Too Smart For Marriage

by Cathie Linz

  “Hey, you two!” a male voice shouted. “No making out in the park.”

  David winced as Anastasia scrambled off his painfully hard body. Damn, she’d be the death of him yet!

  “It’s the police,” she whispered in a scandalized voice.

  “You heard me, you two. Take it someplace else.” As the officer got closer, he said, “Geez, you’re both old enough to know better.” Pausing a moment, he said, “Hey, Sullivan, is that you?”

  David groaned. Out of all the officers in all the suburbs, he had to be stopped by Abe Carver, who’d attended the same arson investigation conference that David had back in August—before Anastasia had knocked him off his feet, literally and figuratively.

  “Hey, man, I heard you were on a leave of absence, but I had no idea it was so you could make out in the park,” Abe said, pounding David on the back with a macho enthusiasm shared by sports figures and cops. “Must be a tough life.”

  “Right,” David replied through gritted teeth and a false smile. “We were just leaving.”

  “I’ll have you know that I never blushed until I met you,” Anastasia had the nerve to tell him once they were back in the Triumph.

  “You? What about me?”

  “You were blushing?” She eyed him carefully as if looking for any remaining signs.

  “I’m not the type to get caught necking in a public park,” he loftily informed her.

  “Meaning, I am? Listen—” turning in her seat, she jabbed her index finger in his chest “—I may be unconventional about some things, but I…”

  “But you what?”

  “I like the way you kiss.” Her right hand flew to her mouth as if to stop the words from coming out, but it was too late. Ruefully she added, “I wasn’t going to say that. It just slipped out. Forget it.”

  As if forgetting one solitary thing about Anastasia was even remotely possible. David sincerely doubted that it was.

  THE FEW REMAINING days before The Big Dipper’s grand opening raced by in a flurry of activity, which was topped off by Ira giving Claire three dozen yellow roses and a kiss at the ribbon-cutting ceremony as the ice-cream parlor officially opened for business. The four-day-long celebration was a successful one, thanks in part to Heather mentioning The Big Dipper on her radio talk show. A number of customers who came in said they were fans of “Love on the Rocks: Where Relationships are Stirred Not Shaken.”

  As a show of appreciation, Claire renamed the Rainforest Brittle ice cream Love on the Rocks in Heather’s honor. It immediately sold out.

  Saturday, things got so busy that David was drafted into working behind the counter as customers continued to flock in. He’d started out bussing tables but got roped into counter duty by Anastasia, who replaced him with Barry, the student help Claire had hired only the day before.

  “Why can’t Barry work up front?” David said even as Anastasia was dragging him behind the counter.

  “Because Claire hasn’t finished training him yet.”

  “She didn’t train me, either.”

  “I gave you a crash course in ice-cream history and this is the way you treat me?”

  “Well, if you put it like that. I wouldn’t want you to think I was unappreciative of that unforgettable lesson or anything.” Giving her a wolfish smile that took her breath away, he swaggered over to the next customer in line and took their order.

  By the end of the business day, David was showing some of his grandfather’s flare for the dramatic by actually completing a one-handed toss of a scoop of butter pecan. The bad news was that he missed the tulip sundae dish he was aiming for. The good news was that he also narrowly missed hitting Anastasia with the ice cream he’d launched. Instead, it landed with a plop on the tile floor.

  While cleaning it up, David realized that he’d actually had a great time, which was weird because he’d always considered himself to be a high-intensity macho kind of guy and an ice-cream parlor wasn’t exactly a den of masculinity.

  He suspected Anastasia would be pleased to know that he was enjoying himself. She was wearing a white bib apron to protect her clothing, as they all were. But she looked particularly good in hers.

  “Are you having fun yet?” she teasingly asked him, as she’d often done in the past.

  This time, he could say with complete honesty, “Yeah, I am.” He just wasn’t sure, yet, how happy he was about that.

  DESPITE THE LONG HOURS he’d worked at The Big Dipper on Saturday, David went downstairs to resume what his grandmother and Anastasia had come to refer to as his treasure hunt. He’d pretty much given up on finding anything, but he was nothing if not thorough and there was only a small space left that he had yet to explore.

  “David, are you down there?” Anastasia called down, taking a few steps downstairs to confirm that he was.

  He paused in his search long enough to appreciate the fact that she’d changed from the jeans and Big Dipper T-shirt working uniform that he still wore, into the incredible dress she’d had on when she’d given him that memorable lesson in ice-cream history and seduction.

  “Any luck with the treasure hunt?” Her smile was brighter than the fluorescent lighting.

  “I give up. There’s nothing down here,” he told himself as much as her.

  Moving to his side, she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze as she said, “Yes, there is. I can feel it.”

  “Then lead me to it”

  “I wish I could, but I’m not one of those divining rods that can find water holes—or hidden treasures, for that matter.” She looked at the blueprints for a moment and then pointed something out. “Wait a minute. See here how the corner isn’t quite the way it is in reality? This shows it as a right angle where actually it’s more on a slant. Gives you more room that way.”

  “That’s why they did it that way.”

  “But it could also be a way of putting a fake front on a corner storage area.”

  Studying the blueprints again, he said, “You may have a point.” Going to the corner, he studied it closely before shaking his head. “I’ve already examined the area. I’m telling you, there’s nothing here.” He pushed on the concrete foundation wall to prove his point. To his astonishment a section of the adjoining plastered wall abruptly gave way, popping outward instead of inward.

  Anastasia grinned at his awed expression and said just one word. “Bingo.”

  10

  “WHAT’S INSIDE?” Anastasia demanded, her voice trembling with excitement. “Can you see?”

  “Not with you blinding me by aiming the flashlight in my eyes,” David grumbled.

  “Sorry.” She adjusted the high-powered beam while trying to peer over his shoulder. “Is that better? It sure is dusty in there,” she added, right before sneezing. “Who’d have thought that Chesty was smart enough to have a trick door built into the wall. You know, it sort of looks like a miniature wine cellar.”

  “I don’t understand it,” David was muttering. “I checked every inch of this wall before and found absolutely nothing.”

  “So what’s in there?” Her voice was breathless.

  His was not. “The shelves are empty,” he said. “I told you that would be the case. Just like Geraldo Rivera and Al Capone’s empty safe.”

  “Yes, but in that case, someone from the IRS was standing right beside Geraldo, ready to confiscate anything of value they might find against the umpteen thousand dollars in back taxes Al still owed.”

  “Yeah, well, that proves that nothing is certain except death and taxes,” he drawled.

  Anastasia wasn’t as willing to give up yet. “Wait a second. I think there’s something on the top shelf way in the back. See?” She aimed the flashlight where she meant.

  “I see.” The enthusiasm was back in his voice.

  She knew that despite his protestations of not expecting to find anything, he had gotten caught up in this treasure hunt She hated to see him disappointed, when it had taken him so long to resume even this tenuous connection to a dream.r />
  “I can’t reach that high,” he muttered in frustration. “I’ll have to get a step stool or something.”

  He settled on the “or something” of a nearby wooden box. “I can feel it,” he said, excitement lacing his voice as he stood on tiptoe…only to tumble off the wobbly box into her arms. They both would have landed on the floor had he not made such a quick recovery. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that question. Pressed tightly against him—her hands on the warmth of his cotton T-shirt, her thigh pinned between his denim-clad legs—she was physically unharmed, but desire buzzed through her system like a drug. “We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” she murmured. “The last time we did, we got caught by the police in the park.”

  “I remember.” His golden-gruff voice rolled over her like rich caramel sauce, her favorite flavor.

  It would be so easy to stay where she was, to just melt against him, but she tried to be restrained and adult by moving away from him. “I think you’d better use a proper step stool this time.”

  “That’s the first time you’ve used your librarian voice on me. And you know what? I like it.”

  She liked his grin and the frequency with which he was flashing it at her lately. When she remembered the grim-faced man who’d first confronted her six weeks ago, she was delighted, encouraged and awed by the change in him.

  His leave of absence was almost over now and she wondered how his going back to work would affect him. He never talked about his job.

  “You’re staring at me,” he told her. “What’s the matter? Do I have dirt on my face or something?”

  “Or something,” she murmured softly.

  Their eyes met and the now-familiar magic started. She recognized the stages: the anticipation, the sheer pleasure, the appreciation. The bottom line was that she could gaze into his dreamy blue eyes until the sky fell in. And he didn’t seem to mind one bit. He didn’t look away. Instead, she could see a slow smile starting in his eyes, lighting them with humor while tiny laugh lines crinkled at the far edges.

  “You do realize that we still don’t know what’s in that hidden room.” His voice was soft with amusement and something else. Desire maybe? For her?

  You’re the only one standing here, she told herself. I don’t see any other women in the vicinity. And while David might love a good treasure hunt, he’d never shown any signs of pursuing it with the same passion that had just been evident in his voice.

  That was still no reason for her to stand here like a stagestruck fool.

  “The hidden room. Right.” She deliberately made her voice brisk. “Let’s get back to work.”

  He got the step stool and resumed his search. “Aha! I found something.” Wrapping his fingers around an object, he pulled it forward. “It’s a…dusty old bottle of wine.”

  She could see the disappointment on his face.

  “It could still be worth something. I read an article someplace about the value of old wines.”

  “I doubt that they carried that kind of wine in Chesty’s speakeasy. He probably mixed this batch up in the bathtub.”

  “That was gin, not wine.” Carefully taking the bottle from him, she wiped some of the dust and grime from it. “I don’t know anything about wines, but this looks like a French label. Come on.” She grabbed his hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my apartment,” she replied, dragging him and the dusty bottle of wine up the stairs.

  “To do what?”

  “Check out the Internet and the World Wide Web.”

  It wasn’t the answer David had hoped for. When he’d held her in his arms a few minutes ago, her warm and responsive body pressed against his, he’d wanted to strip her naked and make love to her, right there against the basement wall.

  As she cheerfully bopped up the steps ahead of him, he couldn’t help noticing the way the material of her dress clung to her body as lovingly as he’d like to, clinging to the curve of her bottom. He was just about ready to reach out and caress her when she turned to give him a saucy look over her shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” he murmured huskily as he followed her into her apartment a moment later.

  “You’re thinking what’s the World Wide Web got to do with wine.”

  “You’re not even in the ballpark,” he noted. “That’s nowhere near what I was thinking.”

  She, however, paid no attention to his words as she cheerfully continued, “The answer is that it’s a great reference tool.”

  “I thought it was a place for X-rated chat rooms.”

  “There are those, but with over eight million sites on the web, you’ve got plenty of selection options. Now I use a search engine to type in wines…”

  “You’re using your librarian voice again,” he told her, dropping into the vacant comfy chair and setting the wine bottle at his feet for want of anyplace else to put it.

  “Hmm, it lists over 217,500 sites that include the word wine. I guess I’d better be more specific in my search request.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard of the laptop computer that rested on her lap as she sat curled in her chair. After that the only words she spoke were, “Hmm, okay, uh-huh, that’s good,” and “I’ll just e-mail them…and them…and them.”

  David wasn’t really paying much attention, distracted as he was by the way the neckline of her dress was pulled in such a way that he could see a generous amount of cleavage as she sat only an arm’s length away from him.

  “There.” With an emphatic click, she turned off the laptop computer and set it on the end table. “I should get an answer by morning.”

  “I think we should drink a toast tonight.”

  “Forget it.” Once again she grabbed the bottle out of his hand, this time taking it into the kitchen where she stored it safely. Returning to the living room, she paused long enough to turn on the stereo, which automatically began playing the CD of Scheherazade she’d been listening to the day before. Then she walked to the front of the chintz chair he was lounging in, her hands on her hips as she gazed down at him in exasperation. “I’m telling you, that wine could be worth something.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s worth something,” David murmured. “You!”

  In a flash, he’d tugged her down onto his lap. Her lips were still parted in a startled gasp when he claimed her mouth with his own. She welcomed the tempting invitation presented by the gentle thrusts of his tongue, returning the slick caress with creative moves of her own. He stroked his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone, the sensuous appreciation of his touch making her feel both cherished and desired.

  Sliding her hands around his shoulders, she rested against him, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. The heat of his aroused body burned right through their clothing, but even so she wanted to get closer.

  He clearly felt the same way as, muttering husky words of praise, he kissed his way from her mouth to her collarbone, his talented fingers undoing the buttons on the dress as he’d done once before. This time he worked even faster, and the dress was off her shoulders in a heartbeat. In the meantime, she’d managed to tug his T-shirt over his head before he lowered his mouth to tease the lacy edge of her silky chemise.

  Her fingers clung to his bare shoulders as he skillfully moved his hands beneath the material to cup her breast in his palm. The wayward caress provoked an intense pleasure deep within her as he went on to brush his thumb over the rosy peak.

  She abandoned reason, and surrendered to the demands of her body, allowing them to dictate her actions as she moved against him. The ensuing friction was a delicious torment.

  Her haze of passion was dissipated by a sudden crack followed by David’s “Damn!” as he grabbed for his elbow, which he’d hit on the edge of the end table.

  Leaping out of the chair and off his lap, she shakenly exclaimed, “What are we doing?”

  He groaned. Not now. She wasn’t going to call it quits now, was she
? He’d die. He wanted her so much it was killing him.

  So consumed was he with his thoughts, and his need for her, that it took him a second or two to focus on her next words.

  “We should be doing this in the bedroom,” she murmured with a sexy smile.

  “Amen,” he said huskily.

  Her bedroom was as colorful as she was, but David wasn’t interested in her decorating skills. He was much more fascinated by that incredible little move she made against him when he fluttered his tongue on the roof of her mouth.

  The move from the living room wasn’t so much an interruption as a building up of anticipation. By the time they were reclining on her bed, Anastasia had undone the zip on his jeans while he’d completely stripped her dress from her.

  Fearing that he’d lose control too soon, he deliberately slowed things down, combing his fingers through her hair as he murmured, “Remember that time my grandmother walked in on us?”

  “How could I forget?” she huskily replied, kissing his shoulder. “It was only the second time I’ve blushed all year.”

  “You said that you had to practice a new finger-play routine. What did you mean by that?”

  She frowned at his question. “It’s pat-a-cake, itsybitsy spider, that sort of thing. Why?”

  “Because I got this sexy fantasy about you and finger play. Only it wasn’t pat-a-cake, it was more along the lines of this…”

  He slipped his fingers to the juncture of her thighs, stealing beneath the silken confines of her panties to the center of her dewy heat, where he practiced his erotic magic on her. He took his time, making sure her pleasure was intense and all-consuming.

  “You know how much I enjoy a good treasure hunt,” he whispered. “And I can’t think of a greater treasure than this…”

  When he fastened his lips on her nipple and shifted his fingers in a devilishly erotic move, her back arched and her lips parted in a shivery moan of ecstasy. He felt her climax ripple through her, saw her skin glow and her eyes widen with smoky bliss.