ever tell you how sexy you look in pajama tops?” Gentle hands touched her hair and she stirred.

  “Mmm, darling, give up the apartment and move to the country with me. The house is coming along beautifully—I have a part in the local play—we could use your guidance —I love you...our children need you—”

  Lips gently brushed her forehead. “You’re a squirrel. Go back to sleep.”

  “Mmm—you smell good enough to eat—”

  Something warm touched her forehead, and she snuggled closer to the delicious scent. “You’re welcome to be my guest anytime you like.”

  Footsteps moved away from the bed as a commercial came on. The volume immediately increased five decibels.

  Startled, her eyes shot open and she blinked, momentarily disoriented.

  “Did you say something?” Craig called from the bathroom.

  She sat up, trying to sort reality from dream. Craig was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, drying his hair with a towel, his raised arms redefining his muscular chest. The pajama bottoms hung low on his hips. Her eyes focused on the thick mat of dark hair covering his chest. A confusion of emotions flooded her as pieces of her dream stubbornly clung to her consciousness. She had been dreaming, hadn’t she?

  Leaning around the corner, Craig asked, “Something wrong?”

  “No. Well, uh, there’s a tag on the collar of these pajamas —”

  “Want me to get it out?”

  “If you can. I can’t reach it—”

  As he approached, she caught the scent of soap and Old Spice.

  “Nice legs, Burney.”

  Temple quickly drew the sheet up.

  “Modest?” He grinned, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.

  Craig Stevens was absolutely devastating. How could there ever be a wrong time or place—

  “Turn around.”

  “Wh—what?”

  “If you want me to get that tag out—”

  “Oh.”

  Feeling like an idiot, she turned around, hoping her face wasn’t as flushed
as it felt.

  His fingertips brushed her skin as he swept her hair aside then turned the collar to reach the tag. For a scant moment, her breathing grew shallow and she wished she hadn’t asked him to help.

  “Why are you so edgy tonight?”

  “Just get the tag, Stevens.”

  His hands were warm against the nape of her neck and for one crazy moment she wished he would... Go away.

  “There,” he said. “A ragged job, but it’s out.” His fingertip sensuously smoothed her skin. “It’s rubbed a raw spot.”

  His fingertips lingered longer than she thought healthy for her peace of mind, before he finally settled the collar back into place.

  “Want me to put some cream on that?”

  She made herself roll away from him.

  “It’ll be all right. Thanks.” She shoved the covers back on her bed and settled deeper into the sheets. They were stiff and scratchy. The pillows were flat as pancakes, and the bed as cold as Siberia.

  “Leave the light on in the bathroom, okay?” she said.

  “Sure.”

  As he returned to the bathroom, Temple closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

  You’re a fool! It can’t be anything more. Stop looking at him that way. He isn’t blind. He can tell you’re ogling him. It’s embarrassing.

  When Craig switched off the bedside lamp, she pretended to be asleep. The soft rustle of sheets when he got into bed grated on her raw nerves. After he’d finally settled himself, the quiet was so loud she could hear her own heartbeat.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  His voice was disturbingly male in the darkness and her nerves tightened another notch. She pretended not to hear him. She wouldn’t divulge her thoughts at this moment for a million dollars.

  “Come on, you’re not asleep. Remember? I know you never drop right off to sleep.”

  She resisted the desire to roll over. If she just ignored him...

  He said nothing for a minute or two.

  “Feels strange, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” she murmured, then realized he’d caught her.

  They lay in the darkness, listening to the silence. She’d never felt quite so alone.

  This, Grams, is what you keep telling me about. This kind of empty no-one-loves-me alone. No wonder you keep nagging at me to find someone.

  “Ever thought about us?”

  His question startled her. He was reading her mind! She nearly groaned aloud with embarrassment.

  “You and me?” she asked as if she’d never given it a thought.

  “You and met.” His voice sounded deeply masculine... all sexy and alluring. “Ever wonder why we haven’t-”

  She waited for him to complete the sentence.

  “Ever what?”

  “Ever been like this before?”

  She swallowed, wishing she could think of something clever or seductive to say. Doris Day always could. “Like what?”

  “In a bedroom together.”

  Closing her eyes, she said softly, “We’re just friends.”

  “You can’t like a person and make love to them at the same time?”

  Temple knew they were close to opening a Pandora’s box that would set free all kinds of repercussions. Repercussions she wasn’t sure she could handle without getting hurt, or hurting someone else.

  “What we have in the...living room...is special.”

  “Yes, it is.” He paused, then said softly, “But why wouldn’t what we might have...in the bedroom...be as special?”

  “Because ‘that’ could very well ruin ‘this’.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I’ve seen it happen to other friends too many times.”

  “I have the feeling it could be very nice between us.”

  His voice was warm, husky, inviting. Nice? It could be heaven. She was as certain of that as her own name. But did they dare? Did she dare? Unable to lie still, she sat up and plunged her fingers into the tangle of her hair.

  “Okay,” he continued when she didn’t say anything. “Think about this. Why can’t two consenting adults enjoy each other’s company?”

  “Go to sleep,” she said as she lay down again. She wanted more than superficial sex, especially with him.

  The bed creaked when he turned over. He lay on his side in the near darkness and she could feel him looking at her.

  Antsy, she turned over, then onto her back again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m cold.” Now that she wasn’t having lustful thoughts about Craig, she’d noticed the temperature.

  “Get another blanket.”

  “There isn’t one. I looked.”

  Goose bumps dimpled her skin and she forced herself to breathe. Every ounce of her wanted him. Dammit!

  His bare shoulders gleamed in the pale light and she could see the outline of his long body. She suddenly couldn’t think of anything except how good it had felt when he’d drawn her against him in the elevator and how she had this insane urge to be held by him again. Hypocritical? You got it. Out of her mind? Clearly.

  “Well, I guess that means you’ll have to move over here so I can keep you warm.”

  The silence lengthened. The four feet between the beds seemed as wide as the Grand Canyon, and just as deep. She could hear the cold rain outside hitting the window and it made her even colder.

  “Coming over?” he said. “I don’t bite—unless I’m asked to.” His voice and his words teased her.

  “I hardly think so, not after what we’ve just been discussing.”

  A grin colored his voice. “Friends can’t keep each other warm?”

  Oh, he’d keep her warm all right. Red-hot. She wouldn’t go over there if someone offered her the winning ticket in a lottery.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  She couldn’t trust herself. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Time dragged on. Rain pelted the window. Twice she thought she heard sleet. Pulling the thin sheet and blanket closer around her, her teeth chattered.

  A long time later, his voice came to her again in the darkness.

  “I heard a story once about a man lost in a snowstorm. He shot a cow, gutted it and crawled inside the carcass to keep warm.”

  “Can’t sleep, either?” she said.

  “No, I’m cold, too.”

  “The cow story is interesting. Pointless, but interesting.” She still wasn’t moving to his bed.

  Feet like ice cubes, she tried to force sleep. When sleet began pelting the window again, she surrendered.

  Crawling out of bed, she dragged the blanket and sheet with her as she slid into bed with him.

  “Scoot over,” she whispered, nudging him. He scooted over without opening his eyes.

  She stretched out carefully beside him, a full three inches between them, but his arms drifted around her and drew her close. Her back against his chest, his legs fitting against her, she pushed aside the idea that she was making a big mistake. Snuggling deeper against him, she savored his heavenly warmth. This was okay. Just for tonight it was okay.

  “You certainly took long enough,” he murmured, his breath warm against the side of her neck.

  “It isn’t capitulation,” she mumbled back, “only an admission that I’m freezing and where the hell is a cow when you need one.”

  Holding each other close, they eventually dropped off to sleep.

  Toward dawn, Craig opened his eyes, painfully aware of Temple’s body cuddled next to his. She was snuggled against him, her hand resting on his chest, her knee lapped over his thigh. Her breath was soft and warm against his shoulder, like the touch of a feather. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of wildflowers. Suddenly, he had a sense of rightness. Temple lying next to him, warm and tantalizing.

  Turning his head slightly, he let the sight of her silky auburn hair tangled across the pillow sink into him. He’d dreamed of this, fantasized about it. In his drea
m, however, there had been no pain shooting from wrist to shoulder. She was lying on his arm, cutting off circulation.

  Easing up on the pillow, he carefully tried to free his arm. Sighing, she moved closer, her arm looping around his neck, her fingertips caressing him briefly. “Mmm,” she murmured.

  Oh, Lord.

  “Sit up a little,” he whispered, wincing as needles stung the inside of his arm.

  “Mmm?” She shifted, following his warmth, turning half onto her back.

  “Sit up...”

  “Mmm...” She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue inviting.

  They were within a breath of each other.

  “Temple—”

  Her soft breath feathered against his face.

  It was too much.

  Moving ever so slightly, he touched his lips to hers, lingering, tasting. With a soft sound, her mouth opened beneath his, kissing him back, soft, warm, clinging.

  They’d never kissed before. Not like this. He’d never kissed anyone like this. Oh, he’d thought of it, but even in his dreams it hadn’t been this sweet.

  Easing her back against the pillow, he closed his eyes and coaxed her lips apart. Her mouth opened beneath his like an exotic flower. He took comfort that his circulation was working perfectly now. Working very well, in fact. The ache in his groin was a living, growing entity.

  She moved against him and a flash of heat rushed through him. The kiss deepened, her hand resting on the nape of his neck, and the heat became a searing ache. Her purr of pleasure fueled his passion. This...this was what had kept him awake all night. Thinking of this, wondering if reality could possibly live up to the dream. It did.

  Pressing her into the pillow, his fingers struggled with the buttons of the pajama top, but the tangle of sheets and blanket impeded his progress.

  Impatient, he ripped aside the blankets, his mouth devouring hers now. She clung to him, her hands moving over him, molding his shoulders, sliding over his chest. His pulse pounded in his veins when her nails lightly scored his skin.

  But suddenly, as quickly as she had come to him, she retreated.

  Sighing softly, she rolled over and snuggled more deeply into the bed. Stunned, his breath caught in his throat, his nerves screaming, she settled into the even breathing of deep sleep.