While the weather had been abysmal most of the winter, today’s expected high was mid-60s, boding well for a picnic and tour of the Manassas Battlefield with Travis, Eric’s Little Brother. Eric had told her he spent one weekend a month with Travis, and she was thrilled to be involved in today’s outing. This could be a good opportunity to put her crusade aside and just have a good time, if she could keep her mouth shut about tobacco … for once.
When she’d told Helen about the upcoming excursion, her friend had grinned like the happy Buddha statue that sat in a potted plant on her windowsill. Helen had spent an evening with Courtney extolling Eric’s virtues, and her persuasive powers (she wasn’t a litigator for nothing) had convinced Courtney that he probably was a great guy.
Courtney had packed a picnic lunch. “I brought enough to feed an elephant, but I know how boys can eat,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat. Eric set the picnic basket in the backseat.
“Travis is small for his age, but he can pack it away. And then there’s me.” Eric smiled.
God, Helen was right; he was yummy. When he smiled, the air around him vibrated with sheer pleasure. “And with the chill in the air, I think that makes everyone hungrier. I’ve got a thermos of hot chocolate, too.”
Before they reached McLean to pick up Travis, Eric told Courtney about the little boy he’d been mentoring for two years. “He’s shy, but there are a few subjects he’ll open up about, like puppies and basketball.”
“Too bad you couldn’t bring Pinky,” Courtney said.
“Oh, he loves her. He’s spending the weekend at my place, so he’ll get plenty of her.”
Could I ever get plenty of you? Courtney gazed at Eric’s strong profile while he drove with his left hand on the wheel and the right resting on the leather seat. She wanted to reach over and intertwine her fingers with his. “When I knew we were going to Manassas, I looked up the battlefield online to see if they had any activities for kids. They participate in the National Park Service’s Junior Ranger program. My brothers used to love the Junior Ranger books. You have to complete a number of activities, and then they give you a badge.”
“Travis will enjoy that. He’s all about showing me what he can do. At first, he didn’t care. He’d been shuffled around to so many places he didn’t trust anyone.”
“What happened to his parents?”
“His dad died of a drug overdose, and his mom just dropped him off at the Department of Social Services one day and split town. He’s in a decent foster home now, but he doesn’t let his heart get attached. I’m the one constant in his life.”
“That’s a big responsibility.” Poor little guy. Courtney blinked hard as tears built behind her eyes. She bit her lip to keep them at bay.
“He’s special. You’ll see.”
• • •
Travis obviously loved Eric. Bounding to the car like he’d been let out of San Quentin, the boy hopped into the backseat and immediately buckled himself in. “See, you didn’t have to tell me to use my seatbelt.”
“You’ve got a good memory, Travis,” Eric said as he pulled away from the modest house on the outskirts of McLean, waving to Travis’s foster mom, who stood at the door. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend, Courtney. She’s been keeping an eye on me, making sure I stay in line.”
Yeah, like she could keep Eric in line. Courtney turned around in her seat. The smile on the little boy’s face could light the National Mall. “Thanks for letting me tag along today, Travis. I’ve missed being around boys. I have two younger brothers, but I don’t see them much anymore.”
“What happened to them?” Travis’s smile dissolved, and the corners of his mouth turned down.
Oh, no, I hope I didn’t strike a sad chord. Maybe he thinks they’re in juvenile detention. “They grew up.”
“I’m gonna do that someday.” The smile returned, and Travis pounded the back of Eric’s car seat. “Hey, did I tell ya that I got an ‘A’ on my history test? I’m thinkin’ I might grow up to be a senator.”
“That would be super, buddy,” Eric said, putting on his sunglasses. “Just remember that if you decide to go into politics, the most important thing is to represent the people from your district.”
“What’s that mean?” Travis asked.
“It means that you have to listen to them, and when you go to Washington, you fight for what they need back home.” He glanced at Courtney over the top of his sunglasses.
She stiffened. “That’s right, Travis, although as a senator, you have to be the leader. When the people you’re representing are heading in the wrong direction, you have to steer them toward what’s best for them.” She felt heat creep up her neck. Oh, no, I told myself I wasn’t going to get all preachy about tobacco. Back off, Court.
Eric cleared his throat. “You can’t treat your constituents like children, Travis. You have to trust that they put you in Congress, and you’re there to support the causes they believe in.”
“Yes, but you have to look to the future, to what will keep people and the planet healthy. What folks want today may not be the best choices for the future.” Courtney’s volume escalated. She’d soon drown out the voice of Carrie Underwood on Eric’s radio. What’s wrong with me? Can’t I relax? She took a deep breath. She needed to tape her mouth shut.
“I don’t know what you two are talkin’ about, but it sounds like somebody’s gettin’ mad,” Travis said. He looked back and forth between Eric and Courtney.
Courtney stole a glance at Eric. “I’m sorry we got off on this, Travis. We’re not mad, but we do have a difference of opinion about something that we both care deeply about.”
“Well, heck, that’s life.” Travis, the philosopher, shrugged.
Eric laughed. “You’re right, buddy. We can’t agree about everything.”
Courtney rolled her shoulders, which she realized were scrunched up under her ears.
Eric reached for her hand and held it on the console between them. “I was hoping this day would be fun for all of us.”
She’d been craving the warmth of his hand, and it didn’t disappoint. From the tips of her fingers, the warmth spread up her arm and to her heart. “Me, too, and I promise—no more talk about work. Not today.” Her lips quivered a bit as she smiled. She hoped Eric hadn’t noticed, and really, she wasn’t sure whether the quiver was from the heat of their discussion or the electricity of his touch.
The rest of the day was picture perfect. Eric and Courtney walked the battlefield, sharing childhood stories, while Travis ran from tree to tree, pretending he was sneaking up on enemy troops. They all participated in a scavenger hunt to find objects around the Visitors’ Center that counted toward Travis earning his Junior Ranger badge. After lunch, Eric and Courtney sat at the picnic bench, sipping hot chocolate, while Travis lingered in the shop, deciding what souvenir to buy with the five dollars Courtney had given him.
Sitting next to Eric on the picnic bench, Courtney wanted to slide her hand inside Eric’s leather jacket and press her hand to his heart. She remembered asking her mother how she knew her father was “the one,” and her mom said it was the day she wanted to feel his heartbeat. They’d been sitting in the bleachers after football practice. Her dad had his football helmet tucked under his arm, and he was winded when he sat down next to Courtney’s mom. She said she knew she loved him because all she could think about was that she wanted his heart to beat for her. Is that what Courtney felt? Surely, it was too soon to feel this way.
On the way home, Travis snoozed in the backseat, and Courtney and Eric rode silently so they didn’t wake him. Through a stroke of luck, a parking space was open in front of her townhouse, and Eric pulled into it. He walked Courtney to the door, and she found herself not wanting to say goodbye. She fumbled through her purse for her keys.
“Aren’t you gonna kiss her?” Travis yelled from the car.
Courtney looked up at Eric.
“We can’t disappoint the boy,” he said.
Eric put the picnic basket on the stoop, took Courtney’s purse from her, and laid it on top of the basket. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her into him, pressing their bodies tightly together. He kissed her temple, breathing into her hair. “Let me make myself clear, Courtney. I’m not doing this to please Travis.”
She looked up into his clear eyes, the flecks of gold more prominent this close. “Neither am I.”
“Maybe we should move out of his line of vision.”
“Good idea.” Courtney gave Eric a quick peck on the cheek, and then she opened her front door, took his hand and pulled him into her townhouse. She waved goodbye to Travis, and then shut the door.
Courtney was already breathing heavily when she stepped into Eric’s embrace. She gazed up at him. “Okay, pal, work your magic.” She closed her eyes, and he began to nibble on her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth and bit, ever so gently. She moaned. She already knew he was a good kisser, but she wasn’t prepared for this sensory explosion. She opened her mouth, and he shifted his lips to enclose hers. He traced his tongue sensuously inside her lips, and when he found the tip of her tongue, he pressed his to it like they were the last two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, ensuring the perfect fit. Then he began a slow exploration, swirling and winding, but not deeply. Eric’s tongue didn’t assault, it invited. And together, their tongues melted in a harmonious dance. Rather than feeling invaded, Courtney wanted to deepen the experience. She kneaded the back of his neck, intertwining her fingers in his hair.
He pressed hard against her, lifting her off her feet so she could feel his erection pulse against her stomach.
Eric must have remembered he had a ten-year-old waiting in the car because he loosened his embrace and ended the kiss with a sweet, final peck. He rested his face against her ear, his breathing ragged and deep. “You’re killing me,” he whispered in her ear.
“To be continued?” She touched his lips, which were slightly swollen and also a bit pink from her lipstick.
“I’ve got Travis for the weekend and a work obligation on Monday. Are you free on Tuesday?”
“I am,” she said, “and this time, I’ll bring the riding crop.” She opened the door and touched Eric’s cheek. His wide eyes and slightly ajar mouth telegraphed anticipation.
She closed the door and collapsed against it, breathing heavily. What had she done?
Chapter Eight
Helen pulled down the sash on the window blinds so hard that a cloud of dust flew off the sill, which sent her into a sneezing fit. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her Hello Kitty robe, and said, “You told him what?”
Courtney crossed her arms over her nondescript pink pajamas. “I said I’d bring a riding crop.
“Girl, I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re finally taking the plunge.”
Courtney picked up the teapot she’d just brought to their bedroom and poured them each a cup. As was their custom, Sunday morning was devoted to tea and a leisurely read of the Washington Post.
“I need to get to the bottom of what he’s really expecting.” Courtney picked up her cup of tea and blew on the surface as she walked to the window of their second-story bedroom and looked across the miniscule front yard to the banks of melting snow in the street. “If he wants a whips-and-chains sex goddess, he’s gonna be disappointed.”
Helen dumped two teaspoons of sugar in her tea. “Are you sure you’re ready? I know I said you should just go for it, but you gotta be sure.”
Courtney chewed on her lip. “Honestly? Maybe I’m just a little bit … scared shitless about having sex for the first time.” She shrugged. “I mean, it’s only been a few months since I was the nerd of the universe.”
“Well, sex is a no-brainer, and it may surprise you to know that even nerds get down and dirty.... Once the heat is on, nature takes over.” Helen sighed. “At any rate, you won’t be in suspense too much longer. Tuesday night, right?”
“Yeah, his place, but he’s not cooking this time. He said we’re just going to order out for pizza—if we get that far.”
• • •
Courtney dressed comfortably in J. Crew leggings and a cowl-necked burgundy cashmere sweater. She’d already pictured herself curled up on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, and this outfit was perfect. What she hadn’t anticipated was the candlelight. It wasn’t over-the-top like a romantic scene in the movies, where it looked like Yankee Candle had set up shop in someone’s bedroom, but Eric had chosen one light, woodsy scent and placed a few strategic votives around the room, so the effect was subtle—and sexy. He wore distressed cords and a caramel-colored crewneck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he was barefoot, which Courtney also found somehow hot.
“You look gorgeous,” he said. “Of course, you always look, and smell, incredible.” He bent to her neck and inhaled.
She had to remind herself to breathe. “It’s J’adore. Helen said I smelled like old books when I first moved in, so she made me upgrade.” She looked up into his gold-flecked eyes. “And that color is great on you. It brings out the amber in your eyes.”
“Thanks,” he said. “The sweater was a gift from my mom.” He froze. “Oh, I—”
Courtney touched his cheek. “I’m all right. If I cried every time someone mentioned their mother, I’d be in worse shape than I am.” She smiled. “Where’s Pinky?”
“I farmed her out to Travis for a week. Thought a bit of responsibility would be good for him, and some unconditional love from a Chihuahua never hurts, either. Travis is in a decent foster situation, but I know he still feels displaced.”
“That was sweet of you.”
Eric ducked his head a bit. “Wine?” He asked as he took her coat and hung it in his hall closet.
“I’d rather have bourbon.” Courtney needed a jolt to steady her nerves, something that would go to her head quickly.
“I wouldn’t have figured you for a bourbon woman.” Eric squinted at Courtney like he was trying to see into her head. “Maker’s Mark all right?”
“Perfect, and make it a double, please.” Courtney headed to the couch. She set her purse on the coffee table, making sure the riding crop wasn’t poking out the top, trying to escape. She tried to assume a relaxed posture by draping her arm over the back. Okay, that was a tad masculine. She plopped her hands in her lap and fiddled with her opal ring. She practiced deep breathing while Eric went to the kitchen for their libations. He returned a few minutes later with two crystal glasses. The amber bourbon shone like a beacon in the candlelight. They clinked glasses, and Courtney stifled a cough on the first sip.
“That’s … good. Kind of hits the back of your throat, though.” Her voice was scratchy.
“Take it easy. It can creep up on you.” Eric sat on the opposite side of the sofa, angling himself toward Courtney.
Courtney took another sip, and then closed her eyes while she pondered her approach. “The weather’s been, oh, I don’t know, would you say cold?”
Eric’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe he had been expecting more than chitchat. “Uh, yes, I believe most meteorologists would use that scientific term—cold.” He smiled.
“Yep, cold.” Courtney pointed a finger in the air. “And windy, quite windy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Help me out here, Senator.”
“Okay, let’s see, it’s also been icy.”
Well, this was silly. He was obviously following her lead, and it wasn’t getting her anywhere. She reached for her purse, and without fanfare, extracted the riding crop.
If she thought his eyebrows shop up before, now they escaped into his hairline. He rubbed his forehead briefly, and when he looked back at Courtney, his poker face gave nothing away. Was he excited about the object she offered? If so, he was certainly playing it close to the chest. He cleared his throat. “Looks like an early twentieth century design, probably o
ut of the Man o’ War era. He won the Belmont Stakes in 1919.”
TMI. “I don’t know anything about that. The fellow at the tack shop extolled the virtues of this crop’s flexibility. He said the leather was triple cured, so that it did its job in urging the horse forward but didn’t impart a lasting sting.” Courtney could feel Eric’s eyes on her, but she was too nervous to meet his gaze. She rifled around the bottom of her purse, as though the crop had lost a screw.
“Let me see it.” Eric reached for the crop.
Courtney handed it to him, strap first.
Eric reached back to her hand for the crop’s handle. “First thing you should know, try to minimize contact with the actual crop. Body oils will deteriorate the leather, so always hand the crop to someone like you would offer a knife, handle first.”
Courtney squeaked out an, “Okay, then what?”
“Then you’re going to want to cover your palm with a piece of fabric. I’ll use this linen cocktail napkin.” He tucked the ends of the napkin between his fingers to keep it securely in place. “The fabric not only keeps body oils off the crop, but it adds a layer of protection.”
“Like horsehair?” Courtney asked.
“Not as protective as horsehair, but at least not leather on bare skin.” He looked at her from under his eyelashes as he smacked the crop on his palm.
Surely, he saw her shiver. “I hadn’t thought about the logistics. I assumed a thong would be the clothing of choice.”
• • •
“A thong?” All right, Miss Sexpot, two can play this game. “What else have you ‘assumed’?”
“Well,” Courtney inched closer to him on the couch, “I figured there might be some conversation about how the thong wearer—shall I call her the thongee?—had been a bad girl.” Courtney winked at him. He couldn’t recall her ever winking before.
“Go on.” Eric draped an arm over the back of the sofa, just inches from Courtney’s shoulder.
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