Easy Ride

by Suzanne Ruby

  “Do you come here often?” she asked.

  “Apparently not often enough,” he said, then shot her a wink and a smile. “Actually, Fabian and I work out next door at Six-Pax. Just got through, as a matter of fact.”

  She grinned at how beautifully her plan to run into Fabian had failed so miserably.

  “That’s a relief. I was worried you’d come here specifically to stalk me, since you couldn’t stop thinking about me and all.” She nudged his arm to indicate she wasn’t serious.

  “You’d know if I were. I don’t hide behind salad displays. I’m more of a get-straight-to-the-point kind of stalker. Seeing you again was a nice bonus.”

  “Likewise. So, what’s on your shopping list?” she asked.

  He stopped the cart, bit his bottom lip and looked at her. As if he needed something personal. Something unmentionable.

  Condoms.

  “Toothpaste,” he finally said.

  She pointed toward the far end of the store. Together, they guided their mutual cart.

  If she hadn’t managed to brush her teeth before coming to the store, she might’ve thought their destination was a not-so-subtle hint.

  Adam forced the basket to a halt in front of the toothbrushes.

  “Soft, medium or hard?” he asked.

  She pushed back the erotic image he had provoked with the final word, then swallowed. Hard.

  “What?”

  “I’m buying a toothbrush for you to keep at my place in case you take me up on my offer to cook dinner for you. Tonight, if you’re available.”

  “Oh.”

  What she felt like saying was, this was moving awfully fast. It felt as rocky and disjointed as the mutant wheel of her abandoned shopping cart. He hadn’t lied about being a straight-to-the-point sort of guy.

  He shook his head and looked at the floor in blatant embarrassment. She wished she hadn’t sounded so underwhelmed.

  “I don’t mean to pressure you or put you on the spot,” he said as he looked up. “But I’d like to see you again, outside of the club. Maybe this was a corny way to approach the subject, but I hadn’t expected to run into you.”

  “Are you saying your dialogue is usually scripted?” She softened the accusation with a smile.

  A quivering, nervous smile. It had been so long since a man pursued her like this. Much less a drop-dead gorgeous man.

  “Not usually. Am I being too direct? I can still be your shoulder to cry on, if that’s what you want or need.”

  If you only knew.

  Then again, there was no way to really know someone without a time investment. And, if she didn’t take a chance every now and again, she’d miss out on everything. And everyone.

  “Look, Kirby, what happened between us at the club was unprofessional on my part. I’ve never done that with a client, unlike some of the other guys. I mean, the stories those sofas could tell...”

  His confession might as well have been a slap upside her dreamy little head. She’d momentarily forgotten what those guys must be doing for a living, much less what she needed to do to earn hers.

  Yet, a part of her needed to mend her broken past above all else. So much so, she was willing to put herself into the hands of this total stranger. Besides, he didn’t strike her as the serious type, which would definitely complicate things. But getting to know him even a little better might lead to some revelations about the club that she wouldn’t be able to get inside those protected walls.

  He was patient, if anything. He gave her time to think.

  No pressure, like he promised. Nothing but an impromptu invitation into his home for dinner. And a place to hang her toothbrush.

  “Soft,” she said. “I like my toothbrush soft.”

  He turned and picked out a pink one with soft bristles. With a raise of one eyebrow, he officially popped the question.

  And with a nod of her head, she answered.

  * * *

  SOFT.

  Like her lips, her hair, her skin.

  Had he really done this? Something so utterly corny and bold with a woman he barely knew?

  Apparently so. It was as if he couldn’t help himself. It had been so long since he’d felt an attraction for anyone, much less one so intense and unexpected.

  Adam tossed the toothbrush into the cart, alongside her feminine products, puppy food and melting ice cream.

  “Is there anything else you need?” she asked.

  “Can’t think of a thing.”

  Except, yeah, he needed something. But ravaging her luscious body in a grocery store wasn’t an option. So, together, they headed toward the checkout line.

  As they walked, he thought about how she’d tried to book another session. He couldn’t let that happen. It came down to more than his desire to see her again. This was about professional preservation and adhering to the club’s cardinal rule. The way she’d said the word soft had turned him anything but. This one, he was powerless against.

  Didn’t hurt that his grandfather had met his own wife in a grocery store. How they both reached for the same head of iceberg lettuce and it felt as though he’d been pulled under by the strongest current. And how the whole thing spurred a request for a date within minutes, and a marriage proposal within weeks.

  True love can happen that fast, and in the strangest of places, even though what he felt at the moment wasn’t love. But if there was one takeaway from his grandfather’s schmaltzy story, it was to never go into a relationship with preconceived notions of how it should begin.

  If this thing with Kirby progressed, his story would unspool much differently than his grandfather’s. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to repeat it to Henry in its entirety. The part about meeting in the lettuce section, however, was a definite keeper.

  What the hell?

  Where had those thoughts come from? Next thing, he’d be visualizing how she’d look walking down the church aisle, rather than the grocery aisle.

  Adam dismissed the ridiculous train of thought and began stacking their groceries on the conveyer belt.

  She reached into her purse.

  “I’ve got this,” he said as he placed a hand over hers.

  He’d do anything to stack the odds in his favor. Not that he wanted her to feel obligated to him in any way.

  Well, maybe a little.

  “I can’t let you pay.”

  “Sure you can. You have only a couple of items. I’ll hold the ice cream for ransom. That way, if you back out, I’ll have it to console me.”

  Then again, if she did follow through on his invite, what would he cook for dinner? Not exactly his finest skill, although he could grill a steak like nobody’s business.

  Adam helped the sacker further separate his items from Kirby’s. It had been a while since he’d handled a pink box for a woman. She didn’t seem entirely comfortable about it, which he found charming. He practically sensed her discomfort as he peeled off some bills to pay for everything.

  Last thing he wanted to do was come across as a controlling son of a bitch, but he wanted to do this. Still, there was a fine line between chivalry and sexism these days. In fact, the line was invisible to him, so his other senses had to navigate.

  He walked Kirby to her car, and challenged the invisible line once again by opening the car door for her.

  She tossed her grocery bag in the back seat, then leaned against the side of the car.

  He closed the space between them, slipped his hands beneath her orange jersey and rested his palms on her hips, allowing his thumbs to cop a feel of her warm skin.

  She looked even lovelier in the daylight without makeup. He easily imagined how her unleashed hair would look against his pillowcase, first thing in the morning. At the thought of how he might actually get to find out, his coc
k twitched and he felt the damn thing growing hard.

  He glanced around the parking lot. Other people kept busy leading their own lives. Not that he would mind if anyone happened to see them standing this close, like lovers.

  Her breathing seemed to deepen as she ran her hands up his arms, caressing him with the softest velvet skin known to man. She lifted the edge of his sleeve and studied his tattoo. Her touch soothed the residual humiliation.

  “I’d love to know the story behind this,” she said.

  He winced. That conversation would definitely have to be scripted.

  Or, maybe not. He wanted to know more about her. If this unexpected relationship lasted beyond tomorrow morning, he’d pursue full disclosure.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you when I pick you up tonight.”

  Her breath audibly hitched when he pressed into her a little deeper.

  “I’d rather drive to your place,” she said.

  Adam would ordinarily assume he’d crossed the invisible line, if it weren’t for the way she pressed into him as she spoke.

  A slight breeze blew a loose strand of hair across her eyes, and she tried to blink it away.

  He reached up, brushed it out of her face and tucked the stray strand behind her ear.

  “Any special meaning?” he asked as he touched the silver horseshoe adorning only one of her lobes.

  “It’s supposed to bring good luck. Seems to be working.”

  He wasn’t about to disagree.

  “Would you have even more luck if you wore both of them?” Although, he wasn’t sure how much better it could get, at least for him.

  She felt the bare lobe.

  “Oh. I always forget to take these off at night. The other one is probably on top of the pillow. I’ll try to be fully accessorized tonight. When I drive to your place.”

  He noticed a faint splattering of freckles across her nose, and the familiar soap-and-water freshness of her skin.

  Of course she’d want a way to leave. Hell, whenever he had a daughter, he hoped she’d use a little common sense about such things. And he sure wouldn’t raise a son who violated women’s boundaries.

  “Understood,” he said. “But this might change your mind. I live on the outskirts of town.”

  “You can check my tires first. What’s your address? I’ll leave a copy of the info at home in case I go missing.”

  “I’ll give you my address when you give me your phone number.” He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, typed in her name and handed the phone to her.

  He studied her face as she punched. And punched.

  She bit her bottom lip, smiled with her eyes and handed the phone back to him.

  He pressed into her again and went in for a kiss to seal the deal.

  She allowed his lips and tongue to explore her own before she returned the favor. After a few glorious moments, they relaxed into a loose embrace.

  For him, it was the best kiss so far. Liv hadn’t exactly spoiled him when it came to public displays of affection in any form. And he was a big fan of PDA.

  To be fair, Liv had been more than affectionate behind closed doors. Problem was, she was also affectionate behind other men’s doors.

  But that was the past. What was happening right now was exactly what he needed.

  Judging by the way Kirby ran her hands down his back and leaned forward for a full-body embrace, the PDA was good for her.

  At least he hoped it was because he was trying to stack the odds even more in his favor, all the while knowing that this kiss could be their last.

  It hadn’t been lost on him how she hesitated when he’d handed her his phone, and even re-input her own number with slow, deliberate strokes. Then, she seemed to delete part of it and input a different number.

  Question was, had Kirby changed it to the correct number, or was she giving him a fake one?

  5

  KIRBY’S GOOFY SMILE must have looked beyond crazed. Both her cheeks ached from the nonstop strain of unbridled happiness. Adam had put the smile there with his embrace, his kisses, the invitation to dinner at his house.

  Baby’s enthusiastic greeting pushed her smile to even more extremes the moment she walked into her loft.

  Lady simply inventoried the ridiculous scene from a window ledge across the room, then turned her feline attention to the cacophony of traffic on the midtown street below.

  Kirby poured some Puppy Chow into a bowl and placed it on the ground.

  “Here you go.”

  Baby ravaged the offering. Her little tail wagged so hard it made her whole backside move back and forth like a manic metronome.

  “Now. Finally. My turn.”

  Except, wait, she’d forgotten the most important item. The coffee.

  She’d been totally distracted. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel the least bit tired anymore. Maybe Adam could replace her caffeine addiction.

  Or create a whole new one.

  A wave of warmth oozed across her skin at the thought of those baby blue eyes taking their time with her. Savoring her. Deepening to a slightly darker hue after kissing her. Watching her input her phone number, then punch it in again. Out of nervousness, she’d transposed two digits and had to start over.

  Her number was now on his phone, she was reasonably sure of it. This gorgeous man with an equally gorgeous hard-on for her had her number.

  Desire tugged at her core as she recalled the way his hardness felt against her thin yoga pants, hitting the most sensitive spot as he so effortlessly seemed to do. In between carnal thoughts, she wrestled with the reality of what he did for a living, and how he seemed to be hiding something else.

  The tattoo on his biceps? Clearly a correction or cover-up, based on how the tangled threads of ink within the horse’s mane looked slightly darker in the light, as if they didn’t belong.

  She reached into the shower and turned the knob to hot.

  For the first time in a long time, she watched herself undress. Her clothes hadn’t been deceiving. She had shed a few pounds without even trying.

  Stress. The best weight-loss pill she’d ever swallowed.

  Yet, Adam hinted that he liked her curves. His body didn’t lie the first time, or this last time.

  The bittersweetness of it caught in her throat as she struggled to accept this as a valid truth. She was still sexy, despite how her failed marriage had made her feel.

  No sooner had she lathered up her hair than her cell phone rang.

  Tingles two-stepped across her flesh at the prospect of him calling so soon. The dance was swept along by rivulets of warm water as she rinsed out the shampoo.

  “Please, please, please be Adam,” she whispered as she applied deep conditioner to her hair.

  Clearly, some of the sentiments he had expressed in the club were for real. He was under no obligation to see her outside work. Much less buy and keep a toothbrush for her at his house. He’d even insisted on paying for her groceries. Aside from her father, no man had ever done that. In fact, quite the opposite.

  Three minutes later, she couldn’t endure the suspense any longer, so she rinsed the deep conditioner from her hair.

  She dried off, wrapped her hair in the same towel and walked naked across the room to hopefully find a voice mail from Adam. She even managed to add a little sway. It had been a long time since she felt capable, much less worthy, of such a seductive movement.

  The missed number looked vaguely familiar. The caller hadn’t left a message. She should have insisted he give her his number again, as well.

  No sooner had she thought this, than another call came in from the same number.

  Answer it...

  “This is Kirby.”

  “Hey. I’m glad you picked up.”

  The voice s
ounded a bit too high to be Adam.

  It could be the reception. Besides, who else would be saying such things? It wasn’t as if men were beating down her door.

  “I’m glad I picked up, too,” she said.

  Nothing but a strange, singular chuckle on the other end.

  Maybe she hadn’t immediately recognized her ex-husband’s voice, but his bravado was unmistakable.

  “What do you want, Tim? I’m busy.”

  “Too busy to talk to me for one minute?”

  It was her turn to chuckle. Why was she even still on the line?

  “I didn’t call to fight,” he said. “I want to tell you something before you hear it elsewhere.”

  “What? You’ve got a terminal illness? I’ll break out the Dom Pérignon.”

  “I deserve that. I wasn’t the best husband.”

  “Talk about an understatement.”

  “Yeah. I know. But I’ve changed. I got some therapy, like you always wanted me to do.”

  The air conditioner kicked on, and she didn’t have so much as a towel to protect her. Every inch of her flesh goose-bumped and her teeth were on the verge of chattering.

  This was the last thing she needed. He’d tried to get back together twice already but refused couples’ therapy each time. The damage was done, and he had never been man enough to undo it. Until now, apparently.

  But she’d made the mistake of trusting him once. She’d made the stupid, stupid, stupid decision to turn down a golden investigative journalist opportunity in Chicago and follow him to Texas instead, only to have him turn her down. Financially. Emotionally.

  Physically.

  Besides, she was finally getting the sexual validation that her ex-husband had denied her.

  “I’m sorry, Tim. I’m not willing to give us another chance. I’ve met someone.”

  The long pause that followed was supremely gratifying.

  “Wow. Kirby. Awesome news. I’m happy for you.”

  Funny. She didn’t note any sarcasm in his voice. And he had quite the capacity for it.

  “I’m happy, too.”

  It was the truth. The thought of seeing Adam again sent flurries of pleasure straight down to her naked sex, even though Tim’s voice battled to take them away.