by M. Q. Barber
“Been a while since you’ve been in the dating market.” He’d envy her the freedom from the chase, if her marriage hadn’t turned out to be such a botch job. He’d have rather washed his hands of the whole dating scene and settled down a good six or eight years ago himself.
“Ten years.” Sighing, she stared at their hands.
He risked a second touch, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
“Bars aren’t my speed.” She aimed her mumble at their empty plates and crumpled napkins. “The last time I dated, social networking didn’t exist, and my girlfriends argued over whether letting a boy put his hands under their shirts was okay, not whether they should give a guy a blowjob in his car or invite him inside.”
Red crept up her cheeks. The mix of boldness and innocence swirling around her drew him like lightning to a mountaintop. She might embarrass easily, but she powered through with courage and sass. Two more points in her favor. His Nora needed a smidge of old-fashioned high school wooing and confidence-building. Inspiration struck.
“Let me take you out Friday night.” He squeezed her hand. “No blowjobs, I promise. But I might let you put your hands under my shirt.”
A charming giggle erupted from her, and he smiled back. Her laughter had lost the sharp edge. Victory. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Robin.”
From her lips, his given name didn’t sound so bad.
“My fair maid Eleanora.” His chair scraped the floor as he rose. He planted his feet, heels together, and bowed over her hand.
She shivered at the press of his lips. Goose bumps speckled her wrist and disappeared into her sleeve.
He half-closed his eyes in pleasure, the surge of possibility, at her reaction. With a gentle tug, he urged her to stand. He dipped his mouth beside her ear. “At least I know you’re already thinking about holding me.”
Chapter 3
Eleanora’s heart thudded with all the weight of a farmwife’s coin jar. Scurrying around the bedroom Friday evening, she rushed to get ready for her first real date with Rob.
They’d texted back and forth all week since their Monday coffee. Nothing substantial, a handful of short notes and cute greetings, but she’d assigned him his own chime, and her phone belting out the cheerful tune boosted her mood. She’d forgotten the joys of a man’s attention, how his noticing her added a lightness to her days and a hunger to her nights.
David had started his boyfriend tenure thoughtful. But time dragged behind them like an anchor, until even birthdays and Valentine’s days passed without comment.
“Rob will be different. He is different.”
She tugged a pair of comfortable, soon-to-be-for-yardwork-only jean cutoffs over her hips and tucked in her spaghetti-strap cami. Without knowing where he intended to take her tonight, she lacked more to go on than his suggestion for, “Something real relaxed. Outdoors-friendly.”
She brushed her hair into a ponytail, topped it with a worn baseball cap, and moisturized her exposed skin with sunscreen lotion. A gauzy, long-sleeve button-down added protection for her arms. Playing rec league softball on the bank’s team had taught her fear and respect for the Iowa evening sun.
Jamming her heels into broken-in cross-trainers with help from her fingers, she hopped to the entryway with three minutes to spare. She’d left work at five, and he’d insisted he couldn’t pick her up any later than 5:45. The tight schedule didn’t leave time for showering or extensive beauty rituals.
Rob’s shirt, washed and folded, lay on the hall table beside the door. Her keys rested on top. She pressed her fingers to the fabric. Still soft. But if she raised the shirt to her nose now, its dryer-fresh scent would disappoint. No hint of him remained.
The rumble of an engine drew her to the door. Rob pulled into the drive smooth and sure, behind the wheel of a pickup truck.
Sharp, blistering heat chewed under her ribs and shredded vital organs. If she’d misunderstood and dressed too casually, he’d label her old and frumpy and never ask her out again. Or he’d think she wasn’t trying hard because she didn’t want to date him.
Dammit. She’d forgotten anxiety and second-guessing went along with the giddy excitement. Waiting on a man’s approval, alluring as the fantasy proved, lacked the same thrill in reality.
He stepped down from the truck, casual and easy, laid-back and lanky, a confident man in a body built for sex appeal.
She swung between the highs and lows like a teenager in the throes of her first crush. Excruciating, exhilarating, and too overwhelming to stand for long. Scooping up his shirt and her keys, she yanked open the door to the hallucination-inducing 90-degree heat of Iowa in July. She almost smacked him in the face with the screen.
He flung his arm up and caught the frame. “Well that’s a good sign.” He looked her over from head to toe. “And that’s another.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away mortification. “I swear, I’ve been operating doors all my life. I have a great safety rating.”
“Only decapitated two previous suitors, did you?” He tapped his head against the wood below his hand, his flinch exaggerated with raised brows, an open mouth, and a double take. Goofy man.
“Three, but they never made the charges stick.” Playing along wrapped her in Rob’s teasing humor, welcome insulation from the echoes of her ex-husband’s exasperated corrections.
Laughing, he backed up a step. “I’ll be on my guard, Miss Dangerous.”
She followed, locking the door behind her. “What signs did you mean?”
He held the screen until she slipped by him on the front walk. Breathing deep in passing, she relished his earthy scent. The heat and humidity thickened smells into tastes, swarming her with a rich and decadent masculine darkness. The screen snapped shut, and she jumped.
“First good sign is you rushing out your door to greet me.” He laid his hand against her back as he had at the bar a week ago, guiding her forward with light pressure. “Either you’re one of those hoarding folks afraid to let people in the house, or you’re awful eager to go out with me. I figure I’ll hope for the second.”
His light confession swatted her fears. The dating vulnerability game worked both directions. Her chasing his approval didn’t sting so deep when he admitted to chasing hers in return.
Delivering her to the passenger side, he pulled the door open and offered her a hand despite the easy step-up running board.
She took his hand. Not requiring his help for balancing faltered beside the more compelling desire to touch him. Anywhere would do. She settled in the seat and reached for the belt. “What’s the other good sign?”
He zipped the strap forward. Pressing the buckle into her palm, he brushed her skin. His gaze drifted down her legs and back.
She returned the favor, scoping out his uncluttered, well-worn jean shorts and plain orange t-shirt. Probably the same style as the black one whose neat folds she crushed in her lap.
The belt clicked into place.
“You know what relaxed means.” He pinched the brim of her cap between thumb and forefinger and gave her a teasing wiggle. “No heels or pearls or froofy nonsense, as my mama would say. And you didn’t keep me standing at the door while you ran through your closet a hundred times. I like a woman with courtesy and common sense.”
He closed the door and crossed in front of the pickup.
She exhaled a flood of relief. Not frumpy. Suitable.
The driver’s seat receded beneath his solid frame. He turned over the engine.
Leaning back, she crossed her ankles as the air conditioning started flowing. “How long a ride are we looking at?”
He paused his hand on the gearshift. “You wrap your mouth around the nicest words sometimes, Eleanora.” Flashing a smile, he winked. “You tell me how long you want the ride to last, and I’ll do my damnedest to meet your needs.”
Groaning, she dropped her face in her hands. God, she’d actually asked that. “Is everything an opening for innuendo to
you?”
He coughed.
Now what had—opening. His sense of humor set her cheeks ablaze, but the naughtiness enticed as much as amused. Something to get used to, this easy charm so unlike David’s stuffy idea of wit. “Okay, smart guy. How far away is the place we’re going?”
“You afraid I have terrible taste in driving music?” Rob threw the truck in reverse and backed down the drive. His free hand rested on the seat back near her shoulder.
“I’m dying of curiosity. You won’t tell me a thing about where we’re going or what we’re doing.” Nervous laughter trickled from her throat. If she’d chosen to trust the wrong man, a lengthy and awkward night loomed. “It’s my first date in a decade, and I don’t want to end up in a ditch somewhere.”
“I don’t mean to scare you, Eleanora. I wanted to surprise you. Make our date a thrill.” He brushed her shoulder, pulled away, and shifted into drive. “If you’re truly uncomfortable, say the word, and I’ll spill my secrets. But if you can hang in there for twenty minutes, all will be revealed.”
Not far. Somewhere in town.
“I’ll wait and see,” she croaked from a mouth gone dry. “Don’t mind my jumpiness.” The last time a man had surprised her, his gift had been the sight of his bare ass featuring another woman’s legs wrapped around it. Less thrill and more devastation. “I’m being silly.”
“It’s okay to be nervous. Hell, I am.”
“You don’t look it.” He looked yummy as sin and confident as the devil himself.
“My heart’s whomping like a Huey. I’m trying to impress a pretty girl. She’s smart and funny, too, and I’d like to give her a kiss before the night’s over.”
She stared at him, but he kept his eyes on the road. The onslaught of compliments flustered and emboldened at the same time. He wanted to kiss her. A man’s mouth hadn’t touched hers in two years. Desire swarmed thick as bees in a hive.
“So I’m thinking every second”—he spoke dead ahead, fixed on the windshield, his jaw popping his cheek in profile—“thinking on how I can ease her mind and show her I’m a trustworthy guy, ’cause I think she hasn’t seen many of those.” He flexed his hand on the steering wheel, long fingers straightening and re-gripping. “When she makes that choice I want her thinking about how good it feels and not worrying she’s making a bad decision.”
They pulled up to a red light. A breeze set the signal swaying on the line.
“Rob.” She darted toward him even as he turned.
Their lips met.
* * * *
She tasted of mint and smelled of spring, of the sweet honeysuckle that curled around his fence posts and shrouded the wood in strong vines and delicate flowers. Her fingers grazed his cheek.
He groaned his approval, her tentative touch alluring and deserving encouragement. His mind raced ahead, plotting the motions to release her seatbelt, slide her across the bench seat to his side and lay her on her back. Five seconds and his mouth could be wetting her breasts through the thin blue shirt clinging to her skin.
Forcing himself to hold back tested his limits harder than securing a system run by lazy password admins. When she sighed against his lips, he almost tossed caution aside.
A car horn blared.
Eleanora jumped back, tearing their mouths apart.
Pissed-off driver. Right. Because he’d sat at a light, behind the wheel, not moving, while his cock did his thinking for him.
She peered at him with blue-gray eyes wide. Her swollen, pursed lips and flushed cheeks invited him to taste her again.
Damned impatient driver behind him laid on the horn, blasting long and shrill. Curses flooding his head, he zipped through the intersection beneath the yellow light.
A block later, Eleanora was still studying him. Or his general direction, anyhow. Her hazy, unfocused gaze hovered around his chin, and her lips curled inward like a woman evening out her lipstick.
Stare like that’d make a man nervous. ’Specially when he’d gotten a helluva goodnight kiss ten minutes into the date. “Well? How’d I do?”
She took a long blink as she inhaled. “Fantastic.”
Her low purr shot an ache up his cock. Please God, don’t let her sneak a peek at his shorts. He hadn’t fought to hide a burgeoning erection so urgently since ninth grade.
He’d swear on a Bible, a calculator, the federal interest rates—whatever she believed most sacred—his attraction leap-frogged beyond sex. But the enticement of their initial rush of hormones held undeniable sway. A powerful longing claimed him each time he laid eyes on her, and the urge strengthened with exponential force at every subsequent meeting.
“Way better than I anticipated,” she added, her tone turning thoughtful.
“You’ve been anticipating?” God knew he had. Every morning and night for the last week. “That’s good. ’Course, you expecting I’d be a lousy kisser isn’t doing wonders for my ego.”
She chuckled, a hearty laugh and not the fake girlish trill of a woman enduring a bad date with grace. “I thought I’d be lousy. It’s been”—she dropped her head and twisted the frayed edge of her shorts between her fingers—“a long time. Wasn’t sure I remembered how.”
“You’re doing better than fine, make no mistake.” He slowed to cross the train tracks. Iron rumble-bumps succumbed to steady handling. No jolting discomfort for his Nora. “But if you want more practice, you know where my mouth is.”
Her smile spread slow and easy as she relaxed into the seat.
He eased his left leg against the door panel. He’d need to invest in roomier shorts if she meant to be so damned enticing all the time.
Green rows of knee-high soybeans and higher than head-height corn flashed past the windows. The turn came quick. Easing the pickup off the main road and onto the crushed gravel, he relished the gasp from the passenger seat. “Figure where we’re going yet?”
She bobbed with unexpected excitement, ponytail bouncing against the seat back. “How did you know?”
He pulled up to the end of the line. Five cars idled ahead of them. His rush had paid off. They’d get a spot at the back, a private cocoon for sampling each other’s charms if she were so inclined. After her cock-swelling kiss, he had to believe she was.
“I don’t suppose I did.” The gates wouldn’t open for another fifteen minutes, but he left the engine running. They’d be in the hazy heat soon enough. “You tell me what you think I know, and I’ll try to convincingly pretend I planned it all along.”
In truth, his plan hadn’t gone further than finding an activity appropriate for the juvenile feeling he thought she’d like to recapture. No place better than the drive-in movies for a night of cuddling and petting high-school style.
Her tiny snort charmed him.
“You’re laid-back. You’re funny, but you don’t boast.” She squeezed her hands together in her lap, her thumb rubbing at the empty ring finger. “It’s nice.”
He reached across the seat back and wound a lock of her hair around his finger. Addictive stuff, a honey-brown rich, thick, and silken. Man wouldn’t go wrong waking to the same view.
“I’m glad you like it.” He’d cut out of work early to clean the pickup and pretty things up for her. Lowering his voice, he teased. “So, you come here often?”
She frowned, a quirky little sideways blip beneath flat, shuttered eyes. “Not once.”
“Then I’m the lucky man who gets to show you something new.” One of a hundred delights he’d show her if she gave the go-ahead. Her ex must’ve been quite a prize. What sort of man couldn’t be bothered to escort his girl to the drive-in when the idea had her bunny-bounding in her seat?
“My parents used to take us. I grew up in Ohio. Dayton has this gorgeous old double-screen drive-in.” Her voice warmed, wistfulness calling to him. “We went every weekend, all summer, the whole family.”
Ahh. He’d lucked into a corner of childhood nostalgia. A time she’d felt safe and loved, before she’d wilted in a years-long drought.
Tender nurturing and irrigation would perk her up. The promise of seeing her in full blossom had already perked him up.
“We’ve only got the one screen, but the corn dogs and the soft pretzels can’t be beat.” He brushed the tip of her ponytail against her neck, the ticklish caress a placeholder for the kiss he ached to bestow. “And the caramel corn melts on your tongue.”
She glanced at her hands with a small smile. Breathing out, she lifted her head and looked him right in the eyes. “Is that how you’re gonna taste it? On my tongue?”
Sweet Jesus. When she found her confidence, she sure as hell found it good. A regular firecracker waiting to pop. “I’ll taste anything you want, Eleanora. Any way and anytime you want me to.”
* * * *
The arousal pooling between her legs challenged her not to squirm beneath his heavy gaze. She pressed her thighs together. Her breath stuttered.
Did he truly mean that?
He held her mesmerized as if willing her to believe him.
She wanted to kiss him again. Too soon after she’d been so impulsive at the stoplight. He’d expect more, faster, if she admitted her desire and surrendered. Had fighting off hormones been this difficult as a teenager? Memory made the struggle seem easier then, or maybe Rob accounted for the difference. More arousing than high school boys had been. Straight-up lust after two years without.
“My mouth is dry,” she blurted. What the hell? She’d lost control of higher brain function. Speech took a detour through desire and emerged twisted and nonsensical.
He tipped his head. Playing with her hair, he slid his hand behind her neck. He flicked her earlobe back and forth with his thumb. “If you’re saying you want a cold drink,” he whispered, “I’m gonna feel awful foolish in a second.”
She started to shake her head, but he held her firm.
He swooped down and planted his mouth against hers.
Relaxing into his kiss, she opened her mouth for the swipe of his tongue. The man knew his stuff. He quelled her nerves and enhanced her arousal with a single motion.