Valentine's Day at the Corral

by Debra St. John

  Double damn. Busted. Now she was in for the third degree, and she hadn’t even had a real date with Scott yet. Sigh.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m sorry for the third degree from Mom,” Gail said to Scott while they waited in the hallway for Mom to exit the restroom.

  Scott smiled down at her. “No apologies necessary. I like her. She comes right out and says what’s on her mind.”

  Gail loved that she had to tilt her head to return his gaze. “She sure does.” She bit her lip and looked away. If only Pam hadn’t interrupted before Scott answered Mom’s question about an ex wife. How in the world could she bring it up again…casually?

  “Hey.” Scott lifted her chin with his index finger. “Why so serious all of a sudden?” He must have read something in her expression, because his voice deepened with concern. “Gail, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I…” How could she explain the sudden all-consuming bout of insecurity?

  The bathroom door opened. Gail took a step away. Scott’s hand fell to his side. The worry in his eyes lingered.

  Mom’s walker preceded her out. “Okay, I called Hilda while I was in there.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s coming to pick me up so you kids can enjoy the rest of your evening without an old lady along for the ride.”

  “Oh, no, Mom, you didn’t—”

  Scott chuckled. “Ah, Mrs. Robbins. I see I was missing a very important ally these past few weeks. If only I would have had you on my side, maybe your daughter would have agreed to go out with me sooner.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “It was a great pleasure meeting you.”

  Gail’s eyes popped wide. Mom wore a self-satisfied smirk.

  After making sure Mom was settled in Hilda’s car, Scott turned to her. “So.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to stick around here or go someplace more private? I can almost see the thoughts spinning in your head, so I’m guessing our conversation is going to be a little more intense than you apologizing for your mom’s curiosity again.”

  Gail opened her mouth to tell him staying there was fine. “Someplace more private. We need to talk.” Gad. Her mouth had a mind of its own. But before things went any further with him, even if it was just dinner at a nice restaurant, she needed some answers to the endless whirl of questions chasing each other around in her head like the swirling wind scattering her hair.

  He nodded. “That’s what I thought. So, where to?”

  Good question. The Corral and Bubba’s were too public. Her place or his was too private. She eyed his suit jacket, the only barrier between him and the chilly air. “How cold are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “We could walk to Bubba’s to grab coffee and go sit in the park.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I have a coat in the car.”

  After donning the long, wool garment he grabbed her hand. Instantly the winter chill lost its bite, although the chaos in her head remained. Where had all this anxiety come from? She’d enjoyed their flirtatious banter. His Valentine notes left a soft, squishy feeling in her heart. And she was this close to saying yes to his dinner invitation, because she hadn’t lied when she checked the yes box today. She really did like him.

  Maybe that was the problem. She’d liked other guys before too. And where had that led? Bingo. Abso-freakin-lutely nowhere. So why lay her heart on the line again? Especially when things were stacked against them from the start. He was her boss, and it was never a good idea to mix business and pleasure. If he stopped being her boss, instead of solving the problem it would mean he was moving back to New York.

  And he really wasn’t her type. They had virtually nothing in common. So other than the obvious physical attraction, why did she like him?

  He was kind. Sincere. Polite. A gentleman. Hardworking. He’d left an entire life behind out of loyalty to his family. Plus he was walking beside her in silence letting her mull through things in her head, giving her the space she needed to think before they sat down to talk. Add considerate to the list.

  Almost as if answering her thoughts, Scott squeezed her hand and smiled. Which brought them back to physical attraction. His smile made her insides go all mushy. Her hand in his sent warm tingles up her arm and through the rest of her body. When she checked out his oh-so-fine derriere, she wanted to do bad things with him.

  Okay, so he didn’t wear cowboy boots and jeans. So what? Maybe she’d been too focused on outward appearances all this time. With her rearranged parameters, all she had to do was get rid of this rampant insecurity and say yes to dinner.

  Ten minutes later Gail blew across the top of a steaming cup of caramel mocha coffee. She inhaled. The comforting aroma gave her courage. She crooked a knee onto the bench and turned to face Scott. Add patient. With each passing second the list of likes was getting longer.

  “You probably think I’m a raving lunatic all of a sudden, don’t you?”

  “No, not at all. I am curious, though. You seem…unsure…more than before.”

  Wow. Mind reader. “I’m just a little curious. When Mom was asking you all those questions, you never answered one.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “You’ll have to remind me which one.” Even in the shadow of evening, his eyes twinkled.

  “I know. I’m sorry. The sheer volume was like playing Twenty Questions to the nth degree.”

  “Your mom isn’t afraid to speak her mind. I admire that. Now quit stalling and ask your question so I can answer it.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “No.”

  “Did you leave a girlfriend behind in New York?” One question rolled into the next. Like mother like daughter.

  “No. It’s been a while since I’ve had a girlfriend.”

  “Really?”

  “Do you think I’m lying?” His tone was light, his expression serious.

  “No. I just find it hard to believe you’re single.”

  “Why?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  “Look at you.” She fluttered her hand in his direction. “You’re like the green-eyed version of Pierce Brosnan’s James Bond. Without the accent.” And a nicer ass.

  His voice lowered. “Does that mean you think I’m good looking?”

  Duh. “What warm blooded female wouldn’t?”

  He traced a finger down her cheek. Despite the cold, a heated flush crept across her skin. “Ah, definitely warm blooded.” His intense gaze remained locked with hers. “You know…” His husky, sexy voice made her toes curl. “I’m warm blooded, too. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  “See? That’s what doesn’t make any sense. I don’t seem like your type.”

  “Back to types again, are we?”

  “I just wondered why you want to go out with someone like me.”

  He shook his head. A small smile played on his lips. What would they feel like curved against her own? “I don’t want to go out with someone like you. I want to go out with you. Only you.”

  Gail bit her lip, hard, to stop herself from being so pathetic as to ask why.

  But once again, he read her mind. “You want to know what my type is? I’ll tell you. Someone who’s kind. Gentle. Hardworking. Responsible. Caring. Sincere. And so damn pretty I could spend hours just staring into her deep, brown expressive eyes.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “At least when I wasn’t wondering if her lips were as kissable as they look.”

  Gail sat frozen. It was a wonder the heavy thumps of her heart couldn’t been seen even through her winter coat. Moisture pricked her eyes. She swallowed.

  Scott took the cup from her trembling fingers. He set it alongside his on the ground. “I was going to wait until after our first official date…” He framed her face in his hands. They were cool against her flaming cheeks. “But I can’t help myself.” He brushed his lips across hers. Softly, tenderly, he stroked with exquisite perfection.

  She sighed and their breath mated. He increase
d the pressure, still gentle, but more demanding. Her lips parted so his tongue could slip inside and tease the tip of hers.

  A shock rippled through her, leaving languid, bone liquefying pleasure in its wake. She shifted, wanting, aching to get closer, but the awkward position of her knee between them on the bench frustrated her effort.

  Without breaking the kiss, Scott slid one arm beneath her legs and shifted her so she sat across his lap. Ah, that was more like it. Gail wound her arms around his neck, pressing closer so they were chest to chest, and answered the erotic thrust of his tongue, where the earthy, bitter taste of coffee lingered.

  Strong fingers threaded through the hair at her nape. The other arm slipped around her waist, urging her closer, as if trying to melt the barrier made by the layers of coats and jackets and clothing between them.

  After a sensual haze of long, dizzy, sensual minutes—or was it hours?—of bliss, he gentled the kiss. Brushed one more soft stroke across her lips, then pulled away. Their breath puffed out in visible clouds, mingling in the cold night air.

  “Even better than I imagined,” he whispered.

  Gail snuggled into his shoulder, inhaling the crisp scent of the wind mingling with his cologne on the collar of his coat. The shivers trembling through her had nothing to do with the chill and everything to do with the man holding her close.

  Scott smoothed his hand up and down her back. She slid her fingers into his coat and beneath the lapel of his suit jacket to rest over his heart. The rhythm gradually slowed beneath her palm. She stroked the firm muscle beneath the crisp cotton. What would he look like without a shirt?

  Ten to one he had washboard abs to go with the well-defined pecs beneath her questing fingers. And that got her heart rate going again.

  He kissed the top of her head. “So does this mean you’ll be my Valentine?”

  Gail pulled back just enough to be able to see his eyes. “Definitely.”

  Chapter Six

  Gail stood in open-mouthed astonishment. Her desk was barely visible beneath the enormous bouquet perched on the ledge of the front divider. Two-dozen red roses interspersed with pink tulips, white baby’s breath, and lacy fern fronds overflowed the cut glass vase. A smaller ceramic container of violets sat to the side.

  The strap of her purse slipped through limp fingers to hit the floor with a soft thud. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth. W.O.W.

  White parchment peeked from the midst of the arrangement. Her heart sped as she unfolded the note.

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  Sugar tastes sweet

  And so do you

  I can’t wait to taste you again. But first things first. I’ll pick you up for dinner at 6:00. Happy Valentine’s Day.

  Scott

  She clutched the sweet—and at the same time erotic—note to her chest. Visions of all the different ways they could taste each other danced through her head. Her eyesight blurred while her pulse raced and goosebumps peppered her flesh.

  Gail blinked the reception area into focus again. Crap. It was going to be a long day.

  “Oh. My. God.” Sandy stood just inside the front door. Her eyes wide and her mouth open. Probably a mirror of what Gail had looked like five minutes ago. She waddled over to sniff a rose, then wagged a finger at Gail. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “No, just bringing some Valentine’s Day cheer into the office.” She and Scott hadn’t talked about how public to make their romance. How in the world would she keep it incognito in light of the ginormous display of flowers?

  Sandy snorted. “Yeah. Right. I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.” She pointed to the bouquet. “That is not a holiday decoration. That is a gift from a man trying to score big points for Valentine’s Day.”

  Big points indeed. Hat trick. Homerun. Sudden death touchdown. He’d earned it. Enough so that he might get lucky and score again tonight. Gail’s mind did a vaudeville eyebrow waggle as her libido fired up.

  “So, who is he? Let me guess. You met him at The Corral.”

  Gail avoided her friend’s curious stare and picked up her purse and walked around to her desk. Although beautiful, the flowers were going to be a logistical problem. She couldn’t see around them. She eased the vase to one side of the counter. Better.

  Sandy put her hand on her hips, which pushed her rounded belly even further forward. “Stop stalling. Spill.”

  “It’s…new. Until we figure out where things are going…” And if he was going to sell the company and head back to New York. “I’d rather keep it under wraps.” Could she sound more like a B detective film?

  Sandy sighed and pouted. “Fine. I understand.” She eyed the arrangement again. “The beginning of a relationship is always so romantic. The best I can hope for tonight is Tim will bring home fast food so I don’t have to cook. Based on those flowers, you’re heading out somewhere really nice tonight, right?”

  Where was Scott taking her? He hadn’t said, but she bet good money it wouldn’t be The Corral. The Corral would be fine with her, but Scott had a very different idea of nice. And you know what? She was more than okay with that. Might as well embrace the whole expanding her horizons thing.

  ****

  After dinner at Scott’s extremely nice, complete with the promised white linen tablecloths, crystal champagne flutes, and tuxedoed waiters, restaurant, streetlights flashed through the car windows as they headed back to town.

  Conversation on the way to dinner and all through dinner had been easy. She’d learned Scott’s mom was Al Thompson’s sister. She and his dad had retired to rural New York, a couple of hours outside the city. His sister, Carol, had met her husband at one of her very own speed dating matchmaking events. Gail told him about when her dad passed away and how a recent fall resulting in a fractured hip had led to not only Mom’s use of the walker, but a complete renovation of her home. He told her what it was like growing up in a big city, and she told him what it was like growing up in a small town.

  Yep. They’d chatted about anything and everything. Easily. Comfortably. The more she got to know him, the more it seemed like she’d known him for years. The more she learned, the more she liked. She was falling hard and fast for a man with an uncertain future.

  Uncertainty wasn’t the only thing keeping her mute, though. Oh, no sir. What really put an end to the casual conversation was the tension, wholly sexual, permeating every inch of Scott’s German imported luxury sedan. All she could think about was being wrapped in his arms, tangled in the sheets of his bed or her bed, with nothing between them. Skin on skin. She squirmed in the supple leather seat.

  Surely he could feel it too. So when he dropped her off, he’d ask to come in. Right? If he didn’t, would she be bold enough to offer the invitation?

  The tension notched higher as they pulled into town. Scott slowed at a light. “Do you need to get home or do you want to come to my place for a glass of wine?”

  Thank God. Wine. Always a good precursor to something more. Something intimate. “I’d like that.”

  He squeezed her hand. Gad. If she didn’t get him naked soon she was likely to spontaneously combust and scorch the interior of his fancy car.

  Scott pulled into the drive of a surprisingly traditional ranch house. After helping her from the car, always the gentleman, he led her down a brick paved path to the front of the house. Landscape spotlights shone on shrubbery on each side of the three steps leading to a low porch. Beside the door an urn held a well-manicured barberry bush.

  Gail blinked in surprise when she stepped into the entryway. The inside was the antithesis of the out. A dark gray sectional, all angles and sharp lines, sat in the middle of the living room. A glass and chrome coffee table sat on a black and gray geometric pattered rug in front of it. A white glass-fronted cabinet stood in one corner and held bottles and vases in hues of turquoise green and ivory. The walls were painted a subtle gray-green. Just beyond the living room, a white table with plain, straight back cha
irs sat outside a kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and speckled soapstone counters.

  Nothing in the entire open floor plan was anything Gail would ever choose to decorate her home. Too modern for her taste. At the same time, she could totally see herself living there. With Scott. Because the house was a perfect blend of him and her. The traditional outside and the urban-decorated inside came together harmoniously, the differences accenting, rather than taking away.

  Whoa. Slow down. They’d had one official date and one curl-her-toes kiss and she had them moving in together?

  Scott motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll bring the wine. Chardonnay or merlot?”

  “Merlot, please.” Had to go with red on Valentine’s Day. Although the wine, for her at least, was just an excuse.

  Scott handed her a stemless glass and sat beside her. Not quite touching, but close enough to notch the tension higher. She swirled the wine. It clung to the side of the glass. She took a sip. The dry, smooth flavor slid over her tongue and down her throat.

  She set the glass on the coffee table. “I didn’t really come in for wine.” Had she ever been so bold before? But she knew what she wanted. When you finally found someone you’ve been waiting your whole life for, there was no reason to be coy.

  The dark burn in Scott’s eyes made Gail’s insides tremble. He set down his glass. His kiss started at carnal and ratcheted up from there. Soon their harsh, heavy breaths filled the room. Together. Combined. Just how it should be. His arms pulled her close, and she gloried in being near without thick, winter coats between them. She banded her hands beneath his suit jacket and reveled in the firm muscles of his back beneath her questing fingers. Through the silk of her dress, he brushed a thumb across her nipple, bringing it to instant, aching awareness.

  They were still wearing too many clothes. Wanting, desperately needing, his bare skin against hers, she guided his hand into the V of the neckline. He needed no further urging, but cupped the weight of her breast in his palm. When he feathered his fingers across the distended peak, an answering flicker zinged between her thighs.