Long Slow Burn

by Isabel Sharpe

“Where are you going?”

  “Mimma’s Café.”

  “Nice.” He didn’t look impressed. He looked crabby. “Swanky place. You’re dressed fine.”

  Kim narrowed her eyes. “What’s bugging you?”

  He looked startled. “Nothing. Why?”

  “I don’t know, you just don’t have much…” She searched for the next word. “Enthusiasm.”

  That wasn’t the right one.

  “No?”

  “Not that you should be all whupped up over my love life.” She spotted a thread on her skirt and reached to remove it. “I’m jealous.”

  Kim straightened abruptly, then saw his smile and couldn’t believe she’d thought he was serious. Or that some silly, egotistical part of her had wanted him to be. Nice, Kim. “I’ll just bet.”

  “You look beautiful. He’s going to get the world’s biggest hard-on when he sees you in that outfit.”

  “Nathan.” She blushed, laughing.

  “I’m serious.” He took two steps toward her, hands on his hips. “I think I’m getting one.”

  “Stop that.” She fought the urge to move back when he took two more steps. This reflex flirting he did was really disconcerting. Maybe he was trying to bolster her confidence, but it only unnerved her. A lot.

  “What time are you meeting him?”

  She looked at her watch. “I have to leave in twenty minutes.”

  “Time for a beer to relax you? Or a shot of something stronger?”

  “It’s that obvious I’m tense?”

  Another slow step, then another. “If I touched you, I think you’d break.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice lowered. She was holding her ground, holding his gaze. That crazy warmth was spreading through her again. What was she doing? “Then you better not touch me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” The sound barely came out of her mouth. He was one step away. He could touch her if he extended his hand.

  She wanted him to.

  Kim!

  The outfit. The makeup. The anxiety of the date. She’d turned into someone she no longer recognized. It was thrilling, intoxicating. She had power.

  He extended his hand toward her; she stayed motionless, standing tall, breath catching in her chest. His finger landed on her mouth, a soft kiss of a touch. She had an absurd impulse to open her lips, take him in and taste. But that seductive power was not in her. That power was in people like Tony, in her brother and his friend Steve…and in Nathan. And how.

  She moved her head back from his finger; he dropped his arm, looking slightly stunned. As she had been, too. Whatever was growing between them couldn’t be allowed to mushroom any further. From now on she’d concentrate any and all of this strange new sexual energy on men she might actually want to have a relationship with.

  “See? I didn’t break.”

  “No, you didn’t.” His smile was slow and easy. “But you still look like you’re going to.”

  She shrugged. “All I need is to survive this date.”

  “I’ll give you good odds on that.”

  “Okay, then.” She brushed past him into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water to cover her rattled state.

  “Need some dating pointers?”

  “Pleez.”

  “One, don’t eat garlic unless he does.”

  “Give me a break.” She plopped in a couple of ice cubes and drank half the glass.

  “Two, don’t bring up radical political or religious views.”

  “Yes, Daddy dearest.”

  “And don’t put out on the first date, especially not in the back of his car.”

  She nearly spit water into the sink. “Bet you wouldn’t give that advice to your first date.”

  “Absolutely I would.” He grinned in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “Whets the appetite for date two.”

  “Oh, for—” She dumped the ice into the sink. “You are too much.”

  “And make sure he pays.”

  “Why should he? I have plenty of money. And last time I checked it’s the twenty-first century.”

  “No.” Nathan rubbed his chin. “Man pays on the first date.”

  “Yes, sir.” She glanced at the clock; adrenaline was starting to work overtime again. Maybe she should leave earlier than planned in case there was traffic? “Any more advice?”

  “Relax.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s likely.” She left the kitchen for the living room, put on her heels, took a few steps to accustom herself again to the new height, visibly shaky with nerves. She gathered her coat, purse, directions to the restaurant… What else? Was she missing something? She hated this near-panicky feeling.

  “Ready?” He was waiting by the door.

  She crossed to him, touching her jacket pocket to make sure she had her car keys. “I hope I find parking.”

  “There’s a lot by the restaurant.”

  “Good. Wait.” She touched her mouth. “Did I forget lipstick?”

  “No.”

  “Do I have my phone?” She rummaged though her purse. “I think it’s here, I just—”

  “Kim.” His hands landed on her shoulders.

  Her fingers closed around her phone. Whew. “What?”

  “Breathe.”

  “I’m breathing.”

  “Slow it down.”

  She tried. “Like this?”

  “You’re breathing too high. Here.” He put his palm to her abdomen. “Breathe from here. Keep your chest still, shoulders relaxed. You know, be a dancer.”

  “Right.” She felt her breathing shift lower and slow.

  “Good?”

  “It helps.”

  “Of course it does. Now close your eyes.”

  She closed them. His hand was warm on her stomach, guiding her breath.

  “Feel better now?”

  “Some.” She did. But she was also aware of him again, in that hot way she didn’t want to be. Could smell his aftershave, sense his body’s size and nearness even without seeing it.

  “Make yourself heavy.” His fingers left her abdomen, moved to the back of her neck and started a slow massage.

  “Ohhh.” Delicious. Muscles she didn’t realize she was holding tight succumbed to the gentle pressure. Muscles worried about the date, muscles overused from sitting too long at the computer, muscles afraid she’d lose Charlotte’s Web and have to return to the hell of an office like Soka Associates.

  “Better?”

  “You have no idea.”

  His hands were magic, finding the pain and tension, easing it away. Her neck, her upper back, her shoulders. Heaven.

  “When you’re sitting with him, if you feel tense, just think of me doing this, touching you this way.” His voice was low, hypnotic, and very close. He barely had to make sound and she could hear him. “Think of my hands on you, Kim. Think of how they made you feel.”

  Mmm… Wait, that was the last thing she should be thinking of when she was with Dale. The last thing. The very, very…mmm.

  He hit a particularly wonderful spot at the base of her neck; she arched back, her lips parting to emit a soft moan of contentment. The hand at the base of her neck stopped massaging, cupped the back of her head. She froze instinctively. Nathan muttered something she couldn’t catch, and her head was pulled up.

  Her eyes shot open. Too late. His lips were a centimeter from hers. Then not even that far. She braced her hands against his chest, tried to push away. At the same time she registered the beautiful soft-firm pressure of his mouth, and the dark burst shooting through her, which had nothing to do with nerves this time. Oh, my God.

  Nathan pulled back, grinning like the devil himself. “There.”

  “What was that for?”

  “To give you that just-kissed glow.”

  “Glow? What the hell are you talking about? I’m not glowing, I’m pissed.” She glared at him. Smug jerk. “That was completely out of—”

  He pulled her against the hard length of hi
s body, his arms overpowering her resistance—at least she was pretty sure that’s why she was still standing there being kissed again. And how. She didn’t get away from him until he released her, leaving her limp and confused.

  “Geez, Nathan, what gave you the right to—”

  “Go look.”

  “What?” She pushed him away, dangerously stirred up. “Go look at what?”

  “Yourself.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” She scowled at him. “You need help, buddy.”

  “You have to fix your lipstick, anyway.” He hadn’t stopped grinning. Not for a second. “And you can see for yourself. Like a lightbulb.”

  “What is like a lightbulb?”

  “You glowing.”

  “Oh, right.” She snorted. “You are a cocky, arrogant, appalling excuse for a man.”

  “Okay. But go look. And tell me whether you’d rather show up for this Dale guy, looking like you do now, or like you did ten minutes ago?”

  “Give me a break.” Growling, she marched into the bathroom and met her own eyes in the mirror.

  Yes, her lipstick was gone. But also gone were her pallor, the worry from around her eyes, the tension in her forehead and mouth.

  Oh, God. He was right. The son of a bitch was absolutely right.

  She was glowing.

  7

  Seven o’clock

  MIMMA’S WAS BEAUTIFUL. Excellent service, great atmosphere, every table filled. The menu was varied; the portion sizes, from what Kim could see at other tables, were enormous. Dale was everything she’d hoped. Maybe a little shorter and softer around the edges than she’d imagined, but decently attractive, and therefore just right.

  Except… She’d walked in the front door where he was waiting and recognized him right away. Insides fizzing with excitement, she’d put on a huge smile. Here he was, the man she’d been emailing for so many days, the man who already felt like a friend, and who could become a whole lot more than that. He’d caught sight of her and she’d had the agony of seeing a flash of disappointment on his face before he recovered.

  Her worst nightmare. Even made up and dressed well she wasn’t what he wanted? What had he expected? She hadn’t even opened her mouth yet.

  They sat at a table in one of the dining rooms—Mimma’s was huge—and the waitress came by within moments to welcome them and offer drinks.

  Dale hadn’t hesitated. “Double Scotch on the rocks,” he’d said, then turned expectantly to Kim.

  She guessed ordering a Miller Lite wouldn’t cut it. What was a sophisticated drink? Think chic, classy…Sex and the City.

  She ordered a cosmopolitan.

  Now they were studying the menus in that horrible silence that settles over strangers deciding whether to talk or get the business of ordering dinner out of the way. Kim could barely take in the choices, hoping her cosmo would show up soon. Not only was she off balance from Dale’s disheartening reaction, but she couldn’t get the feel and taste and memories of Nathan’s kisses out of her head. Or her fury that he’d done something so personal and affected her so strongly, when his intention all along had been to fluff her up for another man.

  The silence at the table was becoming truly painful. Kim grabbed the name of a ravioli dish off the menu and smiled her most alluring smile. “Tell me more about Jamaica, Dale.”

  Not that she wanted Nathan to kiss her for himself, of course not. It was the principle of the thing. Kissing shouldn’t be wasted on gimmickry.

  “Ah, Jamaica.” Dale glanced up, returned his gaze to the menu. “Home to the world’s best coffee, reggae music. La dolce vita, my friend.

  “Nice.” It wasn’t as if Nathan meant anything by the kisses, either. It was just more of his horrible arrogance, treating women like objects. If you were going to kiss a woman, it should be because you really wanted to. Because you really felt something. Not for some stupid impersonal reason. “Do you go there often?”

  Where was her drink? She didn’t usually go for the hard stuff, but tonight she’d need all the help she could get. Trying to impress one guy while wanting to murder another took a lot of energy.

  “Whenever I can, whenever there isn’t somewhere else calling my name.” He smiled and his nice brown eyes crinkled in the corners, which she’d always thought was very sexy. Maybe she was just too tense to succumb to his chemistry tonight.

  “Where have you traveled to recently?”

  “Ha. Where haven’t I?” He took off his frameless glasses, which made his eyes larger and closer. He really had beautiful eyes. She should be able to happily stare into them for quite a while. Someday. Maybe not tonight. Tonight she saw only Nathan’s eyes, smug and triumphant, while she’d been falling apart. “Most recently London, Beijing and a brief stay in Rome.”

  “That sounds incredible.”

  “It is. I’m very lucky. And very good at what I do.”

  “I’m sure you are.” In Nathan’s view, women were completely interchangeable one from the other. Kim couldn’t imagine how many women thought his act was put on for their benefit and inevitably were disillusioned. She felt sorry for all of them.

  “I work hard for it. Job security is so important.”

  “Mmm, yes, it really is.”

  The silence stretched again. She searched her brain for some intelligent and fitting topic, but came up with nothing other than what she might hurl at Nathan’s head when she got home. He couldn’t get away with treating her as if she were one of his bimbos. She’d totally set him straight on that.

  “Tell me about Kim. How’s she doing?”

  “Oh.” She jerked her brain guiltily back to the date, wondering if she was supposed to talk about herself in the third person. Kim is fine, thanks. “Well, let’s see. Right now I’m a little frustrated. The Carter project I told you about, which is so important to me, is still not going as well as—”

  “I don’t want to hear about that.” He waved her career away like it was dust. “It’s you I want to know. Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

  “Oh.” What was she feeling? Besides wanting to sock Nathan when she got home? “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

  “Oh, yes. That will certainly happen.” He didn’t sound certain. Was she blowing this? If she blew this because Nathan had so flustered her, she was definitely going to sock him when she got home. Where the hell was that drink?

  As if she could sense Kim’s near-despair, the waitress appeared. “Here we go. Cosmopolitan and a double Scotch.”

  Thank you, God.

  “Excellent.” Dale took a sip, swallowed, tasted again. “Single malt. The Macallan? Ten-year?”

  The waitress nodded, smiling. “That’s exactly right.”

  He grinned triumphantly at Kim. “I’m an amateur expert.”

  “I’m impressed.” She smiled casually, when actually she was floored. She didn’t think there was anything she could identify by one sip. Coke maybe. Nathan could probably name every beer on the market.

  Stop thinking about Nathan.

  “Are you ready to order?” The waitress stood poised.

  “Absolutely.” Dale started to point to the menu, then apparently remembered his manners and gestured to Kim. “Ladies first.”

  She couldn’t remember what ravioli she’d selected last time, and blindly ordered the first one she saw and a salad, then noticed she’d pointed to lobster ravioli, which was a lot more expensive than her first choice. Oops. Dale didn’t blink, ordered gnocchi in a blue cheese sauce, and fried calamari. Then took such elaborate care choosing a bottle of wine that Kim succumbed to an admittedly large first gulp of her cosmopolitan, telling the alcohol to please hurry up and relax her so she could salvage this evening, which Nathan had put in such jeopardy with his—

  She had to stop. If she wanted this date to work, if she wanted a chance with someone steady and dependable and interesting like Dale, she had to get Nathan out of her head.

  There. Done. He was gone.
Forever.

  Dale finally seemed satisfied with his choice and the wait-ress collected their menus and was off. And there they were again. In silence. Kim took another gulp of her drink.

  “How are you finding Milwaukeedates.com, Kim?”

  “Fun.” She clutched the drink. Why bother putting it down when she desperately needed its company? “Since Marie is a friend of mine it was a natural choice when I decided to start dating.”

  “It seems like there are a lot of quality people on the site.”

  “Oh. Yes. I guess Marie is very…conscientious.” Quality people? She wasn’t really sure what defined a quality person. Trappings? Education? Kindness? What really mattered to Dale? Whatever it was, she might not have enough of it.

  Another pause, which Kim filled with a slow sip of her drink. How could two people have so much to say in email and nothing to say in person? Was it just nerves? She had been sure they’d be easy friends, at the very least. Maybe the idea of Dale as a perfect relationship was all in her head, all her fantasy.

  All the same, it was a really, really nice one, and she very much wanted it back.

  Eight o’clock

  THIS NIGHT WAS GOING to go on forever. All Nathan could do was sit in the living room he shared with Kim and hope she was having the worst night of her life. Hope she was sitting at the table thinking about him as hard, and as sexually, as he was thinking about her.

  Kissing her, even surprise-attack kissing, even pretending it was some cheap trick to make her relax for her date, had been like no kissing he’d ever done. Lust had been part of it, sure. But also a pull from deep in his chest. A pull that made him kiss her again, even after she’d made it clear the first one hadn’t been welcome, because there was no way, having kissed her once, that he couldn’t do it again.

  Remembering was torture. Sitting here without her was torture. But he was obviously a masochist, because all he’d done in the hour and a half since she’d left was sit here without her and remember.

  He flicked listlessly through TV channels. Nothing appealed. He’d tried to force himself again to do some work on his thesis, a design for low-income “green” housing with a Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design—which everyone called LEED—certification at the platinum level, the highest possible. But while he could put the necessary ingredients together—south-facing windows for light and heat, trees sheltering from the north, passive and active solar features, wastewater treatment—the result never satisfied him.