by Desiree Holt
“What?” Her friend nearly screeched the word. “With Mr. Hot Guy? Wait, wait, wait. How? When? I want details.”
But Holly was already backing out of her parking place. “Gotta go. Bye.”
“I’m haunting you tomorrow,” Adara yelled after her.
Holly swallowed a sigh, knowing that was exactly what would happen. Meanwhile, she was actually looking forward to a night out with a guy where there was no pressure. Where nothing was expected of her.
Is that right? Then why did you take so much time getting ready? Huh, Holly?
* * * *
Chase couldn’t help feeling a measure of pride. While he showered and shaved, he indulged in self-congratulations on finding the perfect solution to his problem. He was tired of everyone ragging on him because he had such a spotty track record with women. Tired of everyone trying to pair him off, just because so many of his friends had found a blissful situation. Tired of John always pushing him to “get over that bitch, already.”
Right now he was fervently glad he had chosen to live off base. He wasn’t in the mood to answer the questions he knew would come his way if any of his crew saw him heading out tonight. He wasn’t dressed for the gym, and he wasn’t with any of them. And as far as they knew, he hadn’t hooked up with a new woman.
“We can always tell the signs,” John had pointed out once.
“Why? Do I grow an extra head or something?”
“No, you just get the look of a guy who knows he’s going to get laid and have a lot of fun doing it.”
He still wondered exactly what kind of look that was, but he’d stopped worrying about it. He was more bothered by the efforts of his friend to get him permanently coupled up. So now he’d attacked that issue and he was pretty damn proud of the solution.
How coincidental—and fortunate—was it that Holly was in the same situation he was? She would have no expectations, no hidden agenda, no anything. They could be friends. Pure and simple. Just be themselves, without worrying about the impression they each were making or what kind of vibes they gave off. Besides, Miss Sass might make for an interesting conversationalist. She’d certainly keep him on his toes. And that chip on her shoulder hadn’t been quite so big at Ralph’s. Maybe she’d leave it at home altogether tonight. For the first time in a long time he was actually looking forward to the evening for something other than sex.
He’d been dying to find a way to tell everyone to mind their business without insulting them. He didn’t want The One. Or Any One. Commitment had way too many pitfalls and his heart had already taken all the hits it could sustain. But this—a friendship that gave the appearance of dating? That was brilliant. If he could pat himself on the back for thinking of it, he would.
Besides, Miss Sass wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. Looking at her across a dinner table wouldn’t be difficult at all. Why not? There was no pressure on either of them so they could just relax and be themselves. He’d already discovered she was fun to be with. Ralph’s had been much more enjoyable than he’d expected.
But no sex here, which made it all the more interesting. He was looking forward to this so much. He didn’t remember the last time he’d spent an evening with a woman where neither of them had an agenda. The feeling was weird but definitely not unpleasant. He was sure they’d settle into a comfortable pattern that would benefit both of them.
His plan was to pass the word that he was “attached,” so everyone would get off his back. After all, that was the purpose of this particular arrangement. However, he wanted a chance to settle into things first and get a real feel for it. Make sure it was going to work out.
He had mixed feelings about her request to drive herself to the restaurant and meet him there. Manners had been heavily ingrained in him, and the gentleman always picked the lady up, whatever the occasion. On the other hand, this way it felt more like two friends going out for dinner, which was his plan.
So why did he feel it necessary to make sure he shaved extra close? He’d even cracked open the bottle of expensive aftershave his last temporary partner had given him.
I just want to smell good.
Okay, then.
He couldn’t believe how uptight he was as he drove to the restaurant. With sudden panic he wondered what they’d talk about. Whether she’d find him boring. Whether he’d find her boring. What the hell? He never ran out of topics to discuss. Of course, most of his dates—make that all of them—since his personal life had self-destructed, hadn’t been interested in much except drinking and dancing and screwing. Which was exactly the way he liked it.
No screwing around tonight, Chase. This is just two friends having dinner. And no, we’re not friends with benefits.
By the time he’d finished having the convoluted internal conversation, he was at the restaurant and parking his car. Unexpected anticipation sizzled through him, a thread of eagerness that didn’t usually strike him with other women. Maybe because they were all so predictable. His fault for choosing women who would not spark real emotion in him.
He hoped he’d arrived first. He didn’t much care for the thought of Holly waiting around for him where unattached men could ogle her.
Ogle.
Really, Chase?
Okay, where she’d feel uncomfortable, although he couldn’t imagine Miss Sass feeling uncomfortable anywhere.
He was so busy having another conversation with himself that he didn’t even notice her car or see her walking toward the entrance. He nearly bumped into her as he reached the steps leading up to the porch of the restaurant.
“Oh!”
The sound startled him, and he saw she was barely a foot away.
“Sorry.” He cupped her elbow. “I need to pay more attention to where I’m going.”
“No problem.” She grinned up at him, and dimples flashed briefly on either side of her mouth.
Dimples. Jesus Christ. Was it okay to think dimples looked hot on a woman who was just a friend? Wait. Was he losing his mind? For a brief moment when he touched her something crackled in the air around him. Then it was gone, almost as if he’d imagined it.
“We have a reservation,” he told the hostess who greeted them. “Chase DeMarco.”
She checked him off her list and picked up two menus. “This way, please.”
When he went out to eat with the guys, they never made a reservation. Of course, they seldom ate dinner at a restaurant on the water, even a casual one that was sure to be overbooked on a weekend night. He’d just wanted a nice casual meal but in easy, relaxing surroundings for their first official whatever this was. He’d asked for a table on the porch overlooking the water and was glad to see they’d been able to accommodate him. He’d even scored seating at the end, almost a corner situation, so their conversation could be private.
Because you like to have private conversations with friends, right, Chase?
Damn straight.
He wondered if Holly would think he was weird if she knew he had these internal conversations all the time.
“Are you okay?” Her warm voice broke into his mental journey.
“What?” He blinked. “Oh, sure. Fine. Just trying to get out of work mode after a day out on patrol.”
And he sure hoped that sounded reasonable.
She looks hot tonight.
Shit. Where had that thought come from?
But he couldn’t deny the truth of it. She wore skinny jeans like she’d had on the night at El Caliente. When they walked to the table, he couldn’t help noticing how nice they fit what was a truly remarkable ass. She’d paired it with another top of that same soft material that draped so nicely over breasts he itched to cup in his palms. She wore her hair loose, rather than in its usual tail, and it fell softly to her shoulders. It looked so much like spun silk he wanted to reach across the table and sift his fingers through it. He would have if he didn’t think she’d smack him. Or maybe break his wrist.
A light dusting of freckle
s was sprinkled over the bridge of her nose. Another woman might have concealed them with makeup, but Holly apparently didn’t bother with much in the way of cosmetics. A little color on her eyelids and some lip gloss, and she looked ten times better than the women he was used to.
“Is there something wrong with my face?” Her tone was curious but with an edge to it.
“What? Oh, no. In fact, it’s a very nice face.”
Holly burst out laughing. “I don’t mean to be rude, Chase, but that sounds like something my father would say.”
Well, shit, could he sound any more like a klutz?
“I don’t feel the least bit like your father,” he assured her, then wished he’d bitten his tongue. He just kept digging his hole deeper.
Fortunately the waitress showed up at that moment to take their drink orders, and he discovered even their drinking habits were compatible. He relaxed an infinitesimal amount. Maybe this was going to work out after all. Maybe he’d imagined that little zing of electricity.
“What do you have in a dry white wine?” Holly asked.
“What’s your house white?” Chase asked at almost the same time.
They looked at each other and grinned.
“Split a bottle?” he asked.
She nodded. The waitress was back shortly with their choice, pouring a tiny bit for him to taste first. He nodded his head, and she poured their drinks.
“Here’s to friendship.” He raised his glass.
“To friendship.” She touched her glass to his.
Their fingers touched and a bolt of electricity shot through Chase. What the hell? Maybe there was static electricity in the air or something. He looked at Holly and saw her looking at him with wide eyes. Without saying a word they each pulled their hands back. She took a sip of her drink, still staring at him, curiosity swirling in her eyes. Then she blinked and the look was gone.
And maybe he was losing his mind.
“This is really nice.” Holly set her wineglass down and smiled at him. She gave no indication that there had been any kind of spark between them at all.
Maybe he’d just imagined it. Maybe he’d imagined the whole thing.
“I like being right by the water.” He chuckled. “You’d think being out on it all day I’d get enough of it, but I don’t think that’s possible.”
“You really love it, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Sure do. There’s something very special about being out on the water, even when we’re in the middle of a rescue operation or checking boats for drugs.”
“Isn’t it dangerous when you’re doing the drugs thing? I don’t know as much about it as I should but what little I’ve read doesn’t make it sound like a walk in the park.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes it can be. Most of the time, though, it’s just boarding decrepit fishing boats and arresting the poor slobs on it who just want to make a quick buck.”
“But I did read the cartels use this as a method for smuggling their product into the states. I’d think their boats would be heavily armed.”
“Sure.” He winked. “But so are we.”
She grinned, a curving of her lips that fascinated him. “So I’m actually having dinner with a hero, right?”
He laughed. “So rarely it isn’t even worth discussing.”
“Just like you didn’t want to brag about your contribution to the football teams you played on. But your friend was singing your praises.”
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at her words. “He was just trying to help me score points. I was a grunt, nothing more.” He took a swallow of his drink. “But I never lost my love of football. That’s why this opportunity with the Pop Warner League is so great.”
“I saw you on the field,” she told him. “You’re really good with those kids. They listen to you.”
“I hope they’re learning something. They’re really good kids.”
“And it helps that they keep winning, right?” she teased.
“Of course.” He grinned at her. “You a football fan?”
“Are you kidding?” She laughed, a warm, bubbly sound that did funny things to his nerve endings. “I was watching football games with my dad when I was six years old. By the time I was ten I could tell you what a trap play and triple option play were.”
“You’re kidding.” He lifted his wineglass. “Here’s to a woman after my own heart.”
Immediately he wanted to take the words back. He waited for Holly to make some sarcastic crack, or look at him as if he’d uttered a curse word, or worse yet, burst out laughing. Instead she just touched her glass to his—careful, he noticed, not to let their fingers connect.
“And here’s to football friends.”
Emphasis, he noticed, on friends.
As they worked their way through dinner at a leisurely pace, Chase found he was relaxing a little at a time. Holly was an easy person to chat with. She had a great sense of humor and didn’t seem to take herself too seriously.
The conversation flowed smoothly until he mentioned her family must be proud of the career she’d chosen. At once the tenor of the conversation changed. She tensed visibly, then forced herself to relax. Took another sip of her second glass of wine. Fiddled with the stem of the glass.
Uh-oh. Trouble on the home front?
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
She blew out a breath. “You’re not. It’s just—kind of a sore spot with me.”
“Every family has its own dynamics. Mine certainly did.”
“No problem.” She waved a hand at him. “It’s my own personal demon. My parents and some…others…didn’t want me to do this. Thought it was an inappropriate career for a woman.” She snorted a laugh. “I think they were afraid I’d turn into The Hulk.”
Chase frowned. “But that’s just stupid. There are a lot of women firefighters, just like there are a lot of women doing hard work in the military, and on the police force.”
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “Some people just have preconceived notions. I had to agree to get a four-year degree with fire science as a specialty or my parents weren’t going to help with the tuition. They kept trying to tell me it wasn’t feminine.”
He was astonished. “That’s absurd. I would say you’re completely feminine.” Okay, foot in mouth again. “I mean…”
She smiled at him. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. Unfortunately not everyone feels the same way you do.”
“The guys at your firehouse don’t hassle you, do they?” He might have to take each of them down if they did.
“No.” She shook her head. “At least most of them don’t now. There are always a few jerks, but I pull my weight and earn their respect. In fact, Cliff has sort of been my mentor.”
“Good. That’s good.”
The rest of the conversation seemed to flow without any effort. They talked about books they enjoyed, and movies and television shows. Places they’d see in San Diego. Things they found funny and things they didn’t. The getting-to-know-you dance, Chase thought. He was enjoying it very much.
For dessert they decided to share a slice of decadent chocolate cake.
“Friends share, right?” Holly asked. “Because I know I can’t eat the whole thing.”
“No problem. I’m a big chocoholic.”
If only he’d known what it would be like to watch Holly enjoy her portion of that cake. Every time she licked the crumbs of cake from her fork he felt as if her tongue was stroking him. When a drop of frosting stuck to her plump bottom lip, he couldn’t restrain himself from leaning over and dabbing at it with the napkin. He really wanted to lick it off, and that reaction stunned him as if an elephant had kicked him. What the fuck was going on here?
Finally, when his self-discipline was at the very edge, she pushed her plate away and made a sound of satisfaction.
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes. “That was really, really good.”
&n
bsp; Chase wasn’t even sure he remembered what the cake tasted like. How had they gone from eating dinner as friends to a situation where his cock was trying to leap out of his fly? Even with the hottest women he’d dated, he never got hard like this over dinner. What had he gotten into? And did Holly feel anything that he did?
“Chase?” Her voice pierced his foggy brains. “Are you okay? You look really strange.”
With an effort of will, he shut the door on his inner thoughts and sent a message of restraint to his unruly dick.
“Just thinking how great the dinner was and how nice it is to have dinner with a friend.”
“Me, too.” She dimpled. “This was great.”
Those damn dimples were making him even hornier. He really needed to get hold of himself before this became embarrassing.
“But you know,” she went on, as he signaled for the check, “because we’re just friends, even though we’re fooling all those people who think they have our best interest at heart, we really should go Dutch.”
Chase shook his head. “No way. This was my suggestion and I pay the tab.”
“Chase, we can’t do this every time we get together. You’ll be broke.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Holly, I make good pay as a captain. You’d have to eat a lot more than tonight for that to happen.”
“Still…”
“Okay, how about this. Do you cook?”
She stared at him, and he wasn’t sure if she was startled or angry. “Sort of. Why? And is that a sexist question?”
“I don’t think so. I know a lot of men who are good cooks and proud of it. My dad’s one of them. If not, we would have starved while I was growing up.”
Curiosity danced in her eyes. “Oh? Your mom didn’t cook?”
And just like that his boner went away and the warm feeling in his body chilled. “She, uh, wasn’t around.” He signed the credit card slip and put the receipt and his card back in his wallet. “Why don’t we take a walk along the pier, watch the boats on the water, and you can tell me all about what you can cook. I’ll exchange a home-cooked meal for a restaurant one any day.”