“As much as I appreciate the offer, he isn’t worth the time or effort.”
“All right. But the offer stands.” Leaning forward, he touched his lips to the soft bit of fragrant skin just below her ear. “You, on the other hand,” he whispered against her neck, “are very much worth my time and effort. As I recall, I promised to treat you to another bacon cheeseburger if things didn’t work out with what’s-his-name. Since two of those artery-cloggers in one day would probably land us in the hospital, could I interest you in dinner somewhere a little nicer than the diner?”
“Actually, I came here to invite you to dinner. As I recall you like seafood and I make a mean pasta with shrimp.”
“You’re offering to cook for me?”
“I am. Interested?”
“Absolutely.” He straightened and looked into her eyes. Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding of his intentions, he laid his cards on the table. “But in a hell of a lot more than just pasta. Interested?”
Her eyes darkened and she didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
That single word sizzled a bolt of wild lust through him. “When did you have in mind?”
“Why not tonight? Or do you have other plans?”
He smiled. “It seems I do-with a beautiful woman and a bowl of pasta and shrimp.”
A layer of the shadows lurking in her eyes vanished and she smiled. “Great.” Her gaze cut to the stack of papers on the desk where he’d been working when she’d arrived. “Do you have things you still need to finish up here?”
“A few. Shouldn’t take me much more than an hour.”
“Actually that’s perfect since I need to stop at the supermarket.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s six-thirty now. Why don’t we say around eight o’clock, and if you can get there earlier, fine.”
“Sounds great. I’ll bring the wine.” He released her, reluctantly, but consoled himself with the fact that they had the entire night ahead of them.
She slipped a card from her purse and handed it to him. “Here’s my address. It’s only about six miles from here.” She gave him directions, then added, “My cell and home numbers are listed on the card. Call if you get lost.”
“Not to worry, Mallory. Believe me, I’ll find you.”
6
Saturday, 8:00 p.m.
WHEN MALLORY HEARD A CAR pull into the driveway, her heart beat so hard she could feel the pulsing in her stomach. Hear it in her ears. Good grief, she was reacting like a teenager going on her first date.
She blinked. Actually, this was exactly the way she’d felt as a teenager when she’d gone on her first date with Adam. They’d gone to the movies. The latest James Bond flick. And hadn’t watched a minute of the film. The instant the lights went down, the mother of all make-out sessions had started. To this day she blushed any time that particular film was mentioned.
Her common sense firmly told both her heart and hormones that this evening with Adam was nothing more than a bandage for her scraped-up ego and that to think of it as anything more would be foolish and fall into the category of “rebounditis.” Certainly it wasn’t smart to get involved with another man literally within minutes after breaking up with the last guy. Especially a guy like Adam, whose life and future were so up in the air and who was heading to Europe for three months in less than forty-eight hours. Him coming over was simply about healing her battered self-esteem and rein-flating her squashed ego.
It wasn’t as if she were embarking on another relationship. Heck, no. Nothing beyond this dinner would happen between her and Adam. Nothing deeper than a night of no-strings sex. A one-night stand with a stranger had never been her style, but Adam was certainly no stranger. And the way he’d reacted to her, looked at her with that same naked raw heat that had always lit her on fire, was exactly what she needed to pick herself up, dust herself off and restore her feminine confidence.
That kiss they’d shared at Picture This had imbued her with the same wild abandon he’d inspired in her years ago. A feeling she hadn’t ever quite recaptured since. Yet the thought of being with him again, however briefly, brought all those delicious feelings screaming back. She’d be a fool not to revel in them while she had the chance.
Hearing the car door slam, she took a quick mental and visual inventory to make sure everything was as she wanted it. Norah Jones’s latest ballad floated from the living-room speakers where the stereo was tuned to her favorite evening radio program, Sensuous Songs and Decadent Dedications. Lamps strategically lit to cast the rooms with soft light. Salad, peeled shrimp and a tray of antipasto in the fridge, loaf of French bread ready to pop in the oven, skillet and pasta pot set on the stove. Her best crystal wine goblets on the snack bar next to a grouping of cream-colored pillar candles waiting to be lit. Air conditioner unit humming in the den-and her bedroom. Where she’d stashed a trio of condoms in her bedside table.
Romantic music, food, candles, condoms-yup, she was ready for anything.
The doorbell rang and her heart jangled in response. She drew a calming breath, then smoothed her nervous hands over her silvery gray satin tank top and full turquoise skirt that skimmed a few inches above her knees. Walking to the door, she discovered her legs weren’t quite steady and she suddenly wished she’d worn flats instead of her high-heeled strappy silver sandals. Too late now. After sucking in a final calming breath, she opened the door. And all sense of calm instantly evaporated.
In spite of the fact that she’d known Adam would be standing there, the sight of him, at her home, looking good enough to eat, sizzled a bolt of heat and lust right down her unsteady legs to her toes. Like it wasn’t already hot enough, here he was, causing his own Adam-induced heat wave. And by just standing there.
In one hand he held a brown shopping bag bearing the local liquor store’s logo. In the other hand he held a single lavender rose, an offering that tightened her throat. Their last night together that long-ago summer, the night before she’d left for college, he’d brought her a single rose. A yellow one. Told her it stood for friendship. Then told her he thought they were too young to be so involved. That they should cool things off, see other people. She couldn’t help but wonder what lavender stood for.
As if nature needed to get in on the act of announcing his arrival, a flash of lightning lit the distant sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder.
“Hi,” he said with a smile.
Good thing he’d said something, otherwise she most likely would have just stood there and gawked. “Hi.” She opened the door wider and stepped back. “C’mon in.”
After he entered, she closed and locked the door then turned to face him. Since her knees weren’t as solid as she’d have liked, she leaned her shoulders against the door for support.
He set the shopping bag on the hardwood floor and slowly twirled the rose between his fingers-a mesmerizing motion-but not nearly as hypnotic as the unmistakable heat and admiration in his eyes.
“For you,” he said, holding out the flower.
Mallory took the bud, noting her hands suffered from the same less-than-steady affliction as her knees. Closing her eyes, she buried her nose in the velvety petals and breathed in the heady scent. Then she looked at him and smiled.
“Thank you. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a rose this color before.”
“The florist said it’s called ‘silver lilac.’ It reminded me of you.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
He stepped forward, until less than two feet separated them. Reaching out, he snagged her hand that held the rose, then guided the flower slowly along her jaw.
“It’s soft,” he said, raising his other hand to skim a single fingertip over her collarbone. “Just like you. And beautiful. Just like you.”