Her Shirtless Gentleman

by M. Q. Barber

  Be a shame to cut that tie off with scissors. But she’d see him without it tonight. Whether the night ended with sex or more casual fooling around, she wouldn’t deny the heat curling around her spine.

  “Dinner first.” She let him lead her out the door, grabbing her clutch along the way. “We can talk policy while we stuff our faces.”

  Rob coughed.

  She cringed. Lord, let the sun melt her right into the front walk.

  No. New policy. Own it.

  She dug a teasing elbow into his side. “Could get pretty hot.”

  “I’m thinking it’s awfully hot now.” He jiggled the knot in his tie. “Feels like I’m burning up.”

  “We should make our next date at the pool.” She waited for him to open the passenger door. Stepping on the running board, she ducked inside. “Be a great way to cool off.” And spend hours staring at the sleek physique hiding under his dressy duds.

  “Shucks, Nora, I’ll throw a liner in the truck bed and fill ’er up from the garden hose. Your own private pool.” He closed her door, rounded the truck, and swung in beside her. “I dunno how that dress’ll fare in the water, though.”

  Silk? Not well.

  He slipped the truck into reverse, his hand landing beside her shoulder as he turned to check the back.

  She cleared her throat, drawing his attention. “Poor Robin.” She dared a pat above his knee.

  He tightened under her touch.

  Lowering her chin, she glanced at her dress and back up at him, trying for a flirtatious smile. “You’ve never been skinny dipping?”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You have?”

  Pulling her hand back, she shook her head. Too many things she’d never done. “But I’d try with you. A girl’s gotta have a bucket list.”

  * * * *

  Sweet Christ. Boldness roamed her eyes and her teasing words and her too-brief caresses. Lust would snap his dick off in his boxer-briefs if she kept on.

  Lust and something more tender, the hope flaring in his chest from his name spelled out in thin letters on a dusty floor. Her sweet smile of acceptance at the flowers he’d plucked from his yard with his own hands.

  “What else you got on that list, honey girl?” He glued his hands to the wheel. The flowing dress she wore tempted him more than water in the desert.

  The dress matched her eyes. The deep blue with embroidered silvering-gray spirals resembled Air Force colors. Ones he’d dressed himself in. She capped hers with tumbling curls flashing hints of honey gold in brown depths. If he took his hands from the wheel, he’d unpin those curls and drag her onto his lap.

  “I dunno yet.” Her quiet wonder floated high as the stars in the seductive, infinite expanse of possibility. “Nobody’s ever asked me.”

  A million questions crowded his mind. He’d ask them all, every single one, over a lifetime. “Wild adventures? Trekking to the south pole?” He’d gotten the travel bug out of his system in the service. “Skydiving? Swimming with sharks?” Adrenaline, too.

  Her laughter sparkled. “Probably not those. I’m a homebody. Simple is exciting and fancy enough for me.”

  He might’ve miscalculated tonight. The restaurant he’d pointed the truck toward was fancy, a rarity without driving her all the way to Des Moines. He’d discarded Plan A soon as he’d found himself surfing hotel room reservations. Too much pressure for his skittish girl. Last thing he wanted was her saying yes because she felt she had to. Like he expected sex in exchange for dinner.

  “Hope you’re not offended I wanted to take you on a fancy date.” His Nora got touchy about being bought, but she deserved to shine like a gem. Tough to find new ways to show a woman what she meant to him. A man’s wallet carried the cultural currency for that.

  He took advantage of the red light to indulge in shameless appreciation of her fancy state. Probably give himself joint trouble from clutching the wheel so hard.

  She shook her head. “Not offended.”

  “But you’re not impressed, either.”

  “You’ve impressed me a hundred times over, and not one way had to do with the size of your wallet.” She gripped his knee.

  God himself wouldn’t put the judgment on him for pouncing if she slipped her hand higher. Her bare neck needed adornment. Dozens of bruising kisses.

  She curved her lush lips in a sweetheart smile. “Light’s green.”

  Shit, so it was.

  “Sorry about that.” He hit the pedal. “Seems a mighty fine distraction in a pretty blue dress took the seat next to me.”

  “Good reason for a fancy date.” She drew circles on his knee, her left hand paler below the line on her wrist where his spare mitt had covered her skin Saturday. The sun had warmed the rest of her peachy arm to a pale gold. More reasons to kiss her. Trace every tan line with his tongue.

  She sighed. “You look delicious in a suit.”

  The urge to make a meal of her in that dress sent him scrambling for a safer topic. Too bad good manners wouldn’t let him take her to bed and then dinner. His folks had taught him better. He had more class and self-control than a sex-crazed teen, didn’t he?

  Barely.

  He pulled into the parking lot. Stout’s Steakhouse, the only top-notch dining experience in town, with prices to match. Linen napkins. Elegant service and all that, with trendy craft-beer panache. He cut the engine.

  “Mmm.” Her low moan plunged into his shorts and made his dick jump. “Their dry-aged rib eye with roasted red potatoes is fantastic.”

  Aw hell. Sure she’d eaten here before. Her ex was a lawyer wining and dining the too-good-for-you crowd. The place might be full up on bad memories of playing the dutiful wife and schmoozing with clients.

  He laid his hand over hers and squeezed. “If you wanna go somewhere else, I’ll take you anywhere you want, Nora.”

  “Nope.” Dangling curls bounced around her face as she shook her head. “New policy. Part of the bucket list, I guess.”

  “Yeah?” Whatever she named, she’d have. He’d keep her list safe in his head, bytes and packets tucked away for later retrieval. Make every last item come true. “What’s that?”

  “Remind myself the past is done and be thankful for the happiness I have now.” Her gaze darted between his eyes and his lips, her eyelids fluttering with every shift.

  Her sweet scent luring him closer, he brushed her lips in a kiss. “This makes you happy?”

  “You do.” She kissed him back, her tongue tentative and searching. “Us makes me happy.”

  “Me too,” he mumbled into her mouth. Habit-forming addiction, her kisses.

  He dragged himself free and escorted her inside. She outshone the rest of the diners by miles, a gleaming beacon of beauty. More than one head turned. He kept a hand on her back as their waiter pulled out her chair.

  “Pack of wolves in here.” He ducked his head and nuzzled her ear. “Have to be sure none of them tries to carry off my Nora.”

  Her laugh floated atop more than a touch of disbelief. “So long as you want to whisk me away, that’s all I need.”

  “We haven’t gotten in our seats yet, and I’m already thinking about how much I’d like to take you home.” Dangerous words, but he refused to hold back. If his boldness encouraged hers, so much the better for them both.

  A true burst of laughter escaped her, a little loud, a lot charming. Redness colored her cheeks as she sat and gave the waiter her drink order, a raspberry wheat shandy.

  Soon as the waiter departed, she leaned across the table. “I had the same thought, you know. When you rang the bell.”

  His dress pants hadn’t been so tight when he’d put them on. “A gentleman is always ready to follow his lady’s lead.”

  “What if—” She tilted her head, speculation tinting her eyes. “What if she doesn’t know where she’s going?” Her knuckles tightened around the leather-bound single-sheet menu. “What if she’s never been there before? Or, or thought she’d been, but they turned out to be completel
y different destinations?”

  Places and things she’d thought she had. Good sex? A loving relationship? A solid marriage? Best to start simple. But if she was thinking on marriage with him, he’d set the date whenever she said the word.

  He engulfed her hand in his sturdy grasp. Tiny. Impossible to believe she’d whipped a grounder from shortstop to first base with no more than a hop and a scoop last week.

  “Then they find their way someplace new together.” He nudged her menu. “You’ve been here before—tell me what I want for dinner.”

  She wiggled taller, an S-curve in brilliant blue, even as she ducked her chin and half-hid a slow-growing smile. “You want me to order for both of us?”

  “Why not?” Compromise. Sure, handing over the decisions smacked of backward duty-shirking when his responsibilities included seeing her needs got met, but her bright eyes confirmed the rightness of his offer. He’d let her pay for breakfast Saturday. Swallowing manly pride and trusting her to order instead of bulldozing over her preferences with his own wouldn’t hurt him none. “I don’t need a hatful of outdated rules, Nora. I need you.”

  Her fingers trembled. “I like that,” she whispered.

  Getting down to business, she quizzed him as she narrowed the choices.

  Their waiter didn’t bat an eye when Rob directed him to take his marching orders from Nora. Three hours they sat, tasting from each other’s plates and trading little touches. Oddly comfortable for a fancy date. For once, he hadn’t spent half the night searching for an excuse to drop pretenses and cut dinner short.

  They ordered a shared dessert, some flourless chocolate torte with an orange sauce. Two bites in, he declared the concoction too rich for himself and started feeding her the rest. Not quite a lie—the dense cake was super-rich—but mainly a ploy to bring the fork to her lips and feast on the pleasure in her face.

  She closed her eyes with a graceful sweep of her eyelashes above her cheekbones. Her pink tongue curled around the fork tines. Her cheeks hollowed as she tugged the bite into her mouth, and her tongue cleaned her lips when she’d finished savoring the taste.

  God help him, he’d put that look on her face a time or two later tonight minus the cake.

  He raised the fork again. “Can I tempt the lady with another?”

  “You—” Her gaze drifted, and her smile faded.

  Coming on ten o’clock, the restaurant was busy still. A server stood beside an empty table, seating a party of four.

  A man with a big-titted blonde in a red dress on his arm shot Nora a contemptuous stare. He made a remark to his dinner companions and headed over. The fancy fella carried himself with the big-swagger importance of a miniature poodle in a pack of full-size mutts. Strutting chin out and arms swinging, he filled the aisle and forced passing waiters to reroute without glancing or slowing.

  Rob laid the fork down. He and the glaring ass would be of a size if things came to a standoff, but a quiet exit might suit his woman better. “Nora? You want—”

  She shook her head. Her nostrils flared wide like a horse scenting danger.

  “Eleanora.” The man poured a five-gallon bucket’s worth of disapproval in those four syllables. “I thought we talked about this.”

  After hearing her given name from Pointylips McBlowhard for the last ten years, no wonder Nora would rather a nickname. She spread her hand flat on the table and swallowed. “Did we?”

  The intruder leaned in, his shadow falling across Nora’s arm as if he owned the rights to her personal space. To her. “If you enjoy playing the whore at some dive bar, I won’t stop you, but for God’s sake, keep your shenanigans out of my circles.”

  Rob pushed back his chair. Nora’s ex couldn’t go eight seconds without bullying someone to make himself bigger. Almost be worth the trouble to smack the shit out of his slick smile.

  * * * *

  Oh God. David’s name-calling wouldn’t sit well with her shirtless gentleman. She sprang to her feet as he stood. “Rob.”

  “Seems introductions are in order.” Rob played calm, smiling at her, his voice smooth, though she’d guess he longed to deck David right about now. His loose posture gave no clues, but her gentleman, well—he championed real civility and good manners, not the fake show her ex put on. “You know this rude yapper, Nora?”

  “Such temerity from a jumped-up beer-swiller.” David delivered disdain in his angled brows like he’d been born to it. Small-town kid playing big-city lawyer with fancy words and clipped syllables. “You screw married women in bar bathrooms and I’m the ill-mannered one?”

  His reputation around town mattered a hell of a lot to David, but the sharp edge in his voice cut deeper. She’d tortured herself for months imagining him with his mistress. Maybe he’d spent a night chewing over unwanted thoughts of her and Rob. Fuel for his offended martyr act. As if she’d been holding out on him.

  Rob raised his chin. “I don’t, actually, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

  The gel slicking David’s hair gleamed like grimy coffee grounds clinging to a filter under the restaurant’s muted lighting. “Is that the plan, Els?”

  Using the damned golf nickname he knew she hated. Envy, plain as day. Thinking she’d done sexual favors for Rob she’d never done for him.

  David’s sneer cut hard, ugly lines in his cheeks. “You brought your bar boy here to service him in the men’s room?”

  It was the ladies’ room. Try to keep up. The retort zipping through her skull nearly tumbled out.

  Rob shifted closer, shielding her with his shoulder. “’Bout the only thing from you that’d surprise me is common decency.” He nodded toward the other table. “Your date’s waiting. You sure you wanna do this now? Here? In your circles?”

  Bearing a robotic smile, Jennifer the paralegal sashayed over. Now she carried out the wife duties, put on display entertaining David’s business clients and their spouses.

  “Is he threatening me, Eleanora?” The three diamond studs on David’s tie clip flashed. Still the same piece she’d bought under his supervision to celebrate him passing the bar exam on the second try. His sidestep ate up the space between them. “Because that sounded like intent to commit slander, if not bodily harm.”

  Rob pivoted and raised his hand. A strong hand, a gentle hand, made for cradling her curves and clutching bountiful bouquets of wildflowers. “Take a step back, Davey.”

  David’s huffing laugh came through clenched teeth she’d footed the bill for. Sparkling white, all surface perfection. “If you’re going to pick up pets in such low-class places, put them on a leash. I won’t have my wife parading—”

  “We’re not married anymore.” She launched forward, shoulder to shoulder with Rob. “We’re over.”

  David opened his mouth. “We—”

  “No. You threw away our marriage, and the only reason you want to get in a pissing contest over me now is because you think Rob has me. Too bad for you.” No being afraid of a goddamned door or the man she’d pictured behind it every day for the last two years. “If I crawled under this table and gave him a blowjob better than anything I ever gave you, it still wouldn’t be any of your damned business, you pretentious, arrogant ass.”

  He’d never taken her for a romantic meal focused solely on her. Never fed her from his fork. Rob’s open, honest beauty made him a man worth keeping.

  “Is that how he’s teaching you to talk?” Frame rigid, David eyed the long tablecloth as if she might duck beneath the concealing linen. His arm twitched, primed to drag her away for a private scolding. Denied the chance, he fixed his smirk on Rob, his just-us-boys amusement the same as every time he’d landed a party joke at her expense. “Her mouth is nothing to brag about. She doesn’t know how to use it, and she refuses to learn.”

  Rob twisted toward her, kissed her hair and nudged her ear with his nose. “Your ex always that stupid, or am I just that lucky?”

  Warm and soft, his words cloaked her like a blanket draped over her shoulders on a c
hilly night. She muffled her laugh in his arm. “Maybe you inspire me to new heights.” High enough to let her ignore the sideways stares and increasing whispers at the nearby tables.

  “I’m warning you, Eleanora.” David snagged his paralegal’s wrist as she cozied up to his side. “I want you to stop this behavior—”

  “Guess you should’ve negotiated that in the settlement.” God, not caring elevated their conversation to the best she’d had with him since he’d been a pre-law student flinging charm and compliments. For once, his wasn’t the only voice participating.

  “How are you enjoying my house, Els?” Shark grin widening, David threatened to tear her into the manageable, bite-size pieces he’d manipulated for so long. He’d sharpened his teeth on her ever-more-tattered self. “Sometimes I feel like I never left.”

  “Lavish but empty, like its former owner.” Holding her tongue hadn’t gained her a damned thing in the last ten years. And honesty grew addictive. “I overpaid for what I got.”

  Jennifer sneered. “I always found your furnishings a little cheap.”

  “How would you know?” The nerve. Had she gotten the silver service appraised between rounds of David’s monotonous drilling and constant corrections? “The ceiling’s not decorated.”

  Rob snorted.

  “Maybe the ceiling’s the only thing you ever see.” Jennifer ran her finger down David’s lapel. “I give my man more than that. I bet that’s why—”

  “You check the sheets every night to see how many women he’s sharing your bed with?” Rob’s words dropped into sudden silence.

  “You told him? I will own you for that.” David glanced at the nearest tables without turning. Air hissed through his teeth and cheek-stretching smile. Always the showman. For a man who loved being the center of attention, he hated being a spectacle.

  “I told him the truth. You wanted to force me to live a lie.” Hiding everything about David and his trophy. Letting their dirty secret stain her, too. “I would’ve thought you’d have had your fill after fucking her in our bed for months behind my back. But good for you. Unless you’ve found a replacement and haven’t told her yet. That’s your style.”