Authors: Maggie Wells
Graceful fingers curved around the bowl of the glass. She fell back in her seat and cradled her drink close to her bosom. Then she hit him right between the eyes with an unerringly direct question. “Still want me?”
Like that nasty mess of a spreadsheet she fixed without missing a beat, she unraveled his self-control with one simple question. Idly he wondered if she could get him off with less than a half-dozen mouse clicks, too. While his brain was engaged elsewhere, his lips offered up the unvarnished truth. “So bad it hurts.”
Her smile turned coy. “You’re the one who insisted on dinner first.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She hid the widening of that grin in the bowl of the wine glass. “Funny, I never imagined you were one.”
“Usually I’m not,” he admitted with a frown.
“Well, I think we proved earlier that you don’t have to be with me.”
“But I want to be one with you.” The admission popped out of him so quick he needed a moment to absorb the realization that it was true. “I’m not sure why, but I do.”
“As much as I’m enjoying the wine, I kind of wish you wouldn’t.”
Betty set the glass aside and kicked his libido into overdrive by leaning in closer. The neckline of her dress only hinted at the beautiful breasts it kept under wraps, but the hint was enough to fuel his memory. Smooth and white, tipped with large pinkish-brown nipples that hardened into bullets at the barest touch.
“Will?”
“Hm?” A second ticked past before he jerked himself from his reverie. “Sorry.”
A gleam of pure feminine satisfaction lit her eyes. “Are you paying attention?”
“Yes.”
“What if I told you I don’t need to be wined and dined?”
He sat up straighter. “I, uh….” He blinked, his impulse to call for the check warring with some weird need to keep his butt planted in that seat. “You don’t want dinner?”
Betty waved his concern away with a flick of her wrist. “I appreciate your attempt to be honorable.”
Tension coiled between his shoulder blades when that sly, sexy smile stretched her delectable mouth again.
“I’m only trying to help move us along to what I’m hoping will be a mutually satisfying conclusion.”
Not willing to concede the higher ground, he pinned her with a stare. “By skipping meals?”
“You seem to be intent on feeding me. First lunch, now this.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I couldn’t care less about food. I want you to take me to bed.”
Her blunt approach caught him off guard once more, but damn if he didn’t like it. Turning in his seat, he searched the room for their server. “Tell me everything about you. Go.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“What does it matter? Can’t we just move this along?” She shrugged, but her inability to meet his eyes undermined her blasé attitude.
“Tell me about your husband.”
“What husband?”
He reached across the table and took her left hand in his. His thumb skimmed her ring finger. The indentation left behind by years of wearing a wedding band was hard to erase. They both looked down at that telltale digit. “Bad divorce?”
That wiped the last of the sexy smile from her face. Mouth set in a line, she picked up her wine glass. “He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that, so he just kept his platitudes to himself.
“I never understood why people feel compelled to say that. You didn’t know Donald. How could you possibly be sorry that he’s gone?”
“Yes, but I know you, and his passing brought you grief, so I’m sorry for it.”
“Oh, he brought me grief, all right,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine.
Sensing danger, he opted for a change in topic. “Do you have children?”
“One,” she answered with a tight smile. “Donnie. He’s a chip off the old block.”
He frowned, uncertain how he was supposed to approach this brittle, bitter version of Betty. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to say to that,” he admitted at last.
“Look, Will,” she began.
“Uh-oh.”
“Can’t we just….” She paused to take a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about that stuff. I don’t want to talk at all. I just want…I’d like to keep things light, if we can.”
“Light?”
“Sex.” The word popped out of her mouth, and by the looks of it, surprised her as much as it did him. “I want sex. Lots of it.”
He blinked then raised his hand. Their waiter appeared at his side. Without taking his eyes off her, he asked, “Would you please just box our meals?”
The man disappeared and the wattage on her smile increased a few notches. Lifting his glass, he downed a bracing gulp. “I just want it noted for the record, I was the one who wanted to have dinner and get to know each other better.”
“Duly noted. You’ve done an admirable job,” she said gravely. “Every inch the gentleman.”
He fixed her with a stern stare, but a smile threatened. “I’m going to ignore the inch thing. Tell me more.”
“You have my résumé.”
“I’m not asking for references. I just need you to take my mind off what you just said.”
“About wanting lots of sex?”
“Yeah, that.”
“I can’t help it. It’s all I can think about.”
Thankfully, their waiter appeared with their wrapped entrées and the leather folio containing the bill. Will slipped his credit card into the folder without glancing at the tab and immediately returned it. Pushing the packaged meals aside, he reached across the table to take her hand. “You’re probably going to be the death of me.”
She held his gaze. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”
He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. When she looked up, her smile was softer, a tad sadder, but somehow even more enticing. “I don’t want to complicate things any more than they already are. I’m starting from scratch, which is bad enough at this point in my life—”
“It’s not complicated. It’s Fate.” The silky vulnerability of her palm tugged at him. He turned her hand over then traced the tender lines with the tip of his index finger. “But if it helps, I think you’re doing a great job with the starting from scratch thing.”
“I think I’m totally out of control,” Betty said with a laugh.
But this laugh wasn’t the rich, full-bodied release of mirth that had been making his dick stir all night long. This laugh was a harsh, self-deprecating guffaw, and Will didn’t like it at all. “I think you’re incredible.”
At that, she quirked a brow. “Do you?”
He nodded, but he must not have been very convincing because she immediately launched into a recital that sounded like a rebuttal.
“I’ve had one lover in the past twenty years. That’s how incredible I am.”
She barely glanced up when their server reappeared with Will’s card and receipts. Will felt the crazy impulse to cheer, but the somber expression on her face made him bite the inside of his cheek.
“The last time I was with any man in any way was over two years ago. My husband passed away a year ago. That’ll give you some idea how good things were between us.” She exhaled soft and shaky. “Then, there was you.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “Then there was me.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t run from crazy, horny lady who basically jumped you in a bar.”
“You mean the charming, vibrant, exciting woman I met on the luckiest Tuesday in my life?” he countered. “She ran from me.”
She ducked her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You need to work on your Tuesdays.”
He crossed the final T in Tarrant with a flourish. “You think they’re bad, you should see my Mondays.”
She chuckled and reached across the table to give his hand a pat, but he caught her before she could pull away. He entwined his fingers with hers.
Betty wet her lips then looked him dead in the eye. “Maybe it’s not Fate. Maybe it’s just lust.”
He had to laugh, tickled by her hopeful tone. She obviously had no idea how sexy it was when she got all uptight like that. “A risk we’ll have to take.”
“But that’s all it is.” She straightened her shoulders. “You get a lover-slash-office manager combo.”
She seemed determined to bottom-line their relationship, but who was he to object? Nothing a single guy liked more than having all the rules laid out for him. “And you get what? A stud?”
She actually fluttered her eyelashes before fixing him with a direct gaze. “Yes.”
The only argument he had to sway her was the truth. “I want you any way I can have you. I can still fire you if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not what I want.”
Her answer came so fast it startled both of them. Betty retracted her hand, and it was all he could do to keep from lunging across the table to reclaim it. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her wine glass. Will spread his hands wide atop the tablecloth, watching warily as she took a greedy sip. He couldn’t resist asking. For once in his life, he found himself wondering about something…more.
“It’s not what you want because you’ll have to shop the cat food aisle?”
She regarded him over the top of her glass. “Because I want you.”
Will couldn’t help it. He lunged. Gathering both of her hands in his, he held them tight. “Then we want the same thing. Why are we arguing about this?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I just don’t know how to do this.”
Her whispered confession caught him up short. “Do what, exactly?”
She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I mean, I know we both know how to do the physical part, so I’m assuming you’re not worried about that. Right?”
“I want to keep things casual.” She drew a deep breath, then let it go slowly. “I haven’t lived my life just for me in so long.” She looked away, her dark eyes searching the room as if the answer to her dilemma might lie beyond the kitchen door. “A part of me wants to slow down and, I don’t know, revel in it,” she murmured, lost in thought. “It’s been so long since I’ve been touched. Too long.” She met his gaze again. “But the other part of me wants to rush in before you change your mind, or I can think about it too much, or my boobs fall any farther—”
The last made him chuckle. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“How would you know? You never saw them when they were in mint condition.”
He dropped his voice as he leaned in closer. “I bet they were spectacular.”
“They were a lot better than they are now.”
“They look damn good to me. And as for me changing my mind, the only thing that’s been on my mind the entire time we’ve been sitting here is getting my hands on your boobs.” He shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. “Or any other part of you.”
Betty pursed her lips. If it weren’t for the pensive light in her eyes he might have thought it was a tease. As it was, the next words out of her mouth made him groan aloud.
“Maybe I should hold out?”
“No.” He wagged his head hard enough to make his brain slosh.
“But I could have sworn I saw it written somewhere that one of the benefits of getting older was a lack of dating games,” she continued as if his input didn’t matter. “I don’t want to pretend I want anything less than what I want.”
He blinked, stunned by the implication that there might be anything remotely game-like going on. “Games? I’m not sure what that means. I’ve been completely straightforward with you.”
“I know you have. I like that about you.”
He pulled her hand to his lips and brushed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Looking up at her from under his lashes, he held her gaze. “I like you.”
Holding fast to her hand, he also held his breath. His heart beat a dull cadence against his breastbone as he waited for her response.
At last, she blinked. “I like you, too.” Will fought the urge to cheer when her mouth curled into a sexy smile. “There. I said it. Can we go now?”
The moment she finished the question he was out of his chair and pulling her from hers. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Betty laughed when she teetered on her too-high heels. Taking advantage of her momentary loss of balance, he caught her against his chest. Her laughter died abruptly when their eyes met. Color rose in her cheeks and flooded the tips of her ears. Oblivious to their surroundings, he kissed her long and hard, savoring the slide of her soft lips beneath his and gorging himself on her sweet succulence. For a moment, the clatter of cutlery faded. Hell, it was a miracle he copped to the officious cough of one of their fellow diners before he pushed her back onto the table and made use of the hefty investment in latex he’d made that afternoon. He broke the kiss with a put-upon sigh.
She gave a gratifyingly lazy blink then hit him with the full wattage of her smile. Smoothing his lapels, she wrapped her fingers around the knot of his tie and used it for leverage as she whispered in his ear. “Don’t forget the food. I have a sneaky suspicion we might need our strength.”
“Bossy woman,” he muttered, but his dick still twanged like a divining rod. “Just wait until I get you alone.”
* * * *
Will Tarrant was not a man to make empty threats. The moment Betty was strapped into her seatbelt, he hit her with another one of those panty-melting kisses. Betty decided it was a good thing she’d opted not to wear any. Something told her this affair was going to be hell on lingerie. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. The man must have colluded with the gods of streetlights. She swore the things only cast him in the most flattering pools of amber.
They zipped through an intersection as the light changed from green to yellow, the car’s excellent suspension doing its best to absorb the shock of the transition even though it was clear the driver didn’t give a damn about a smooth ride. She found herself mesmerized by the play of his thigh muscles under well-cut wool. The sight of his hands curled around the wheel made her skin tingle. When the next stoplight dared to impede his progress, he turned to her with a slow, knowing grin that made it absolutely clear he could read her mind.
His smile took on a wicked gleam. The kind that made her heart seize. “Pull your skirt up.”
Oxygen burst from her overtaxed lungs. She tugged at the hem of her dress as if the man had the power to lift it by sheer force of will. “What?”