After he swallowed, he said, “Wow. That was incredible.”
Yeah, for me, too. She found herself involuntarily licking her lips.
Before she could recover her aplomb-which she normally had buckets of-he looked at her index finger and said, “I missed a tiny bit.” And with that he slowly drew her fingertip into his mouth.
Holy cow. His mouth was satiny and warm and, oh boy, there was no missing the wet, velvety sweep of his tongue this time. His teeth lightly grazed her skin, turning her insides to the consistency of chocolate fondue
After another slow swirl of his tongue, he slid her finger from between his lips then released her hand. “Delicious.”
She nodded. Probably she nodded. It was her intention to do so, but with all her faculties still engaged in recalling the incredible feel of his mouth on her skin, she couldn’t be sure.
“Now that you’ve shared, I guess it’s my turn,” he said.
She had to swallow twice to locate her AWOL voice. “Right.”
“Are you free this evening? Could I interest you in coming over for a truffle?”
The look in his eyes suggested that he had more than truffle tasting on his mind.
Thank God. Because she sure did.
Obviously a fling was all they could have given his imminent move, but since she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, that worked out fine. Even if their fling only lasted one night-hell, one hour-the way this guy had her hormones turning cartwheels, she’d take what she could get.
But his invitation brought reality back with a thump and she regretfully shook her head. “I’d love to, but I have a class and study session tonight. I have to head out in about an hour.”
Amusement kindled in his eyes. “Listen, I know you like to savor your truffles, but it won’t take you an hour to eat one.” He jerked his head toward his house. “C’mon over. I’ll even make a pot of coffee.”
Wow. He sure knew how to tempt a girl. All the warnings in the stacks of books she’d read about how women shouldn’t make themselves too available, how they should never accept an invitation for the same evening, flashed into her mind. And right back out again.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t play hardball.
Tapping her finger against her chin, she said, “Hmmm. That sounds good-except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“This nonsense about a truffle, as in one. That’s pretty stingy for a guy who has an entire box.”
He smiled, flashing those killer dimples, and she made sure her knees were braced. “Okay, more than one truffle. But that’ll present a problem for you, sharing-wise, as it seems you’re fresh out.”
“Of truffles, yes. But…” She hesitated, her courage suddenly failing her. C’mon, Carlie. You want him? Go get him. Be bold. Be daring. The worst he can do is say no and if he does, you’ll only have to avoid him for the next two weeks until he moves. If he says yes…
Drawing a deep, bracing breath, she shot him her best suggestive look then murmured in her best seductive purr, “But that doesn’t mean I have nothing to share.”
Her heart rate quickened at the unmistakable flare of heat in his eyes. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
You. Me. Chocolate. Naked. And not necessarily in that order. “Well, of course it would have to be in the form of an IOU since there’s no time tonight, but I was thinking that you might perhaps enjoy…”
“Enjoy what?”
“A massage.”
Which, she hoped, would lead to her. Him. Chocolate. Naked. And not necessarily in that order.
4
“MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME,” Daniel said, pulling out one of the oak stools around the green granite snack bar that separated his kitchen from the small eating area. “I’ll be right back. Gotta change my shirt.”
“No problem,” she said with a smile.
He headed quickly down the hall and into his bedroom. After closing the door behind him, he leaned back against the wood panel and pulled in several slow, calming breaths.
What the hell was wrong with him? His heart was racing, his hands weren’t quite steady, and his stomach was jittery. But even as he asked himself the question, he realized the answer.
He was nervous. In a way he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a teenager asking out his first major crush. Which was totally crazy. But there it was.
Pushing off from the door, he pulled his dirt-streaked T-shirt over his head then entered the adjoining bathroom. After tossing his shirt into the hamper, he washed his hands, frowning at himself in the mirror. Why the hell did he feel so unglued? She was just here for coffee and chocolate. A little conversation.
Well, that could certainly explain part of his nervousness. He found the whole “make small talk with women” thing very intimidating. It was like being lost in the jungle-scary, unfamiliar and you never knew when something might jump out and bite you. All those long, awkward pauses. Trying to think of something clever, or at least not boring, to say to fill the silence.
He knew zilch about the stuff women liked to talk about-shoes, make-up, clothes. Those topics invariably led to some variation of that trick “does this make my ass look fat?” question that has led to more conflicts than nations at war. Truth be told, the only interest he had in women’s clothes was what was underneath them.
Bottom line, he sucked at small talk, and when he walked back into his kitchen, he’d be required to make some since he couldn’t very well say to Carlie, “You just eat chocolate and do that sexy moaning thing, I’ll listen and we’ll leave it at that, okay?”
He dried his hands as he walked back into the bedroom, then selected a black polo shirt from his drawer. After pulling the soft cotton over his head, he tunneled his fingers through his hair and forced himself to acknowledge that the thought of making idle chitchat wasn’t the only thing that had him unsettled. No, it was her offer of a massage. The thought of her hands on him…he blew out a long, careful breath. Better not think about it now. No, now he had coffee and small talk to manage. If he started thinking about her touching him, he’d swallow his damn tongue again-not conducive to making small talk.
After taking one final deep breath, he opened his bedroom door. As he walked down the hallway, he saw Carlie, in profile, sitting on the oak stool, legs crossed, elbows resting on the snack bar, her chin propped in one hand, and his heart performed another acrobatic stunt. She looked really nice, just sitting there at his snack bar. Kinda like she belonged there. Which was ridiculous-just like the hundred other ridiculous thoughts he’d had about her today. Sheesh. He must be sleep-deprived or something.
When he entered the kitchen, she smiled. “Your kitchen is impressively tidy. I thought bachelors were slobs.”
“Can’t say I’m a neat freak,” he said, snagging the glass coffee pot then heading to the sink, “but I have to keep the place picked up or I risk being flogged by my Realtor. Apparently dirty dishes piled in the sink are bad for resale value.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Eight years. I grew up a few hours away, in Cartersville. It’s just outside-
“Sacramento,” she said, her voice tinged with surprise. “I’m from Farmington.”
He pondered that as he added water to the pot, then snagged a filter. “So we grew up not fifteen miles away from each other.”
“So it seems.” She grinned. “We probably saw each other at the mall a dozen times.”
“Doubtful. I rarely hung out at the mall, and besides, I would have remembered seeing you.”
“A very kind-and appreciated-attempt at flattery, but if you’d seen me in high school you would have run the other way.”
“Again, I’ve gotta say doubtful. But why’s that?”
She grimaced. “I can describe my look in one word-frightening. Bride of Frankenstein hair, braces, zits-not the sort of girl who attracted much male attention.” She batted her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “I’ve improved with age.”
/> He smiled. “You can say that again.”
Carlie’s breath caught at that smile and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she was sitting down because those darn dimples of his turned her knees to jelly. Since the urge to reach out and trace those sexy creases in his cheek was all but slapping her in the face, she forced her gaze down to his hands and watched him scoop coffee grounds into the filter.
Hmmm…he had really nice hands. Big, broad, long-fingered. Strong and capable. An image of them running up her bare thighs popped into her mind-
Okay, looking at his hands was not helping.
Better to get the conversational ball rolling again. “So why are you moving?” she asked, focusing her attention on his coffee maker.
“New job.”
“I thought you owned your own business. Something with computers, right?”
He nodded. “I build and maintain websites.”
Her uncooperative gaze had abandoned the coffee maker and slid back up to his face and she was captivated by his glasses sliding down his nose when he nodded. Since his hands were still busy scooping, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself, she reached out and gently slid the frames back into place.
He went perfectly still. Behind the black-edged frames, his gaze held hers. For several long seconds neither spoke. It seemed to her as if some sort of sexually charged steam engulfed them and her heart beat so loud she wondered if he could hear it.
Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Which was a total lie. There was a big problem and it had all to do with her battle to keep her hands off him.
“They slide down all the time. I probably should just wear contacts-”
“No!” she said quickly and a tad too loudly. His brows shot up and she coughed to cover her outburst, then added more gently, “I mean, your glasses…they suit you.”
“Right. It completes the computer geek look.”
“Well, not exactly. For the complete look, you’d need high-water pants, a white socks/black shoes combo and a pocket protector.”
His lips twitched. “I have that outfit. You want me to go change?”
Her gaze wandered over his broad shoulders and chest, which filled out his black polo shirt very nicely. The width of his chest suggested he must bench press computers as well as build websites with them.
“No need to change on my account,” she said, relieved she sounded so breezy. “You look…” Delicious. Incredible. Sexy as hell. So good I want to jump across this snack bar and freakin’ attack you. “Fine.”
“Thanks,” he said, then poured all the grinds in the filter back into the coffee can.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked.
“I, uh, lost count when you pushed up my glasses.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“I wasn’t complaining.” His smile flashed, then he returned his attention back to coffee scooping.
She waited until he finished, absolutely not admiring his hands the whole time, then asked, “What’s the new job?”
“A manager for Allied Computers’ I.T. department. In Boston.”
“Huge change. What about your website business?”
“I’m not taking on any new clients, but I’ll continue to maintain the sites I’ve already designed. Updates aren’t that time consuming-not like designing and constructing a site-and it’ll provide a nice side income.”
“New job, new city-you must be pretty excited about all that.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “Uh, yeah.” He flicked the coffee maker’s “on” switch.
She studied him for several seconds while he busied himself putting the lid on the coffee can. “Must be difficult to leave this town behind.”
His head jerked up from his task and their eyes met, his filled with surprise. “What are you, some sort of mind reader?”
If only. She’d give a lot to know what was on his mind, to know if she was on his mind. “No. Just…empathetic. I’ve only lived in Austell three months and I already love it.”
“It’s a great place to live,” he agreed in a voice Carlie thought sounded decidedly wistful.
“I think so. I’m glad I decided to move in after all.”
“You weren’t going to?”
She shook her head. “My roommate eloped after I’d signed the lease and I would have lost three months’ rent if I’d backed out. Financially, the rent payment’s a stretch, especially with the cost of books and tuition, but I love the house and yard so much, I decided to just dip into my savings and suck it up for the next year until I earn my bachelor’s degree.”
“What are you studying?”
“Occupational therapy.”
“I’ve heard of that, but I can’t say I really know what an occupational therapist does.”
“We help people whose living skills have been compromised, through accidents or illness or birth defects.”
He came around the snack bar and sat on the chair next to her. “How did you come to be interested in that?”
Maybe it was because he sounded genuinely interested, or perhaps an attack of the babbles, but she started talking, and before she knew it, she’d told him all about her grandfather’s debilitating stroke and about Marlene, the incredible occupational therapist who had made such a difference in Pop’s quality of life.
“Pop and Gran had always been so active together-swimming, golf, tennis,” she said softly, an image of her beloved grandparents flashing in her mind. “His stroke devastated both of them. Our entire family. I was just finishing high school at the time, and after I saw the difference Marlene made in Pop’s recovery, I knew the career path I wanted to follow.” She drew a deep breath, enjoying the redolence of brewing coffee. “Unfortunately the school I dreamed of attending was expensive and money was extremely tight. So instead of starting college right away, I decided to get my license as a massage therapist. That way I could earn money for school and still work once I started classes. Now I go to school part-time, work part-time at The Delaford’s spa, and take private clients on the side.”
“The Delaford doesn’t mind you doing that?”
“No, since the spa is only open to resort guests. Which is one reason why Austell is so perfect for me. It’s central to both The Delaford and school. I just need to find a way to attract more private clients. Right now it’s all word of mouth. I don’t like advertising in the newspaper because no matter how the ad is worded, it still comes across like I’m running a massage parlor.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze resting on hers, and she forced herself to pause for breath. After several seconds of silence during which he continued to study her, an embarrassed warmth crept up her neck. Yikes, he probably thought she was a total blabbermouth. With a nervous laugh, she said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on and on. I told you more than you ever wanted to know, I’m sure.”
He shook his head. “I liked listening to you. You’re…easy to talk to. And it’s refreshing to hear that someone loves what they’re doing, that their goals involve helping other people. You’re obviously passionate about what you’re doing with your life and I find that very commendable. Very admirable.” He reached out and brushed a single fingertip across the back of her hand. “Very attractive.”
That gentle stroke ignited a firestorm under her skin, and her gaze riveted on the sight of his hand touching hers.
“In fact,” he said, slowly stroking her again, “you didn’t tell me nearly enough.”
“I…I didn’t?”
“No.” Another slow caress. Another explosion under her skin.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Happy to tell you anything you want to know. Especially if you, um, keep doing that.”
He took her hand in his and continued to lightly stroke her with the pad of his thumb. “My pleasure. Your skin is amazingly soft.”
“I…thanks. I use a lot of lotion in my line of work.” She fought the need to fan herself with her free hand. “Was there somethi
ng else about me you wanted to know? You’d better ask quick, before I melt into a puddle on your floor. I’m a sucker for a hand massage.”
“Good to know. And yeah, I’d like to know how it is that someone like you doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Someone like me?”
“Someone with such soft skin.” He lifted her hand, touched his lips to her sensitive inner wrist, then breathed deeply. “Someone who smells so good. Someone who’s smart and committed to her work.” He lowered her hand, still caressing her, and it was all she could do not to purr.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation, she said, “My last boyfriend and I split about six months ago after two years together. After that, I decided I was better off with puppies than another boyfriend.”
“My yard might disagree with you,” he said in a dry voice.
Heat flooded her face even though the wink he then gave her made it clear he was kidding. “Have I mentioned what a good sport you’ve been? How incredibly patient?”
His lips curved upward in a slow smile that curled her toes inside her Keds. “I’m a very nice guy.”
“Says who-your mom?” she teased.
“As a matter of fact, she does. So what happened with what’s his name, or would you rather not talk about it?”
Carlie shrugged. “He was pressuring me to get married because he was ready to start a family-now. I told him that even if we were to marry, I’d want to wait to start a family. Finish my degree then get a couple years of job experience under my belt before taking on motherhood.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“I thought so. But he didn’t. After going around and around about it, he issued me an ultimatum-marriage and kids now or never. I picked never.”
“That must have hurt.”
“It did. It also pissed me off that after all our time together he still had no clue how important my work is to me. That he wanted so badly to change me. That he couldn’t accept me as I am.”
“No regrets?”
“None. Well, except for the next guy I went out with. He lasted two hours. I was done with him after he told me I’d be really cute if I lost ten pounds. That’s when I decided I was done with my unfortunate tendency to find men who wanted to change me or make me into something I’m not, and that puppies were the way to go. They’re always happy to see me, they don’t care that I’m not built like a pencil, they love to snuggle, and they don’t speak English. Perfect qualities in a male-no offense.”
Sinfully Sweet Page 11