“Okay. Forget I mentioned it.”
They finished their meal, and he asked, “Do you want some dessert?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“The banana split is good.”
“What is it?”
“You’ve never had a banana split?”
“No.”
“The one they have here is half a banana, vanilla ice cream, caramel syrup, whipped cream. It’s good. We could share one.”
“You’re tempting me.”
“Then let’s indulge.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
If she’d thought having a bite of dinner was intimate, sharing the dessert was a lot more so. Each of them dipping their spoons into the gooey concoction and taking bites, then coming back for more.
“This is good,” she murmured. “I didn’t know banana and ice cream went so well together.”
“Way before your time—and mine—drugstores had soda fountains where they sold drinks and ice cream dishes. The banana split was invented by an apprentice pharmacist at a drugstore in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, in 1904.”
“How do you know?”
“I was curious about who came up with the idea and looked it up. You can find anything on the Web these days.”
“Uh-huh,” she answered, thinking she wouldn’t find out about her brother’s problem there.
“Traditionally it had chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream. And often walnuts.”
“I like this one better.”
“So do I.”
She watched him enjoy the confection, letting him have some of her portion and thinking that he was like a kid who’d been given an unexpected treat. He scraped up the last of the melted ice cream and looked at her.
“You let me have more than my share.”
“We’ll both have to work it off. I’ll bet you’ve got exercise equipment at home.”
“And you don’t?”
“What would you recommend for a lady who doesn’t want to spend too much?”
“Free weights. I could show you some toning exercises.”
“Okay.” When would that be? she wondered.
Shane paid the bill, thinking he’d had a good time this evening—even when they’d talked about stuff like Bert Iverson.
“Thanks for dinner,” Elena said as they reached his car.
“I enjoyed it.”
“Yes.”
They both climbed into the front seat, and as he drove back toward her apartment, neither of them said much. He could feel tension crackling inside the vehicle as they approached her parking lot. Both of them were wondering how the evening was going to end.
He knew what he’d like to do. Not what you did on a first date with a nice girl. Particularly one from a very conservative culture.
Had it been a date? He wasn’t exactly sure of the definition in the early part of the twenty-first century.
He should simply drop her off and leave, but he was thinking that he wanted to prove to himself that she wasn’t having an effect on him.
Slowly he pulled up in front of her building and cut the engine, feeling his tension mount. Should he drive away? Or reach for her. He watched as she unbuckled her seat belt in preparation for exiting. Her next move might have been to thank him for a nice evening and exit the car quickly, but when he unbuckled his own seat belt and put his hand on her arm, she went very still, then turned toward him, a questioning look on her face.
He could have told her he’d see her the next day at work. Instead he slowly pulled her closer, ready to let her go if she did anything to tell him she didn’t want the contact. Instead of drawing away, she came easily into his arms, and he folded her close.
“Elena.”
“Yes.” Was she simply answering to her name or giving him permission? To do what—exactly?
When she tipped her face up, he lowered his head, touching his lips against hers. He had been prepared to leave it at that, perhaps a chaste good-night kiss on a first date.
But as soon as his mouth touched hers, he knew he’d been fooling himself all along. He wanted to kiss her. And more. He increased the pressure, brushing his lips back and forth against hers, and feeling the contact send little sparks to his nerve endings.
He nibbled at her lips, increasing the pressure, silently asking her to open for him. She resisted for a moment, then opened her mouth, and he caught the sweet scent of her breath before his tongue slipped inside so that he could play with the interior of her lips and the line of her teeth. She made a small sound of approval low in her throat and angled her body so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. As he absorbed their twin pressure, he wanted to reach between them and cup one, but he resisted the urge because he was fairly sure from her response to him that she didn’t have a lot of experience with men.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from sliding his hand along her arm and over her back, and finally combing his fingers through her thick dark hair. He’d wanted to touch that hair all evening, and she didn’t stop him from doing it now.
He could feel her breathing accelerate—and his along with it. He stroked his tongue along the side of hers, loving the intimacy. He had known she would taste wonderful. And he had been almost sure that she would respond to him. Now the reality of what was happening between them was like a whirlwind swirling through his senses.
He wanted to go inside with her where they could have the privacy he craved. He wanted to take off her clothing and stroke his hands all over her body, concentrating on the sensitive places and watching to see the effect he was having on her.
For long moments he contented himself with holding her and kissing her while his body clamored for more.
Chapter 10
Finally, Shane exerted enough willpower to break the kiss, knowing that he was going to have to stop while he was still thinking clearly.
Her eyes blinked open, and she stared at him, looking dazed and aroused. The arousal almost tipped the balance for him, but he managed to say, “You should go in.” He could hear the thick quality of his own voice and knew he was close to the edge of doing something he’d be sorry for about five minutes after he did it.
He watched her tongue flick out and stroke across her lips.
“Yes.”
“I want to see you again,” he said, hoping she didn’t think he’d been taking advantage of her.
“Yes.”
What else would she agree to, if he asked? He wanted to find out, but at the same time he knew he was walking very close to the edge of forbidden territory.
She turned away from him and reached for the door handle. He watched her climb out and close the door, then walk slowly toward her apartment building on unsteady legs.
The impulse to follow her was almost too great to resist, but he stayed where he was, watching her enter the building. There was a large window in the front of the stairwell, and he could see her climbing to the second floor.
When she reached her landing, she turned and looked back. Seeing his car, she raised her hand and gave a small wave. He waved back and watched her turn to her apartment and unlock the door.
Elena stood for a moment at the top of the stairs. She was far enough away now that she could turn and face Shane, looking at his car through the window. She raised her hand and gave him a little wave. He waved back, then backed out of the parking space and drove away. She’d dreamed about kissing him—and more. The dream had been erotic, but the reality had been so much greater that she could hardly deal with it.
She was aroused, but that was only part of what she’d felt—a connection to him that she hoped was the start of something new and good in her life.
But what had the kiss meant to him? He’d looked at her as though he wanted to eat her alive. That should have frightened her. Instead, it had made her heart leap inside her chest. She’d been afraid that the attraction was all on one side. Now she knew that he felt something for her. But she wished she understood the depth of those feelings. Her thoughts circled around as she tried to make sense of the kiss. She knew he wanted to make love with her. And she was quite sure he felt more than just the physical attraction. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to marry her.