Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “Yeah, his place, but he’s not cooking this time. He said we’re just going to order out for pizza—if we get that far.”

  • • •

  Courtney dressed comfortably in J. Crew leggings and a cowl-necked burgundy cashmere sweater. She’d already pictured herself curled up on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, and this outfit was perfect. What she hadn’t anticipated was the candlelight. It wasn’t over-the-top like a romantic scene in the movies, where it looked like Yankee Candle had set up shop in someone’s bedroom, but Eric had chosen one light, woodsy scent and placed a few strategic votives around the room, so the effect was subtle—and sexy. He wore distressed cords and a caramel-colored crewneck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he was barefoot, which Courtney also found somehow hot.

  “You look gorgeous,” he said. “Of course, you always look, and smell, incredible.” He bent to her neck and inhaled.

  She had to remind herself to breathe. “It’s J’adore. Helen said I smelled like old books when I first moved in, so she made me upgrade.” She looked up into his gold-flecked eyes. “And that color is great on you. It brings out the amber in your eyes.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “The sweater was a gift from my mom.” He froze. “Oh, I—”

  Courtney touched his cheek. “I’m all right. If I cried every time someone mentioned their mother, I’d be in worse shape than I am.” She smiled. “Where’s Pinky?”

  “I farmed her out to Travis for a week. Thought a bit of responsibility would be good for him, and some unconditional love from a Chihuahua never hurts, either. Travis is in a decent foster situation, but I know he still feels displaced.”

  “That was sweet of you.”

  Eric ducked his head a bit. “Wine?” He asked as he took her coat and hung it in his hall closet.

  “I’d rather have bourbon.” Courtney needed a jolt to steady her nerves, something that would go to her head quickly.

  “I wouldn’t have figured you for a bourbon woman.” Eric squinted at Courtney like he was trying to see into her head. “Maker’s Mark all right?”

  “Perfect, and make it a double, please.” Courtney headed to the couch. She set her purse on the coffee table, making sure the riding crop wasn’t poking out the top, trying to escape. She tried to assume a relaxed posture by draping her arm over the back. Okay, that was a tad masculine. She plopped her hands in her lap and fiddled with her opal ring. She practiced deep breathing while Eric went to the kitchen for their libations. He returned a few minutes later with two crystal glasses. The amber bourbon shone like a beacon in the candlelight. They clinked glasses, and Courtney stifled a cough on the first sip.

  “That’s … good. Kind of hits the back of your throat, though.” Her voice was scratchy.

  “Take it easy. It can creep up on you.” Eric sat on the opposite side of the sofa, angling himself toward Courtney.

  Courtney took another sip, and then closed her eyes while she pondered her approach. “The weather’s been, oh, I don’t know, would you say cold?”

  Eric’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe he had been expecting more than chitchat. “Uh, yes, I believe most meteorologists would use that scientific term—cold.” He smiled.

  “Yep, cold.” Courtney pointed a finger in the air. “And windy, quite windy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Help me out here, Senator.”

  “Okay, let’s see, it’s also been icy.”

  Well, this was silly. He was obviously following her lead, and it wasn’t getting her anywhere. She reached for her purse, and without fanfare, extracted the riding crop.

  If she thought his eyebrows shop up before, now they escaped into his hairline. He rubbed his forehead briefly, and when he looked back at Courtney, his poker face gave nothing away. Was he excited about the object she offered? If so, he was certainly playing it close to the chest. He cleared his throat. “Looks like an early twentieth century design, probably out of the Man o’ War era. He won the Belmont Stakes in 1919.”

  TMI. “I don’t know anything about that. The fellow at the tack shop extolled the virtues of this crop’s flexibility. He said the leather was triple cured, so that it did its job in urging the horse forward but didn’t impart a lasting sting.” Courtney could feel Eric’s eyes on her, but she was too nervous to meet his gaze. She rifled around the bottom of her purse, as though the crop had lost a screw.

  “Let me see it.” Eric reached for the crop.

  Courtney handed it to him, strap first.

  Eric reached back to her hand for the crop’s handle. “First thing you should know, try to minimize contact with the actual crop. Body oils will deteriorate the leather, so always hand the crop to someone like you would offer a knife, handle first.”

  Courtney squeaked out an, “Okay, then what?”

  “Then you’re going to want to cover your palm with a piece of fabric. I’ll use this linen cocktail napkin.” He tucked the ends of the napkin between his fingers to keep it securely in place. “The fabric not only keeps body oils off the crop, but it adds a layer of protection.”

  “Like horsehair?” Courtney asked.

  “Not as protective as horsehair, but at least not leather on bare skin.” He looked at her from under his eyelashes as he smacked the crop on his palm.

  Surely, he saw her shiver. “I hadn’t thought about the logistics. I assumed a thong would be the clothing of choice.”

  • • •

  “A thong?” All right, Miss Sexpot, two can play this game. “What else have you ‘assumed’?”

  “Well,” Courtney inched closer to him on the couch, “I figured there might be some conversation about how the thong wearer—shall I call her the thongee?—had been a bad girl.” Courtney winked at him. He couldn’t recall her ever winking before.

  “Go on.” Eric draped an arm over the back of the sofa, just inches from Courtney’s shoulder.

  “You see, the thongee knew she’d been pressing the limits of someone’s patience.”

  Eric slapped the crop in his palm, again. “You know, this could really hurt.”

  Courtney licked her lips. She took several sips of bourbon, and then said, “I can only imagine how much it would sting … and titillate.”

  “Tell me more.” Eric inched closer and began massaging Courtney’s shoulder. She moaned, and he moved his hand to the back of her neck, kneading her scalp with his fingers.

  “I figured they’d both be so turned on that after a few stings from the crop, he’d ease the thong out of the way and enter her from behind.”

  Eric tipped up his glass, finishing his drink. His breathing was ragged. He wanted to take one of Courtney’s feet and pull it toward him so she’d be flat on the couch. Fortuitous for her that she wore pants because if she were in a skirt, he’d have her without further preamble. He didn’t want to hit her with a riding crop, but he sure as hell wanted to make love to her. And damn if she wasn’t ready. Eric ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to devour her, and when he pulled her into his arms, he saw desire in her eyes, as well as fear.

  “Sure you’re ready for this?” Eric asked.

  “Uh, I thought I was.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Could we maybe order that pizza now?”

  Eric chuckled. He moved away from her, rolled his shoulders and relaxed back into the sofa. “I was wondering when propriety would win out.” He picked up his cell phone from the coffee table. “What do you like on your pizza?”

  “You must think I’m a wuss.”

  Eric turned his body to her and took her hand. “Courtney, you’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met, but I don’t know what you want from me, and I suspect you don’t know, either.”

  “I’ve never had a relationship. I was the poster girl for geek until Helen got hold of me. ”

  “Geeks need love, too.”

  “Yeah, but this geek is hell-bent on sabotaging it.” She inched away from him and watched his expression change as he dropped her hand.
His smooth brow morphed to exclamation wrinkles between his eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned down. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d just shut him out. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach.

  “You don’t strike me as a woman who gives up easily.”

  “Not unless I hit a brick wall.”

  “Is that how you feel, like you’ve run into an immovable object?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I think I should just go home.”

  Eric rose from the couch. “I’ll take you home, but I want you to think about something.” He pulled her to standing and took her chin in his hand. “Let go.”

  Chapter Nine

  “After you told Eric you wanted to go home, you didn’t say anything during the drive?” Helen’s mouth gaped as she sat on Courtney’s queen-size bed.

  “Not a word.” Courtney’s voice cracked. “I’m an idiot. Everything was humming along beautifully. We were about to get the ball rolling, and then I just froze.”

  “Look at this logically, Court.” Helen crossed her legs and held up one finger. “One, you’re attracted to this guy.” She stabbed her second finger in the air. “Two, this guy’s attracted to you.” She added her third finger and made the Girl Scout salute. “Three … ” She turned her hand palm up. “I don’t see a three. Aside from you running so hot-and-cold, he probably thinks you have multiple personalities.”

  “Oh, God, I know. At any moment, demure Courtney morphs into weepy Courtney.”

  “And don’t forget sexy Courtney.”

  “Yeah, but who’s the real me?”

  “They’re all you, and they’re all good.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll match you finger for finger.” Courtney stabbed one finger in the air. “One, I never used to get emotional on the job. From the first day I met Eric, I cared more about his vote than I should have. So what if he doesn’t vote for higher taxes on tobacco? I can’t convince everybody. Why is his vote so important? But no, I went and made his vote a crusade.”

  Courtney jumped off the bed and started pacing the room. “Two”—another finger went up—“this whole physical attraction thing is new to me. I ache when I’m not with him. It’s like the worst kind of homesick.” Courtney stuck finger number three in the air. “I had sex in a nice little personal compartment until I met Eric, and now I’m all befuddled. I think he’s insanely hot, but whenever we get close, I chicken out. Why am I sabotaging myself?”

  “Court, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself worrying about trying to be some kind of sex goddess. Just be yourself!”

  “I don’t know.” Courtney chewed on her lip. I’ve never met anyone so, so, special … his sweetness, his dedication, his commitment to Travis. And when he kisses me, I want to die in his arms.”

  “Okay, that’s important. Ponder that. And while you’re in a contemplative mood, chew on this for a while—what scares you more … failure or success?” Helen waggled her eyebrows. “In the meantime, I’ve got a deposition to take in the morning. I need some shut eye.” She bounced off the bed. “But before we leave this discussion, are you really afraid that what Eric wants is kinky sex? Or is it possible that what you’re really afraid of here is intimacy? Because when you look at the big picture, kinky sex is just a speck on the horizon, but intimacy is the whole shebang.”

  Courtney squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a huge breath. “I’m afraid I’ll lose my edge, that all I’ve worked for will turn to mush because I’m blinded by a man.”

  “Sweetie, you gotta live a little! Stop trying to anticipate all the things that could happen and get out there and see what does happen, huh?” Helen nudged her thigh.

  She let out a heavy sigh. “I know you’re right. I guess. Okay, I’ll try.”

  “Hey, you know what they say: Do or do not. There is no try.”

  She opened one eye and squinted at Helen. “Eleanor Roosevelt again?”

  Her roommate shook her head. “Yoda.” She ducked just in time to miss the throw pillow Courtney launched at her grinning face.

  • • •

  Eric drummed his pencil on his desk blotter. What did she want from him? Hell, what did he want from her? Friendship was out of the question. If they didn’t end up lovers, they couldn’t be friends. The tobacco issue had seen to that. And if she held out any hope of convincing him, she’d be sorely disappointed. No, they couldn’t be friends, and after the upcoming vote on Valentine’s Day, they might not make it as lovers either.

  When he’d kissed her, the world stood still. All that mattered was Courtney in his arms. And it wasn’t enough. He wanted to be inside her, to be the first man in her life, but he was at odds with her innocence versus her awkward attempts at dirty talk. Did that stuff really turn her on or did she think that’s what he wanted to hear?

  He’d tried to keep the evening light. He was afraid of becoming aroused and then going too fast if she wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d stopped him because she was worried they’d get too rough—like he’d ever done that. But perhaps she thought he had. She probably assumed he took the riding crop out of the frame in his office so he could ride an occasional lobbyist or two. But his collection of what she thought was fantasy equipment was just that … a collection, not all that different from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles he collected growing up.

  Would he want to spank Courtney? The thought of her naked across his knee maybe held a certain appeal, but seriously, he’d rather just be with her, holding hands in the park, eating popcorn at the movies, taking Travis to a ballgame. He shook his head, hoping to clear his confusion. This continuous loop was getting him nowhere.

  If he were smart, he’d give Courtney some space. That way she could figure out what she wanted. And he could, too.

  • • •

  Courtney didn’t hear from Eric for a week. Though she was busier than she’d ever been, he constantly invaded her thoughts. It was that kiss. Why did she torture herself, reliving his lips on hers, the sensuous way he’d eased his arm around her and pulled her close, the taste of him mingled with his scent of spice and woods after their day at Manassas. She shook her head, trying to clear the image of how sexy and dark his eyes were when their kiss ended, staring at each other, their breathing shallow with yearning.

  Trying to forget about him, she threw herself into securing the last few votes she needed for the tobacco tax. It was going to be dangerously close. Commitments from senators in Arkansas and Oklahoma were solid, but Florida and South Carolina could go either way, and without Eric’s vote, the bill was in serious jeopardy. But she wouldn’t try to convince him again. He’d dug in his heels, and in her objective moments, which were few where he was concerned, she could even understand his point.

  That afternoon, she heard Bill clipping down the hall in his Gucci loafers and waved him into her office when he rounded the corner. “What’s your count?” he asked.

  “I’m close. I’ll visit with Arkansas and Oklahoma again today. Senator Flutie from Arkansas is hot on the pig farmers’ bill, and he’s been trying to trade votes with Virginia and North Carolina. He told Senator Morrison he’d support price election on tobacco if Morrison backed him on the pigs.”

  “Besides price election, what are Morrison’s hot buttons?” Bill loosened his tie and took the chair opposite Courtney’s desk.

  “He likes the non-profit bill with the stipends for Special Olympics. That’s a tough one because there are some organizations bundled with that bill that support lesbians and gays, and some of the more conservative senators won’t support it. It’s a shame because several of those non-profits are focused on bullying in schools.” Courtney chewed on a fingernail, and then slapped her hand away. She almost had nails now, but the stress of this week had her reverting to old habits. “He could probably get a few price election votes from conservative senators if he voted against the non-profit bill, but I don’t think he’d do that.” Courtney couldn’t help but smile—and sigh. “He’s too prin
cipled.”

  “You like this guy?” Bill’s eyebrows shot up.

  Courtney sucked in her lips, wiping away her smile. “I was skeptical that all his do-goodness was for show, but he’s for real. Yeah, I like him.”

  Bill nodded, shrewd eyes sizing her up. “Just be careful. Hook-ups like that can derail a career. If the media saw you two cozied up somewhere and Morrison ended up voting for the tobacco tax, his constituents would crucify him. He’d never get re-elected.”

  Her scalp prickled with the heat of embarrassment. She’d been so busy sabotaging any hope of intimacy with Eric, she hadn’t considered either of their careers—another indication that her brain wasn’t working on all cylinders. So, to get back to Bill’s warning, a hook-up was probably a moot point. “Don’t worry about that—on two counts. I doubt he’ll change his vote on the tobacco tax, and I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

  Bill pushed himself out of the chair, tightened his tie. “That’s for the best. Want a recipe for disaster? Pair a lobbyist with a legislator.” His cell phone chirped, and he answered it as he walked out of Courtney’s office.

  She stared at the door after he left. A dull ache settled in her heart. He was right.

  • • •

  In an effort to cheer Courtney up, Helen insisted they go to a Wizards basketball game on Sunday. The cheering fans might boost her spirits. Besides, she liked the draft beer and popcorn. She’d treat herself to a big pretzel, too.

  The weather had returned to frozen tundra, which somehow made Courtney recall the unseasonal day she’d shared with Eric and Travis at Manassas. Scratch that. Someday, she might be able to look back and remember that outing with a smile, but now, the stab of pain brought tears to her eyes.

  Courtney and Helen took the metro to Verizon Center. They were both bundled in more layers than they could count, and when they got to their seats in the nosebleed section, they were glad to find a few empty seats for piling their coats, vests, and scarves.