Not Another Bad Date

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Not Another Bad Date Page 12

by Rachel Gibson


  Adele pulled away, and Zach’s hand fell to his side. Within her chest, she felt her heart pounding, and she could hardly breathe. She looked into Zach’s sexy, sleepy eyes and she remembered his sneaky ways from fourteen years ago. How his light, teasing touch had ruthlessly made her want him even more. “You’re slick.”

  He actually smiled as he reached for her. “Thank you.”

  She took a step backward, out of his reach. “Again—not a compliment, Zach!” Every cell in her body was on fire. All he had to do was touch her, and every nerve ending twisted into a ball of yearning.

  His hand fell to his side. “Honey, come here.”

  She shook her head and took another step backward. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Baby, you don’t trust yourself.”

  That was true. She didn’t trust herself not to give in to his sneaky, slick ways, and that just made her mad. “What’s the matter, Zach? Can’t you find a willing woman to harass?”

  Instead of getting angry like she’d intended, he laughed. “Finding willing women has never been a problem for me.”

  “God, you can’t help yourself. You’re a pathological bragger.” She held her hand up and took another step back. “Not a compliment.”

  “Arrogant. Slick. Pathological bragger. Anything else wrong with me?”

  “You don’t have all night.”

  “I’ve got ten minutes.”

  “Not enough time.” She took another step back and stopped by the sign to the girls’ bathroom.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” He hooked his thumbs inside the front pockets of his jeans and drew her attention to the huge bulge beneath his button fly. “The right man could have you in the zone and screaming Hail Marys in ten minutes.”

  He turned her insults into foreplay. Worse, it was working. She licked her lips and her brain went kind of fuzzy. “I’m not Catholic.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and moved toward her. “Everyone has a come to Jesus moment on fourth and goal.”

  “That’s something only a dumb jock would say.” Then, like the mature woman she was, she spun to her left and practically dove into the bathroom. She moved to the sink and placed a cool hand on the porcelain and one on her hot cheek. That was real adult. Call him a dumb jock and run away.

  The door swung open and banged against the wall. “Stop running, Adele.”

  She spun around and gasped. “You can’t come in here.” He closed the door and leaned back against it. She pointed to the tampon dispenser and stated the obvious, “This is the girls’ bathroom.”

  He glanced about at the six stalls and two sinks before his gaze returned to her. “So it is.”

  “You’ll get caught in here.”

  He pushed away from the door. “It won’t be the first time.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I wasn’t until you came back into my life.” He moved across the floor toward her and took off his hat. “I see you, and I remember kissing you and touching you and making love to you. I want you more than I think I’ve ever wanted any woman.” He tossed the hat on the counter between the sinks. “I can’t help but wonder why you’re back in my life.”

  “I’m here because my sister needs me.” She placed her hands on his chest and, for every step he took, she took a step back.

  “I need you.”

  “No. You want me.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No. Oxygen is something you need.” Her back hit the wall next to the last bathroom stall.

  “Just be still,” he said, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “And stop running from me.”

  “Stop coming after me.”

  He shook his head as his brown gaze stared into hers. “I’m beginning to think I need you like I need oxygen.”

  She knew the feeling. From beneath his cotton shirt, his hard, defined muscles warmed her palms, and instead of dropping them to her sides like a smart girl, she slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. What the hell. The curse will kick in. She lifted her face as he lowered his mouth to hers. His hands on her shoulders tightened, and for several long heartbeats, he remained perfectly still. Then he groaned deep in his throat and slid one hand to her waist. He brought her against his chest and kissed her. Like always, soft and sweet, creating a yummy suction as he drew her tongue into his mouth.

  Adele dropped her purse to the floor, then plowed her fingers through the sides of his fine hair. Heat radiated from his chest and warmed her breasts. Her stomach felt light, her breathing heavy, as her nipples puckered into excruciatingly hard points. While his mouth made love to hers, she tried to remain still. She tried to keep her hands on the sides of his head and not roaming the hard contours of his chest and back, but then he slid his fingers beneath the bottom edge of her sweater and pressed his thumbs into her stomach, and she let her fingers do some walking all over him.

  She pressed her legs together against the hot need pooling between her thighs. She reminded herself that they were standing in the girls’ bathroom at Cedar Creek High, and she could not pull his shirt from his Levi’s and feel his bare skin. She definitely couldn’t run her mouth all over him and eat him up like a hot fudge sundae, but until the curse kicked in and put an end to this madness, she was going to feel sexual desire pour all over her.

  His thumbs fanned her skin and the tingling sensation spread up her chest. She turned her head to one side and turned up the heat. She gave him long, feeding kisses, and he pressed his erection into her pelvis.

  “Mmm,” she moaned into his starving mouth, and wanted more before it all had to stop. He shoved a knee between hers as one hand moved from beneath her sweater to the top of her zipper. While his tongue plunged into her mouth, his fingers pulled the zipper down until it came free at the bottom. Then his hands were on her breasts, cupping her through her white satin bra.

  He slid his mouth to the side of her throat, and her head fell to one side. “You don’t know how much I want you,” he groaned, as his hands slid to the back of her bra.

  “Hooks in the front,” she whispered. Actually, she did know how much. He felt enormous and so hard that the pressure against her pelvis was almost painful. She lifted her knee up his thigh and wrapped her leg around his waist. He unhooked her bra and she rocked against him, feeling the hard pressure through her jeans and his.

  His harsh breathing lifted his chest, and he pushed her sweater and the straps of her bra from her shoulders and down her arms. He pulled back to look at her, down at his big hands filled with the weight of her breasts.

  “You’re the same as you were in college,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

  “I’m older.” She gasped as his thumbs lightly stroked her puckered nipples, and she recalled the book about quarterbacks in his office and the quote about his “skilled hands.”

  “Better.” He turned one hand and slowly brushed the backs of his knuckles across the aching tip of her breast. “Perfect.”

  Adele looked up into his face, at his parted lips and brown eyes drugged with desire. Somehow she’d lost control of him and her and the situation. She’d waited for the curse to kick in. It hadn’t, and she’d lost the will and good sense to stop. She tore at the sweater and the straps of her bra, holding her wrists at her side, until they fell to the tiled floor. Then she slid her palms over his hard chest and shoulder and leaned forward to kiss him. He tasted good in her mouth, like hot, turned-on man. It had been three years since she’d felt anything so wonderful as Zach’s hands, his hot mouth, and his hard penis shoved against her.

  Like the flash point of an escalating fire, the kiss ignited and turned all carnal and feeding, with hungry mouths and tongues. He rocked against her, rubbing the wet, aching places and stroking the fire. Her skin tingled, her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples painfully tight. It had been so long since she’d felt such delicious pleasure.

  “Stop,” he groaned, as his hands moved to her behind and he shov
ed into her, pinning her hips to the wall. The wall felt cool against her back, and beneath her hands, his muscles turned hard as stone, and he froze. His lungs expanded as he inhaled a deep breath, and he whispered into her hair, “Tell me no.”

  “No?”

  “Sound more convincing.” His warm palm slid up from her waist, and left a hot trail up her bare stomach. “Slap my face.” His thumb brushed the underside of her breast. “Tell me we can’t do this here.”

  She might have laughed or cried or kissed his neck if the sound of voices hadn’t penetrated her sexual haze and instantly doused the hot lust burning deep in her stomach. She reached for her sweater and purse, and Zach pulled her into a stall as the door to the bathroom swung open.

  “He’s in my math class,” a teenage voice spoke. “He’s kind of cute.”

  “He’s hot.”

  “He asked me out. Do you think I should go?”

  Zach held her purse as she shoved her arms inside her sweater.

  “I don’t know. His girlfriend’s Sara Lynn Miller.”

  “She’s ugly.”

  “Yeah, you’re cuter.”

  The sound of running water drowned out the girl’s voices as Adele put the ends of her sweater together and zipped it up.

  “Someone left their hat in here,” one of the girls said as the water turned off.

  Adele glanced up into Zach’s face. He stared straight ahead as if could see through the door. His expression stony.

  “It’s a Cougars football hat. Only the players wear these.” There was a pause and then, “Who’s number twelve?”

  Zach handed her her purse and closed his eyes as if someone should just go ahead and shoot him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did it get in here?”

  Good question. Adele opened the stall door and closed it behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her white bra where it had fallen on the white tile floor. She hung the purse on her shoulder and moved to the sink toward two girls dressed in cheerleader outfits. She hoped they didn’t have to use the bathroom and notice her bra.

  “Thanks,” she said, and plucked the black-and-green hat from one of the girl’s hands.

  “That’s yours?” the girl asked.

  “Yep.” Adele shoved it on her head and turned on the water. As she washed her hands, she looked through the mirror at one of the girls, who wore way too much eyeliner.

  “Only the football players have those hats.”

  And the coaches. “This isn’t one of the player’s hats.” She turned off the water and tore off a paper towel.

  “It sure looks like it.”

  “It’s similar.”

  The girl with the eyeliner chewed her gum thoughtfully. “Where’d you get it?”

  From the guy hiding in the last stall. She shrugged. “Internet.”

  “Oh.”

  They stared like they wanted to argue more, but in the end they gave her Kendra’s favorite “you’re so gay” look and walked out of the bathroom.

  “Coast is clear,” she said as she tossed the paper towel into the garbage. The soles of her sneakers squeaked on the tiles.

  “Zach?”

  He didn’t answer, and she pushed the stall door. He sat on the back of the tank with his booted feet on the seat. His forearms rested on his thighs, and his hands dangled in front of his knees. “That was fucking close.” He looked up at her through his turbulent brown eyes. “You still think nothing is going to happen between us? Ever?”

  No, she wasn’t sure. Not at all. “We stopped.” Which she could admit to herself was a pathetic answer.

  He pointed to his right. “I was seconds away from getting you out of your pants and nailing you against that wall.”

  She shook her head. “I doubt things would have gone that far.”

  “Who was gonna stop me?” He dropped his hand. “You?”

  She liked to think so, but she wouldn’t swear on it. “Clearly there are unresolved issues between us,” she said, striving to sound rational and make sense out of something that made absolutely no sense at all.

  He raised one brow. “Unresolved issues?” He stood, and she took a step backward. “I’d call what’s between us good old-fashioned lust.” He hung a wrist over the top of the stall. “’Course, I’m just a dumb jock.”

  “Zach, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I called you a dumb jock.”

  “I’m sorry I called you a cock tease.”

  A frown wrinkled her brow. “You didn’t call me a cock tease.”

  He smiled. “No?”

  “I’m not a tease!”

  He leveled his brown gaze on her. “Then run along out of here before I make you prove it.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. She moved toward the door and walked out into the empty hall without looking back.

  Adele opened the door to the condo, then stuck her key back in her purse. She couldn’t believe she’d left her bra in the girls’ bathroom. She’d forgotten all about it until she’d been halfway home and glanced down at herself in the thin white sweater. For about half a second she’d thought about returning for it, but the idea of running into anyone with her nipples clearly visible had made her reconsider. She figured the bra would be discovered by the janitor and thrown away. Which was a shame since she’d liked that bra.

  She smiled at the thought of the janitor finding it and trying to figure out how it got there.

  She tossed her purse on the table in the small entry and moved to the kitchen. She’d lost her bra while kissing Zach in the girls’ bathroom. How had it even happened? One second she’d been in control, and in the next she’d lost it. One second she’d told him that she didn’t want to be with him, and in the next she’d told him her bra hooked in the front.

  She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Pepsi. She’d waited for the curse to kick in and turn him into a freak who repulsed her. But for the first time in three years, the curse hadn’t zapped anyone.

  The one time she’d actually counted on the curse, it had let her down. With Zach. The last guy on the planet she should be kissing and touching. Especially in the girls’ bathroom at Cedar Creek High. She should feel appalled and embarrassed, and she did feel those things. But probably not nearly as much as she should.

  Not nearly as much as she felt the urge to smile.

  For three long years, she’d believed she lived under a curse. Tonight, the curse hadn’t shown up and turned Zach into a jerk. Maybe that meant it was broken. Perhaps there was a finite number of bad dates, and the curse had run its course. Or there never really was a curse at all. Either way, for the first time in a long time, she dared to feel free. Dared to hope that maybe the nightmare she’d been living was over.

  Adele moved into the baby’s room and pulled Zach’s hat from her head, setting it on the desk next to her laptop. She dared to hope that Joe wouldn’t turn into a jerk Saturday night when she went out with him.

  She liked Joe okay, the little that she knew of him. He was kinda cute in a cowboy-redneck sort of way. The kind of cute you’d see in a John Deere ad. Along with his Southern accent, he seemed to have nice Southern manners, too.

  That next Saturday night, over beef fajitas and a pitcher of margaritas at El Rancho Restaurant and Cantina, Adele discovered that Joe Brunner did have nice manners. He held the door for her and helped her on and off with her jacket. Mostly though, she learned that Joe loved three things. High-school ball. College ball. And pro ball.

  “That game made history,” he said, referring to a game he’d played at Virginia Tech. He’d picked her up at eight, dressed like a lot of other guys from west Texas, in a beige Western shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, new Wranglers, and a pair of Justin’s. A straw cowboy hat covered his brown hair. “You live in Boise right? They have a good program up there in the WAC.”

  Despite his obsession with football, she also learned that he really was a nice guy, and she felt like a horrible woman because she kept compa
ring him to Zach. He wasn’t as tall or handsome, and when she looked at him, she didn’t go all weak like she seemed to do when Zach was around. Which should have been a point in Joe’s favor.

  Several times during the course of dinner, Adele attempted to change the subject from football. Not only because she wasn’t a fan, but because the subject brought her thoughts back around to a certain retired quarterback. And when she thought of Zach, she thought of her shameful behavior in the girls’ bathroom. And when she thought of her shameful behavior, her stomach got tight, and her skin got all hot.

  “Tell me what you do when you’re not coaching,” she’d asked Joe as she rolled up her first fajita.

  “I own the Whistle Stop Mart.” His light green eyes looked into hers across the table, and he smiled. “It’s not very exciting, but I make good money selling gas and potato chips.”

  When he smiled like that, she could almost forgive him for being such a ball fanatic. “Do you like it?”

  “I do. It has its challenges. Not like coaching though. I love coaching.”

  Clearly. “Who won the game last night?” she asked, giving in for the moment.

  He paused in the act of eating and looked at her as if she had a single digit IQ. “Cougars. Didn’t you go?”

  “I had to work.”

  The topic changed to her writing for a few minutes, then Joe mentioned that he read books about sports, mostly football. Of course.

  By the time Joe handed the waiter his credit card, Adele had caught a tequila buzz. Which helped dull the pain of so much football. “Didn’t you have a girlfriend you dated for quite a while in high school?” she asked, still making an effort.

  “Yep. Randa Lynn Hardesty. She was a cheerleader.”

  Figured. All ballplayers dated cheerleaders, didn’t they?

  The waiter returned with the check, and Joe calculated the tip and signed the receipt. “And my first wife.”

  “First wife?” Adele reached for her coat and slid from the booth. “How many have there been?”

 

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