by Jo Leigh
His eyes lit up. And there was equilibrium again. Damn if she hadn’t hit the trading-card jackpot. To celebrate, she threw caution to the wind and ordered them both refills on their beers. He told her all about the new lambic brewing he was trying. She’d never even heard of the process—something about using wild yeasts—but he made it sound fascinating. With every anecdote, every lift of excitement in his strong baritone voice, she liked him more and more.
In fact, her body was having a little fiesta all its own, complete with fireworks that lit her up from the blush on her cheeks to the pressure between her legs. Mr. Crawford had started out the evening being good-looking, but now he was attractive.
Maybe ordering more drinks had been a mistake. Still, when was the last time she’d been so caught up in a conversation? She’d hardly given a thought to the busy day she had tomorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I get carried away talking about the brewery. I’d much rather hear about how you managed to become a master sommelier and a master of wine when you’re barely old enough to drink.”
“You charmer. I’m twenty-seven. And I’m not a master of wine yet. I still have my dissertation to finish before I can claim that title.”
“Not the point. I’m no expert, but I know what it takes to get that far. And, what, are you the youngest master sommelier ever?”
“One of. I started early. I had two terrific mentors, both deeply involved in the business, to help me along. Simone grew up at her family’s vineyard in France, and Phillip is also a master of wine and runs a very successful international wine distribution company. I happen to love the taste and I have a decent nose and palate, so they took me under their wing. With their support, I got lucky.”
“I don’t believe luck had anything to do with it. You must have worked your ass off.”
She didn’t reply, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “What about you? How did you get into beer? You mentioned the pub belongs to your dad?”
“The bar was originally my grandfather’s. He bought it in the 1960s. But you couldn’t distill and distribute alcoholic beverages in Queens until 2007, so my father was into home brewing. And yes, he sold some of that from the house, but don’t tell anyone. I got involved when I was a kid, a few years after my mom died. Brewing beer became a thing for me and my dad to do together.”
“I’m sorry about your mom, but that’s very sweet.”
“It was good. It still is. I got more into the chemistry of it all, but he understood beer on an intuitive level. He still does. We work well together.”
“So the whole family takes part?”
“Not all of us. A couple of years ago Ruby got a job as an assistant coach for the Indiana Fever women’s basketball team. But the rest of us do. You’ve met Emmy. She works at the bar part-time. There’s also Amber and Jade.”
“Nice. How come you’re not Silver or, I don’t know, Sterling?”
“Now, that’s where luck really does play a part. My sisters got to name me, and they were in love with Cameron Crowe movies. It was a close call, though. They almost named me Lloyd Dobler.”
That made her laugh. How prescient were his sisters? Cameron didn’t look like John Cusack in Say Anything..., but he possessed that same sincerity that made every girl who’d ever watched the movie fall in love with his character. “It wouldn’t have been terrible to be named Lloyd.”
“Yes, it would have. I already got enough grief for not being into sports like my sisters, all of whom are older and incredibly coordinated. I didn’t need a weirder name than I already have.”
“Cam is very butch,” she said. “Like something from a car.”
He flexed his arm, showing off a good-sized bulge. “That’s me, all right. I wear only muscle shirts to work, even when it’s ten below outside.”
Laughing again, Molly was surprised to find they were both finished with their meals. Which meant she’d get to drag him to her apartment and ravish him until neither of them could move.
He raised his hand to signal the waitress, and that was when it hit her. She couldn’t have sex with Cameron Crawford.
It would ruin everything.
3
LETTING MOLLY PAY the bill wasn’t easy. He’d been raised by fiercely independent women, strong in all kinds of ways and highly opinionated. But in the back of his mind, he heard his father’s voice telling him that there was nothing wrong with a little chivalry.
“Are you sure?” he asked before the waitress returned. “You had to do the scary part, so I should pay.”
“Are you saying that every time you’ve asked a woman out, she’s footed the bill?”
He grinned. “You’re too clever for your own good. You could have made out like a bandit.”
Molly shook her head. “You’ll notice we didn’t go to your favorite restaurant. Besides, I don’t think the rules are so set anymore. Not like they used to be.”
The waitress took the bill folder and his last chance to pay. At least for this meal. “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t I get the cab?”
Molly’s lips parted and she blinked. “Um...”
“Oh. Damn. Sorry. I didn’t mean... That was presumptuous, but not intentional. The cab could just be for you. Even if you live in Connecticut, I don’t mind.” He folded his napkin again, this time putting it on top of his plate instead of on the table. But he had to look at her eventually. When he did, she was smiling. Kind of. Not that big infectious grin he’d seen earlier, but something tighter.
“It’s okay. I was thinking about inviting you over for coffee, but I live all the way in Bensonhurst, and I have a terrible apartment and no milk, in case you like milk. In your coffee.”
He congratulated himself on turning what had been a relaxed and easy conversation into an awkward mess. “I don’t take milk in my coffee, thanks, so we’re good. So, Bensonhurst, huh? I haven’t been to Little Italy, but I have gone to Chinatown. Do you live near there?”
She nodded, but he was reasonably sure she was still troubled by his assumption. “I have cookies, too. They’re just packaged, nothing fancy.”
Maybe not that troubled. “I’m not fancy, either. You ready to go?”
She led him through the restaurant as he tried to figure out his next move. He wanted to go to her place. But he’d misconstrued what he’d thought had been a solid green light. Coffee could mean coffee or it could mean sex. He didn’t think cookies meant anything but cookies. The only thing to do was let things play out. By the time they got to her place, he’d know what to do.
At almost nine, the August heat was still oppressive. The humid air settled over him like a wet dishrag. There were so many people on the street who looked as if they were partially melted. But not Molly.
It had to be starch that kept her blouse from wilting. He’d never given starch a thought, outside of its chemical properties, but now he wanted to touch her shirt, see if it felt stiff or soft.
Instead, he stepped off the curb and threw his arm up. He wasn’t the only one. Despite the subway station nearby, people wanted cabs, preferably with air-conditioning.
A brush of fingers on his bare arm startled him. He leaned toward her so he could hear her against all the traffic noise.
“Sorry,” she said.
He dropped his arm. “Oh—”
“No, not like that. I was going to say something, but I lost the thread. It’ll come back to me.”
“Sure. Okay.”
She smiled. Then she lifted her arm as she turned her attention to the stream of traffic. Not five seconds later, a yellow taxi stopped.
Inside, the cab smelled fresh and felt cool. Molly gave the driver her address, and they both settled in the back, close but not touching.
“I noticed you do a lot of teaching,” he said, hoping to recapture the mood f
rom dinner. “Have you ever done that on a wine-tasting cruise?”
Her short laugh was answer enough. “What made you think of that?”
“I saw a commercial. Seven days to Paris and Normandy. It showed a table full of guests with five or six glasses of wine in front of them. It sounded great...until I thought of rough seas.”
Molly coughed and laughed at the same time, and he thought she might even be choking. All he could do was pat her back until she held up her hand to stop him. She took a couple of deep, clear breaths before she sat back and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“That was horrible,” she said.
“I have no excuse. It was wine related, and my mind just went there, and I can’t do anything but apologize.”
“I don’t think one apology is nearly enough.” She shivered. “God, what a picture.”
But instead of telling the cabbie to pull over so she could shove him out the door, she giggled. That same light-as-air laugh that he’d heard in the restaurant. For his next trick, he hoped to inspire another wide grin.
“I thought this would be the easiest date in the history of dates,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“In some ways, it has been.” She was staring intently at him. The humor of a minute ago had been replaced with a hint of confusion that Cam didn’t understand.
“And not just because of our jobs. Okay, some of it is because of our similar careers, but there was—”
“A connection.”
“Yeah.”
He’d moved closer to her when she was coughing. His thigh pressed against hers, the top of his arm touched her shoulder. Her eyes widened as he leaned in to press his lips against hers.
She gasped.
He didn’t move or breathe.
Until she made it a kiss.
* * *
MOLLY INHALED THE SCENT of toasty-rich caramel malt layered with a hint of citrus and spice as she brushed her lips against Cam’s. With her eyes closed it was easy to concentrate on the aromas as they spread across the length of her soft palate. But it would take more than scent to reveal the man underneath. At least the air-conditioning wasn’t so loud that it blocked the sound of his breath, the click of his swallow.
He pressed forward, opening her mouth, eager for more, but her hand on his jaw slowed him down long enough for her to run the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip.
She’d studied his mouth in the restaurant. Not in a creepy way, but that plump bottom lip of his was very enticing. He tasted lightly sweet.
He moaned when she slid her tongue past his teeth to where the echo of hops and grains was strongest, but when he pressed back, her train of thought snapped and all she could do was surrender to the far more primal thrust and parry.
This was exactly what she’d hoped for. To find a man to turn off her brain, let her forget the mountain of work that waited on the other side of her front door, the pressure to find time, any kind of time, to sleep without her to-do list jolting her awake.
The way he kissed her, firm and hungry and sure, promised a fantastic vacation of a night, the kind she would remember for weeks when she needed a coma-inducing orgasm after a stressful day.
His hand, large and warm, roamed down her back as he pulled away from the kiss, only to tilt his head to the right, finding an angle that let him pull her body tight against his chest.
The cab’s sharp turn parted them too soon.
“You okay?”
Cameron had whispered the words as he stared without blinking. His breathing had morphed into rapid panting, as if he’d run a great distance. She liked knowing that she’d done that to him.
“Good.”
She closed her eyes seconds before he kissed her again. They were both leaning now, and in this position she felt smaller. She was normally an expert at making herself disappear in uncomfortable situations, but this was entirely different. Cam was tall. Six-two? Six-three? With his broad chest pressing against her front and his big hands on her back, she felt petite. And petite felt safe. At least with Cameron.
She couldn’t hold back a whimper when he stopped, but instead of pulling away his lips went to the sensitive spot behind her ear. He nibbled at her skin, giving her goose bumps, and when he took her earlobe between his teeth, she trembled.
“We need to give the driver a very big tip,” she said, her voice high and airy and not like her at all.
“I’ll double it if she slows down.” He continued kissing her, prompting more whimpers and breathy moans from her, louder now.
Loud enough, evidently.
The taxi decelerated as Molly’s heart sped up.
Even if they slowed to a crawl, they were going to get to her place eventually. Tonight could be perfect. Seriously perfect. She even had a bottle of Pinot chilling in the fridge and a new box of condoms in the bathroom cabinet.
God. His hand. His left hand. It wasn’t on her back anymore. It was on her breast. Not under her blouse or bra, just resting on top. Way more casual than his rush back to her lips.
For a few seconds, the thrill of the kiss sidetracked her, but then they went over a bump and her hard, sensitive nipple felt the pressure of his hand.
Still. His hand was still. Not squeezing, not doing much of anything. Needing more, she arched her torso.
“There we go,” he whispered. “That’s what I was waiting for.”
“Why?” she asked, seconds before he stole her ability to speak. Not just with his mouth, but the way he touched her. A slow squeeze followed by just his palm circling the tip of her nipple.
The goose bumps came back. Shivers arrived with his low groan.
She caught a peek of orange sky as they stopped, but it was a red light, not home base.
Picturing him in her minuscule apartment made her remember the dress that was hanging in her closet, still covered in plastic. She’d spent too much money on it, even though it was secondhand. But it was for a very special occasion, and as much as Cameron’s kisses had reminded her how much she wanted to have mind-boggling sex with him, it was much more important to her to have him escort her to the awards banquet.
But how could she stop this runaway train of sexual exploration? It would be horrible to put the brakes on now.
It wasn’t that she felt obligated to have sex with him, even when they were both this aroused. She wanted him. He wanted her. Ever since the first touch of his lips, her body had been giving her an enthusiastic green light. On the other hand... As the cab inched into traffic, Molly pulled back. Not away, not like that, but enough.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked.
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed. “Uh...”
“I mean, it’s something. But nothing’s technically wrong.”
His left hand dropped away as he sat up, helping her up as he did so. Which was just more proof that he’d be the most perfect date ever for one of the most important nights of her life. Since her neighbor Eddie had moved to Ohio, she didn’t have anyone she could count on to be her plus-one.
“Molly?”
When she met Cam’s gaze, her uncertainty grew. They were just two blocks away from her place now, and dammit, she wasn’t sure.
She wanted to be sure.
Especially because he’d made it very clear he had one goal in mind, and if they both went upstairs, he’d get his wish and walk away. And while she’d be left sexually satisfied, she would lose a golden opportunity. Getting the award, making the speech, being in the company of so many people she admired terrified her.
Her only option was to move the goal line.
Fully aware that she was being manipulative and selfish, she plunged ahead. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I know my timing is terrible, but please, could I have a rain check?”
His shocked expression almost convinced her to change her mind.
“I have to admit I was not expecting that,” he said. “Did I get my signals crossed?”
“No. Everything you did was great. Perfect. I didn’t know until just now that I wasn’t sure. About the rest of it. About moving so fast. This has been a fantastic night, but...”
“You need to be certain.”
She nodded.
He looked at her with his dark eyes. “Okay. Rain check it is.”
Her sigh didn’t ease her guilt, but it did help her relax enough to grab her purse. “I’ll call you,” she said, just as they turned onto her block. “Soon. Very soon. I hope you’ll want to see me again.”
Cam leaned over and kissed her. Lightly. On the lips, and then on her cheek. “I had a great time,” he said. “Almost all the way to the end.”
She winced, even though he was teasing. “Thank you.” She found his hand and squeezed it before she opened her purse to pull out her wallet. “I’m sorry about the coffee.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, stopping her from getting money out. “Can you wait for me?” he asked the cabbie. “Five minutes?”
“I’m on the clock. Take your time.”
“You don’t need to walk me up,” Molly said. “Honestly. I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. I’ve only got a few steps to go before I’m inside.”
Nodding, he got out of the cab and held his hand out to help her. Once they were standing on the sidewalk, she had the urge to ask him up anyway, but she held back. She wanted him to be the perfect ending to her big awards night. Then, when they said their goodbyes, she’d have no regrets at all.
* * *
THE RIDE BACK to Manhattan was as surreal as it was uncomfortable. Cam had been completely blindsided by Molly’s request. The conversation had been stellar. She was amazing to touch, to kiss, and the way she’d kissed him back—