What a Woman Needs (11 page)

Oh hell, now he could actually support the table with the party in his pants just
thinking
about Beth’s hands being on him.

What was it about her that affected him like this?

“Do the kids know you’re on a date?”

Oh, great. Way to go, idiot, bringing up the doctor again. Kill the moment, why don’t you?

But then she smiled a little half-smile and Bryan’s temperature notched up a few degrees. No moment-killing going on.

“I told them I’m out with a friend. I don’t want them to get attached to anyone unless I know it’s going to be permanent. They’ve had enough upheaval in their lives and it’s not fair to them to parade guys in and out of their lives.”

“There’s a parade?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Hell, before he could
think
them. He hadn’t thought; he’d just reacted. In this instance, that probably wasn’t the best course of action. It was no business of his who Beth decided to date, or how many.

You really believe that shit you’re telling yourself?

Bryan waved the waiter over and ordered for the both of them. No, he didn’t believe it and he was starting not to care that he didn’t believe it. He was starting to care, period.

“No parade. But I’ve been on a few dates. Nice guys but not with that, you know, spark.”

Yeah, he knew.

He took another swig of the drink. At this rate, he might need another.

“So tell me about your job, Beth. You never did get the chance the other day before we got sidetracked.” By the way she’d looked in her misbuttoned shirt, with her hair all windblown and finger-combed while the dog and kids had careened through her house. He needed something mundane to get his mind off the image of how sexy she’d been, standing there while the chaos had whirled around her—and how beautiful she looked right this minute in a dress that brought out the color of her eyes and hinted at the perfection beneath it. Perfection he wanted to hold against him tightly while he kissed her.

He
was
going to kiss her. Maybe not tonight, but he was going to. He couldn’t
not
.

But then she told him about her job and Bryan realized there was nothing mundane about it at all. Beth was a special education teacher for the elementary school. With the stories she told him of her kids—her school kids, but she said it with the same affection and caring that she had when she spoke about her own kids—Bryan realized that Mrs. Beth Hamilton had just gotten even more special in his eyes.

He also realized that he was falling for her.

 • • • 

W
AS
Bryan coming on to her?

Beth stared at those gorgeous green eyes, the ones staring so intently into hers, and she had to search around for her breath.

Was he talking about her? Did he mean he hadn’t had dinner with other beautiful women before? Of course he had. Was he flirting with her or . . . or could he actually
mean
what he was saying?

And if so, how did she feel about that?

She reached for her wine again and raised it shakily to her lips while Bryan stroked her fingers with this thumb.

“I’m sorry. I’m making you nervous.”

“No. That is . . . Well . . .” She took another sip. She didn’t know how to do this. Didn’t know what the protocol was. What she was supposed to say. How she should act.

Bryan took the wine glass from her and set it down. “Beth.”

She mustered some courage and blinked at him, her throat still too constricted to allow her to utter anything.

“I think you’re very beautiful.”

Her stomach hollowed out. Bryan Manley had a way of delivering a line that was like no other.

And it
was
a line. It couldn’t
not
be. After all, she had five kids who’d altered her figure. A dog that ran her ragged, and a house that was a disaster zone on a good day. She never had time to even
try
to look beautiful, let alone actually look it.

“And I know this is probably totally inappropriate, but I want to kiss you.”

There went the rest of her breath. And all the feeling in her body except for the tendrils of want spiraling out from where his skin touched hers.

“Not here, of course. We don’t need that making national news.” He laughed and, oh, what it did to his face. His gorgeous, beautiful, movie-star-handsome face. “Not that I will, either. Well, unless you tell me I can.”

He was giving her an out. It made sense to take it. After all, this wasn’t some romance novel where the suburban housewife ended up with the Sexiest Man Alive and lived happily ever after. Not with five kids, the dog, and the disaster zone. Still, her constricted throat wouldn’t let her say anything.

Yeah, that’s it. Blame the poor constricted throat.

She licked her lips.

“God, Beth. Don’t do that.” Bryan’s voice was hoarse. Strained. Low and sexy and it growled along her nerve endings like a match to gunpowder. “Not unless I can do it, too.”

Her stomach fluttered. No, actually, it rippled. In a totally good way.

Beth licked her lips again—and resurrected the essence of her femininity that’d lain dormant these past two years among the mothballs of her soul. “If you want the right to claim me, Bryan, then claim that right. Don’t ask for it. Kiss me like you want to. If I pull away, at least you won’t have any regrets for trying. But if I don’t . . . well”—she shrugged—“who knows?”

B
RYAN
almost swallowed his tongue. He hadn’t known she’d had it in her.

From the look on her face, she hadn’t, either. Was that a good thing?

He didn’t care. She’d just given him permission—well, she’d said he shouldn’t ask for permission.

“I’m suddenly not very hungry. At least, not for dinner.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, because he could and because it was so damn smooth and sexy and he needed to touch her to keep from leaping across this table and kissing her right here and right now.

He wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself for long, though.

“That’s a shame. Because I am.” Beth picked up the wineglass again and touched her lips to the rim. “Very hungry.”

Holy hell. Who
was
this woman and what had she done with Beth?
His
Beth. Not that he was complaining—it was nice to see this sexy, flirty side of her—but Beth as a mom was incredibly sexy to him.

Where the hell was their waiter?

A hint of a smile slid across Beth’s lips—like his tongue wanted to do. Then she took a sip of the wine and Bryan’s pants got extremely uncomfortable when he caught a glimpse of her tongue flicking out to catch the remnant of a drop on the rim.

She was torturing him. And enjoying it.

Two could play that game.

He slid his fingers from hers. Her self-confident look shifted for a second before she recovered.

Then her eyes flared when he brushed her leg with the toe of his shoe.

“Bryan!” she half squeaked.

It was his turn to pick up his water glass and take his sweet time taking a drink, all the while never breaking eye—or toe-to-leg—contact.

“What?”

“I . . . it’s . . . Nothing.” She sipped her wine a bit unsteadily.

Bryan leaned forward and took the glass from her, then handed her a water glass. “Careful, Beth. You’re going to need to keep your wits about you.”

So he could completely fry them the minute he got her out of this restaurant.

No. Not the
minute
. He wasn’t going to jump on her like a teenager as soon as they hit the pavement. This would be their first kiss. It had to be special. Memorable. He wanted her never to forget it.

She’s not the fling type, Manley. Remember that.

Yeah, he knew it. But a kiss didn’t mean a fling. He didn’t have to take it any further than a kiss.

But then she slid her toe beneath his pant leg and, holy hell, she’d taken off her shoe.

Bryan sputtered the water he’d just sipped and grabbed for a napkin. “Beth! You can’t do that here!”

Her self-satisfied look was back. “But you just did.”

“Yeah, but that was different. I kept my shoe on.”

“I didn’t want to do any damage with the heels.”

Did she
have
to point out that she was wearing heels? Was there a guy
alive
who didn’t like heels on women? Heels made a woman’s legs longer, shapelier, usually put her within perfect kissing distance, and gave him fantasies about all the ways he’d like to remove them. Or
not
remove them. Just Beth and her heels, and, oh hell, he was going to be able to lift the table without using his hands.

He pulled his legs back beneath his chair. There was only so much torture a man could take. And he hadn’t expected to get any from Beth. Showed what he knew.

He wouldn’t mind getting to know so many more things about Beth.

Which he did over the inordinately long time it took the waiter to bring their meal, and then the extra-long time it took Beth to eat it. He could have slurped it down in under six seconds, but his “throw you over my shoulder” comment earlier was as Caveman as he wanted to be with her. And if he were honest with himself, he was enjoying her deliberateness. She took her time with each scallop, savoring every bite, and Bryan found his gaze glued to her lips.

The thing was, Beth had left all her teasing to that one brush of her foot against his leg. The food had shown up and whatever sultry sex kitten thing she’d been trying on him had vanished at her true, unabashed enjoyment of the meal. He could watch her eat for days.

A week preferably. In her room. In bed. Just like he’d suggested before. Naked.

He shifted uncomfortably again. He had to get his reactions under control or he wouldn’t get anywhere near kissing her because he wouldn’t be able to leave this table.

“So why
are
you helping out your sister?” she asked him. “This can’t be something you
wanted
to do. Is it research for a role?”

He grasped onto that explanation with both hands. Beat explaining that Mac had outplayed all of them.

“Mac needed help and I figured, why not? I had some time to kill.”

“And then you’ll go back to the glamorous life? Yachting to Monaco and driving a Porsche down Rodeo Drive?”

“Have you ever been on Rodeo Drive? I try to stay far away from that tourist mecca. But Monaco? Yeah, it’s sweet. A nice perk to the job.”

She asked him about what he did then, but not the way most people did.
They
wanted to hear names of people he met, money items, inside gossip. With Beth, it was as if she were asking how his day at the office was, and she was genuinely interested in his answers from a personal standpoint, not a sensational one. It was nice. New and nice.

Shit. He was getting in over his head here and he still had three more weeks to go. Was he going to be satisfied with merely kissing Beth tonight?

Bryan shook his head. He knew himself. But he also knew Beth. If tonight’s kiss-to-come was all she allowed, he’d be happy with that.

If
she allowed it at all.

 • • • 

B
ETH
picked at her rice pilaf. She wasn’t very hungry—her stomach had been in knots since Bryan had sat down across from her and Rob. Well, truthfully, it’d been in knots when Rob had gotten touchy-feely. But for Bryan to then show up . . .

He looked utterly delicious in the cream polo shirt and khaki pants with a brown jacket hanging off his shoulders as if it’d been custom tailored. Which it probably had been. The guy was incredibly attractive, and the clothes, while not making the man—because, really, Bryan was his own man—they certainly made that man look spectacular.

And he wanted to kiss her.

Her stomach fluttered again at the thought and it was all she could do to take another bite of the rice. It was a stall tactic. She hadn’t tasted one morsel of the scallops. Couldn’t tell if the wine was sweet or dry. Only knew what the asparagus tasted like because that taste never changed. Because the moment he’d said he wanted to kiss her, Beth could think of nothing else.

Bryan wasn’t talking a mere peck on the cheek or a quick meeting of the lips she’d done so far on her dates. No, there would be no chaste peck-and-go with Bryan.

What if she’d forgotten how? What if she didn’t measure up to the movie stars he kissed on a daily basis? What if she was lacking in that department? After all, she hadn’t really kissed anyone but Mike in years.

“Do you want dessert?” Bryan asked her.

It would be another way to stall off the inevitable—but
why
was she stalling? She wanted to know what it was like to kiss him, too. She’d hardly been able to keep her eyes off his lips all throughout dinner.

Then say no and let’s get the heck out of here!

“Thanks, but no. The meal was filling enough.”

Liar! The butterflies are filling your stomach
.

She mentally
shushed
her conscience and patted her lips with her napkin, then sat it on the table beside her plate.

The waiter appeared in a second with their bill and Bryan handed him some cash before Beth had had time to blink as if the two of them had choreographed it. “Bryan, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He reached for her hand again, his fingertips brushing over her knuckles. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Beth got a little shiver at the urgency in his voice. At the command that was still a question and one she still wasn’t sure she was capable of answering.

“Did you drive?” he asked as they left the restaurant, the night sounds and twinkling lights scattered throughout the trees setting the scene for romance immediately.

“N . . .” Beth cleared her throat. “No. Rob did. He’s my neighbor Anne Marie’s cousin.”

Bryan reached for her hand. “Good, because now I have the pleasure of seeing you home.”

He led her to his pickup truck and held the door for her. Beth felt a thrill rush through her when her dress hiked up her thigh and his breath caught. Not bad for a mom of five. With a movie star no less.

She watched him walk around the front of the truck. Bryan wasn’t just a movie star, though. He was Maggie’s confidant, the twins’ buddy, Jason’s hero, and Kelsey’s . . . well, Kelsey’s crush.

And Beth’s.

There. She admitted it. She was crushing on him every bit as much as her daughter was, but on a whole different level. One that knew what could happen between a man and a woman, and she was curious to see what happened between
them
.

Bryan didn’t say anything during the ride, just flicked on the radio to a soft rock station, his hand firm and steady on the stick shift as he switched gears, and again, Beth got a shiver at the way he handled the truck. She could only imagine how he’d handle her.

And, oh, how she wanted to be handled.

He pulled into the parking lot at the township park, stopping by the path leading to the gazebo. He shut off the engine and rested his forearm on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

Beth was staring at his profile. The man was simply breathtaking.

“Would you like to take a walk?” He turned those gorgeous eyes her way and Beth’s breath got stuck somewhere between her heart and her throat and she could only nod.

He brushed his fingertips across her cheek briefly, his gaze shifting right to her lips, and goose bumps shivered across her skin.

“Stay here,” he whispered, then slid out of his seat and strode around to her side.

He opened the door and Beth felt as if she floated out of the car, his hand helping her down. Then he tucked her arm beneath his, pulling her close so that her shoulder brushed his bicep, his scent tickling her senses. She couldn’t name the cologne, but she could definitely name the Bryan Manley part of it; she’d learned his scent so well from her home. It lingered on the towels he’d folded and the one he’d hung up after his shower in her bathroom, and on Mike’s clothes that she was, at some point, going to wash. And on her pink robe . . .

She could smell Bryan all over her house. Even in Maggie’s hair when she’d kissed her good-night last night.

This wasn’t good. He was becoming too much a part of her life. Too much of her focus. Yet she was powerless to stop it.

He led her up the steps to a gazebo decorated with hanging baskets of red geraniums and twinkling Christmas lights along the railing.

Bryan stopped in the center and stood in front of her, never once letting go of her hand. If anything, he intertwined their fingers tighter. Held on to her more securely. Took a step closer and raised his other hand to cup her cheek, then drew his thumb across her lower lip.

The butterflies in Beth’s stomach went fluttering so fast they were stealing her breath.

“I want to kiss you, Beth.” He nuzzled her nose with his.

She licked her lips, her eyes drawn to his. “You don’t need to ask.”

It was all the permission he needed. His thumb drifted away as his lips descended onto hers and, oh God, it was amazing. His lips on hers, teasing, tasting, sliding across hers with such promise, Beth had to gasp to get air going in.

Dear lord, the man could kiss.

His arms slid around her, pressing her against him, and the kiss wasn’t just a kiss any longer. It was a full-out event. Beth had to slide her arms up his back and grab his shoulders—his incredibly strong shoulders—and his arms tightened around her. His tongue delved into her mouth, sending her nerve endings to
tremble,
and he stole every ounce of air from her lungs. But Beth didn’t care because if he just kept kissing her, if he just kept holding her and pressing against her and wanting her, she could go on like this forever.

And the kiss did go on. As she’d thought, this was no quick nibble. Bryan was tasting every part of her lips, exploring every inch of her mouth, his breath hot and heavy against her cheek, his arms strong and supportive around her, his hands—dear God, his hands . . . She had a thing for a man’s hands and Bryan’s were strong and big and capable and oh so sensitive when he swirled his fingertips over her back, igniting another whole round of flames beneath her skin.

This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be standing here, beneath the gazebo with its hanging flowers and soft lights and the pond gurgling in the background, a practical fairyland, kissing
the
Bryan Manley.

No. Not
the
Bryan Manley. Bryan Manley.

Bryan.

She was standing here, running her palms across the broad back and shoulders of Bryan, the guy who was here to clean her home, but who’d slid inside it and given it new life. All in less than a week.