Her Shirtless Gentleman

by M. Q. Barber

  “No. For telling you he had anything to teach you.” He’d have to watch himself with her. Make sure he didn’t repeat the jackhole’s belittling behavior if she’d take any suggestion as a demand. Let her explore at her own pace like she had in choosing to blow him hours ago. Christ, the phantom flick of her tongue held the power to rouse him now. “Your skills aren’t lacking, honey girl. They sure as hell aren’t bad.”

  She waved off his words. “You don’t have to stroke my ego, Rob. I know I’m not the kind of woman men lust for.”

  “Bullshit.” Bluntness might succeed where delicate handling failed. He leaned half across the table, the sweetness of maple syrup flooding his nose, and lowered his voice. “You wail and moan like a saxophone symphony. You taste of honey and caramel on my tongue. You strangle my cock with those slim fingers, and the sweet suction between your lips makes me wanna crawl inside you and never come out. I’m hard as hell in the middle of the damn pancake house thinking about proving to you how sexy you are in bed and out.”

  Such stillness. A prey animal, albeit one with a fork clenched in a death grip. He might’ve gone too far.

  She shivered through her whole body. Rippled like an orgasm crashing over her.

  His cock begged to crack that code and study her from the inside.

  “Rob…” She wrapped her mouth around his name in a low moan.

  “You’re so beautiful, Nora. I can’t explain how much.” He’d never wished so hard to have a head for words instead of math and mechanics. “You add up in all the right places.”

  Her smile grew from a tiny lift at the corners to a full-on, white-teeth-gleaming grin. “You’re the biggest asset on my balance sheet, Rob.” She giggled. “I like the way our numbers look.”

  “Me too.” Hell, he had a pair of numbers on the brain himself. And they’d look pretty damned sweet in her bed, or his, or anywhere else she wanted to try them out. Their languages meshed fine without fancy words. “I promise you I’m a solid investment.”

  Laughter turned her cheeks red and left her gasping for breath. “So I hear.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m not gonna run the numbers at the table, though. Might shock our waitress.”

  Mmm. Boldness enough to keep him on his toes for the rest of his life. Way too many disappointments between sixteen and thirty-six, short-term pleasures and women who’d told him his career choices lacked ambition or he wanted a family too soon or he had too many old-fashioned notions. Like monogamy.

  “I can wait.” He picked up his cutlery. “’Sides, the pancakes’ll get cold. A man’s gotta have an appetite for something other than sex sometimes no matter how much he’s dancing in his pants.”

  She cut her pancakes without taking a bite. All of ’em, lines and crosswise, like a mom making a plate for a kid too young to handle the knife. An older sibling thing. Or a babysitter thing.

  He’d done the same for his baby sisters at pancake breakfasts while Dad talked weather and yield and Mama shared recipes. The little habits of a lifetime lighting up pattern recognition in his brain. The output statements saying she’s the one and listing their similarities as proof.

  “You won’t try to convince me your sexual needs take precedence over everything else?” She swirled pancake bites in a syrup lake. “Whine about being neglected if I don’t strip off my clothes the second I walk in the door after work?” Her fork paused its backstroke. “I mean, hypothetically. If you were living with someone. I have a house.”

  A three-bedroom rancher full of memories with a jackass who’d treated her like shit. Supposed a ring on her finger made her his property. Missed the mark.

  “Nora, if I whined about being neglected, I expect you’d set me straight right quick. The way I figure, a relationship’s an invitation, not an expectation.” Marriage yoked a couple in harness. Made them pull together in life. Not one holding the whip and the other carrying all the weight. “The answer doesn’t always have to be yes, and the asking doesn’t always have to come from the same side of the equation.”

  “Rob?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How come you aren’t married with kids by now?”

  Kill shot. The bullet fragmented in his chest and ricocheted like nobody’s business. Took out his heart and lungs.

  “Not that you have to be—it’s just you’re so perfect.” She laughed, shaking her head and setting her hair to swaying. “Not perfect-perfect, I mean, everybody’s got flaws, but you—I’m surprised nobody’s taken you off the market yet.”

  Hell. She’d opened up about her ex-husband. He wouldn’t repay her with evasion or silence. “I always wanted too much too soon.” The house. The picket fence. The kids and the dog in the yard. “Wasted my early twenties bedding women who chased men in uniform. The minute talk turned serious, they scooted out the door.”

  Smile slipping south at the corners, she slid closer to the table. Elbows near on, skirting the line Mama’d tsk for and Daddy’d laugh and call a compliment to the cook.

  He’d had fun, sure. Buzzed enough to be charming, not so drunk to make his dick fall down. Getting by on almost enough alcohol to make him not care when the pretty face he’d taken to bed one week walked out with another guy the next.

  Nora laid her fork down gentle as a mother with a sleeping babe.

  “Or ones who didn’t understand why I didn’t want a promotion, wasn’t interested in the higher pay for more admin work and less hands-on puzzle-solving.” Those had been tougher. Weeks of relationship-building and forging deeper connections only to find out she had ambitions he didn’t share. “And now, well, I’m thirty-six and I’ve never been married. Not even engaged.”

  She studied him with narrowed eyes, their blue lost in the steel-gray intensity.

  Full disclosure. Terrifying, because he’d offer Nora a ring on the spot if she’d take one, and telling a woman he fell short for other women smacked of stupidity.

  A rustle under the table brought nudging weight to bear on his shin. One slim leg cross-braced his.

  “On paper, I’m a reject. If nobody wanted to take a chance on me yet, something must be wrong with me, right? So I end up dating women who move on after a few months.” Confusing, unstable girlfriends who treated a misstep like a landmine. Hurled hateful words at him and rejected his apologies as insincere or not understanding the real issue when they wouldn’t tell him the problem. “I don’t know what they’re looking for, but I know I’m not it.”

  “Then those women are damned fools.” She tossed his own words back at him. “And I’m lucky they are.”

  The tightness in his chest eased. “I’m lucky you think so.”

  Her smile settled them in a comfortable rhythm. Eating their pancakes, swapping questions, exchanging past disappointments and future hopes. Laying out a plan for a life together, phrased behind subtlety and hedging.

  They’d emptied their plates long before sunrise hit, near on six in the morning and the real breakfast crowd trickling in. He ought to let her get home and sleep after keeping her awake all night. Could use a nap himself. Be a little much suggesting they take one together, though, even if he managed to keep his hands off her.

  Nora swiveled in her seat, scanning the crowd. Probably equally aware the disappearing darkness signaled the time for sharing secrets had passed. “What’re you doing with the rest of your day now I’ve stolen your whole night?”

  “Can’t steal what I’d give you freely.” Pride and contentment rolled along under his skin. They’d threaded the needle, found the flight path to carry them home safe. Her trust and faith in him walloped him fierce and heavy, a true aphrodisiac.

  “No big plans today anyhow. Softball with the guys.” And their spouses. Kids. “Lots of standing around, drinking beer, bragging about that time the bat cracked and the crowd roared.” Picnicking. Kisses for luck. “More the merrier, if you wanna come along.”

  “Sounds fun.” She fingered the edge of her napkin. “If I wouldn’t be intruding
on your guy time.”

  “Not one bit.” Whole company was like family. Sooner he introduced her around, the better, assuming she felt the same. “A’course, you show up at softball, the boys are gonna know you’re my girl.” He traced the tendons on the back of her hand. “Are you my girl, Nora?”

  She laid her other hand over his and squeezed. “Maybe you’re my guy.”

  Damn straight he was. “I am. All of me. From my imperfect, too-curious head to the crooked little toe I busted dropping a wheelbarrow when I was eight.”

  “Might be too late for a kiss to make that boo-boo better.” Her teasing smile sure as hell warmed him like a healing kiss. “Are you asking me to go steady, Rob?”

  “Don’t have my class ring to give you, but we have been to the drive-in. And you’re already wearing my shirt.” He’d have his mama send up his varsity jacket if she wanted the old thing, fancy-swagger leather sleeves and all.

  “The shirt’s better. Softer. And it smells like you.” She shrugged, and his shirt collar bunched in ripples around her pale throat. “A ring’s not a great measure of a promise anyway.”

  Would be if he gave it. He lifted her left hand and kissed her ring finger. No games between them. She’d almost caused a heart attack saying she didn’t want him to let her go. Popped a marriage proposal into his head and nearly out his damned mouth.

  “So you’ll keep the shirt. And come to softball.”

  “I will.”

  Good. He reached for the check.

  “Wait, let me get that. I’m the one who got you out of bed at half past two.”

  “And I suggested breakfast.”

  “Please, Rob. Let me buy.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” He tapped the plastic tray. Old-fashioned, maybe, and her needing independence. Like separate cars. Compromise. Mama and Daddy had taught him that, too, by example, and he didn’t need a better model for the kind of marriage he wanted. “But if you need to, if it feels like I’m trying to buy your time otherwise, I’ll let you pick up the tab.”

  “You’re not buying me, I know.” Chewing her lip, she shook her head. “This is about me, not you. For today—just this time—I need breakfast to be my treat.” She smiled at him, and her eyes danced. “I’ve never bought a meal for a man before. Don’t you wanna be my first, Rob?”

  Sweet Christ. He scraped together a nod. Tough with all his blood sitting in his cock.

  She dropped enough cash on the table to cover the bill and the tip. Twenty-five percent on the dot. She must’ve done the math in her head and compensated for the hours they’d kept the waitress from serving new arrivals. His generous accountant.

  A few concentrated breaths evened out his blood flow. He stood as she did.

  “Can I take you out fancy next week, then?” The art of negotiation.

  She gestured at herself. “More fancy than this?”

  Mmm. Permission to look, more than a stolen glance. His shirt draped across her breasts and swayed around her hips. The slim-fitting cotton below outlined her thighs and calves. The girl-form of sweatpants, less casual workout and more thin barrier to skin he aimed to touch again soon.

  He curled her hand in his and weaved around the tables. “Real fancy. The kind of fancy where I wrestle with a monkey suit and watch YouTube videos on how to knot a necktie.” He held the door open. “Ladies first.”

  She laid a hand on his chest and stood on her toes. “Don’t make your tie so complicated I can’t get it off you later.”

  His bold Nora, back to torment him in the best way.

  “If it comes to that, I’ll hand you the scissors,” he whispered. “Or you can leave the tie on and lead me around like a dog on a leash.”

  Her eyes sparked lightning in a summer storm. “Maybe I will.”

  He kissed her, right there in the diner entrance. Too tempting not to.

  She leaned into him, her weight a delicious pressure holding him against the door. Maybe she’d like to ride him, her beautiful breasts bouncing and swaying and his cock sliding in and out as she soaked him with her pleasure.

  Their lips parted. Her hair framed her face in a honey-brown wave.

  He resisted the urge to hoist her up and carry her out to his truck.

  She tugged him outside by the hand.

  The cooler air cleared his head. Heat and humidity wouldn’t hit ’til noonish.

  He kissed her again at her car, parked right alongside his like they should be in a driveway or a garage every night. They said their goodbyes, and he closed the door behind her. Locking himself out.

  But he’d be picking her up this afternoon for softball. And next Friday for dinner. They’d see what happened then.

  Chapter 5

  Sex on the brain.

  Nora floated between her bedroom and the bathroom on a cloud of nerves. The door at the end of the hall stood open, a personal challenge. Sunlight on the hardwood turned Rob’s name warm and gleaming amid a dusty sea. Hall-crossings sent hope and panic soaring.

  He’d be here soon for their fancy date night. After their relaxing, low-key outings, tonight should be a breeze. They’d done getting-to-know-you talk. She wouldn’t be going in blind or fearing a dating disaster.

  Except the sex question loomed. Silly to pretend otherwise. She’d gone out and bought a new bra and panty set, for chrissake. New dress, too. Everything fresh, clean, and new for Rob. Even her.

  She stared down the open door. The wedge heels on her sandals echoed. Long, confident strides, same as she’d done every night this week. A careful step across Rob’s name.

  Throttling back her distaste for the room and its former occupant, she made a slow turn in the barren space. “I am not a failure.” Not as a woman, a wife, or a sex partner. David’s laughter rippled in the silence of memory. “You don’t get to decide who I am.”

  The girls at work damn well didn’t get to decide, either. Once they’d shaken her down for the real reason she hadn’t joined them on the last two Friday nights, they’d teased without mercy.

  Oooooh, third date.

  Ellie, you’re so old-fashioned.

  That’s like the sex date for old people, right?

  “I decide.”

  Even if the girls were right, and she was old at thirty-one. She hadn’t looked forward to a man’s touch in years. Not until Rob swept in with his sexy smile and his firm abs. His thoughtfulness. His gentle coaxing and his steady, demanding faith in her.

  She twirled. Swaying silk tickled her ankles. No laughter. Only blessed silence and the expectation of Rob’s appreciation. He’d clasp her waist and slide free the decorative tie before she guided him to the zipper at the neck.

  Mmm. Cloudbank of nerves throwing lightning.

  The doorbell sang its two-toned greeting.

  Panic jangled at her side, an unwanted companion down the hall to the front door. Could she invite him in for the sex first and enjoy dinner after without the question hanging over her head?

  No, he’d probably made a reservation. Besides, if she chickened out during the sex, she wouldn’t get the dinner afterward. She’d be giving up laughter, conversation, and Rob’s sexy smile and gold-flecked eyes.

  Third date.

  She pulled open the door.

  Sweet honeysuckle wafted through the screen. He’d brought a beautiful bouquet of orange, yellow, and white blossoms. “They’re gorgeous.”

  “You’re gorgeous.” He swung the screen aside and held the petals under her nose. “The flowers wish they were so beautiful.” He kissed her cheek as she inhaled. “Probably fretting about whether I got the dirt off their stems.”

  Wildflowers he’d picked himself, from his own yard, maybe. She accepted the bouquet with a shaky hand. Far better than store-bought roses, the insincere apologies David had always brought her. Inhaling again, she met the intense eyes watching her over sweet honeysuckle, butterfly milkweed, and lemony evening primrose.

  “They must not know about your weakness for dirt.” When she’
d admitted to playing softball in high school, Rob had tossed her a spare mitt and they’d added her name to the informal roster. He pulled her into his life so easily. “You told me last week I looked beautiful with half the infield ground into my clothes and hair.”

  Grinning, he tugged one of the curls spilling from the top of her head. She’d worn the rollers overnight—a dead giveaway of her date plans at work—and swept the curls into a loose bun for tonight.

  Rob’s agreement rumbled in his chest. “I like the way you dive for home when the pressure’s on.”

  Home plate. Home run. The reason she’d bought sexy panties. Fun with no room for David’s snide remarks in her head. “I should put these in water before we go. I’ll only be a minute.” Three steps, and she turned back. “You can come in. There’s not—I mean, nothing’s off-limits. If you want to come in.”

  She scurried into the kitchen without waiting for his answer, but the screen door snapped shut a second later, and his shoes tapped on the hall floor. No vase handy. She half-filled a tall glass and set the bouquet in the center of the table. Rob brought life and color into her house.

  And now he stood in the hall to the bedrooms. Gazing at the floor.

  Oh Christ.

  She paced up behind him, echoing sandals and all.

  “I like the redecorating.” Arm outstretched and angled down, he framed an L with his hand as if measuring her progress. “Bold steps on such dainty toes.”

  Her feet had left dusty outlines from her nightly ritual. The first part. The second, after she’d told memory-David off and slipped down the hall to her bedroom, involved less writing Rob’s name in the dust and more calling it to her ceiling. No need to tell him.

  “Lots of redecorating.” Mostly inside her head. “I’m ready for something new.”

  Something like Rob in his charcoal-gray suit and powder-blue shirt with the gold-flecked tie that matched his eyes.

  “I’m glad, Nora.” He captured her hand. “C’mon. Let me take you to dinner before your new no-limits policy gets too tempting.”