Veterans Day
From: mandainflight@hotmail.com
To: Rcampbell@campbelllagers.com
Sent: Tuesday, Nov 10, 2009
Subject: One more time?
Reese—
Another holiday … whaddya say? Want to meet me for a Veterans Day game of captured enemy soldier vs. ruthless interrogator?
Manda
From: Rcampbell@campbelllagers.com
To: mandainflight@hotmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, Nov 10, 2009
Subject: One more time?
Affirmative. Where. When.
R.
PS: Tell me I get to be the ruthless interrogator.
BEING INTERROGATED had never been so much fun.
Lying in bed in the Cleveland hotel room, Reese watched as the sexiest woman he knew emerged from the bathroom. She was wrapped in a white towel, her skin slick and reddened from the steamy hot shower she’d just taken. It was probably also that way because he’d been touching her, tasting her, adoring her all afternoon. And though he’d already spent almost as many waking hours today inside her body as he had out of it, he already wanted her again.
He still couldn’t quite believe this had even happened. Not the sex—God, yes, that was bound to happen whenever the two of them were in a room with a flat surface. But them being together again at all.
He’d tried calling Amanda a couple of times after they’d said their goodbyes in Chicago the morning after Halloween. She hadn’t responded. Nor had she returned his e-mails.
Finally, he’d had to accept the fact that she’d meant it—one night only. He’d have to live for the rest of his life with the knowledge that the most desirable woman he’d ever met, and the best sex he’d ever had, were both in his past.
He’d tried to get his mind back into his real life. So much needed his attention: the business, the family, his own house. Responsibilities seemed to weigh heavier on his back every time he answered the phone or opened his front door.
Then, out of the blue, this morning, her message.
He hadn’t hesitated. Inventing an out-of-town meeting, he’d thrown a few things in a bag, dropped his dog off at a buddy’s and headed to Cleveland. He’d needed no further details than the name of the hotel and the time she’d be there.
There was nothing that could have prevented him from making the trip. Absolutely nothing that would have stopped him from accepting her invitation to sin.
And oh, sin they had.
“You know, I might have been lying about where the top-secret orders were hidden. They might not really be inside Jimi Hendrix’s guitar at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Maybe you should torture me again to get the truth out of me,” he offered.
Reaching for her purse, Amanda grabbed a hairbrush from within it, and turned to face the mirror. She caught his eye in the reflection as she began to brush the wet strands. “Sorry. Not buying it. I don’t think anybody could have held out against that last round of—” she licked her lips “—questioning.”
God. He began to harden again, just at the thought of it. That last round of questioning had been unforgettable.
Well, to be honest, the whole afternoon had been unforgettable.
She’d been playing her role from the minute he’d walked through the door of the hotel room. He was her prisoner and he had to do what she said. He’d gone along, liking the wildness in her. She was aggressive, demanding. So damned sexy.
Amanda had insisted that he strip. Threatening to punish him if he didn’t cooperate, she had then instructed him to sit in a chair right beside the head of the bed.
Half curious, more than half turned-on, he’d agreed to her terms. He wanted to see how far she would go, just what she had in mind. So he’d given his word he would not rise from that chair, no matter what she said or did.
He’d been certain he could do it. Absolutely positive. He’d told himself he wouldn’t get up, not even if the room caught fire.
Then it did. Or, at least, she’d made it feel that way, filling the place with so much intense heat he’d thought his skin was going to peel off his bones.
It took every bit of his strength to remain still, just an observer. Because with pure wickedness in her eyes, Amanda had slowly slid out of her clothes and gotten comfortable on the bed, directly in front of him. There she’d proceeded to thoroughly pleasure herself.
Seeing her hands move over that amazing body, being an observer, unable to participate, had been exactly the torture she’d anticipated. He’d begun to sweat, to pant, to strain and to clench his fists in a quest for control.
Not content to just run her hand across her bare breast or delicately stroke her long fingertips over her gleaming slit, she’d actually pulled out a vibrating sex toy. He’d had to sit there, silent, nearly dying, while she’d used it to bring herself to orgasm three times.
Then, still ordering him to stay still and leave everything in her control, she’d climbed on top of him and slid down onto his shaft, taking him deep inside her body, controlling their every move, every thrust, every stroke. At one point she’d even turned around to ride him like a cowgirl, all while smiling at his reflection in the same damn mirror she was using now.
He was pretty sure he’d come at least a gallon when she finally did let him go over the edge with her. And that had been only the beginning.
“You’re incredible.”
“Must be Stockholm Syndrome,” she quipped. “You’re infatuated with your captor, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Infatuated. Good word. Maybe even on the verge of obsessed.
“Don’t worry, it’ll pass.”
He very much doubted it. “I don’t think so.”
Her smile faded a little at his intense tone, and her eyes shifted as she busied herself finishing her hair. He suddenly wondered if he’d touched a nerve.
“You might say you like all of me, but I bet there are certain parts you like better than others.” She pursed those lips, reminding him of everything else they’d done so far today. Amanda’s second round of torment had involved her luscious mouth.
He had loved giving her oral sex their first time. But Reese had never even contemplated how mind-blowing it would be when she wrapped her lips around his cock. Again and again, she’d brought him to the very edge, taking him as close to orgasm as she could get him, then backing off, cooling things down.
He’d held out as long as he could, liking this reckless, wild side of her. Not to mention loving the feel of her lips and tongue sucking him into oblivion. Finally, though, it had gone too far and he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. So he’d played his role in the game, giving her the “information” she had been asking for.
But instead of ending it, pulling him down on top of her so he could finish things in the sweet channel between her legs, she’d ended the game with her mouth. She hadn’t even given him the chance to do the polite guy thing—or the standard porn movie one—and pull out before reaching the end of the countdown.
Wild. Erotic. Intense.
She was his every fantasy. And about as far from his real life as a woman could possibly be.
He forcibly pushed that thought away. Because, though they’d done almost no talking so far today, he didn’t imagine Amanda’s feelings about what they were doing—and what they were going to do in the future—had changed. A one-night stand had evolved into a holiday affair. He just didn’t know how far out on the calendar she’d want to go. She might be his Thanksgiving feast or his ultimate Christmas present. If fate was kind, perhaps she’d be the one coloring his Easter eggs.
Or they might have tonight and nothing else. Ever.
Not knowing drove him crazy, in both a good way and a bad one. The possibility that this might be all made him desperate to have and take and possess her as much as he could.
It’s not all. It can’t be all.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
Thrusting away his thoughts of tomorrow, he knew he had to focus on tonight. He rolled over to sit up on the edge of the bed. One thing was sure—he needed to eat in order to have the strength to spend the rest of the night the way he wanted. “Me, too. Please tell me I’ve been cooperative enough to get more than bread and water.”
“How’s cold gruel sound?”
“Uh-uh. I need protein. Let me take you out to dinner.”
Her mouth fell open, but quickly snapped closed again. After a hesitation, she murmured, “I don’t know …”
“I’ve got to keep up my strength. How else can I hope to resist you?”
Her head turned a little and she averted her gaze. “Resist me? That’s what you call resisting?”
“Come on, cut me a break. It’s kinda hard to say no to a woman when she has your cock in her mouth.”
Amazing. They’d done the most intense things to one another, but he’d swear a slight flush rose in her face at his words. And she still wouldn’t look at him.
Embarrassment? That seemed crazy, given all they’d shared. Besides, her unease hadn’t started with his crass comment, but when he’d suggested that they go out to eat. Or maybe a few minutes before that when he’d admitted to being infatuated with her.
“Let’s stay in. We can order room service,” she insisted.
She’d play sex games with him all afternoon, but didn’t want to go on anything resembling a date?
Interesting.
Reese stood and walked up behind her, dropping his hands to her hips and pressing a kiss on her nape. “Room service for breakfast,” he whispered. “Tonight, though, let’s get out of here for a little while.”
She still looked uncertain. As if, now that the game was over, now that they were played-out and talking about something as simple as food, she didn’t know what to say, how to act.
Or who to be.
“We both know that’s not what this is about …”
“Look, I’m not proposing, okay?” he said, forcing a noncommittal laugh. “It’s dinner. Eating together, not any kind of a declaration. Sharing a meal doesn’t elevate this to anything more than the two-night stand you’ve decided we can have.”
Her eyes flared in surprise, as if she hadn’t guessed how easy she was to read.
Reese shrugged. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know what you want, and what you don’t. I accepted that when I showed up here today.”
She still hesitated.
“No pressure, no hidden meanings, just food,” he said, coaxing her as carefully as he would a wild bird with a piece of bread. “You can choose where we go. As long as it’s someplace that serves red meat, I’ll take it.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, than finally said, “Do you consider pepperoni red meat? Because I could really go for some pizza.”
He almost breathed a sigh of relief. Both that she’d said yes, and that she wasn’t a woman who liked to nibble on a few carrots and pieces of lettuce and call it a meal.
“Perfect.”
She managed a weak smile. “You say that a lot.”
“You are that a lot.”
He met her stare in the mirror. Amanda didn’t exactly pull away at the gentle push into more personal, intimate territory that fell out of the boundaries of their sexy games. But the muscles beneath the silky skin tensed ever so slightly. Enough to warn him to back off.
He did. “Give me ten minutes to grab a shower.”
Gently letting her go, he walked toward the bathroom, figuring she needed a chance to pull herself back together. Hell, so did he. Because in the past few minutes, it had hit him—hard—that despite being more intimate with the woman than he’d ever been with anyone in his life, he didn’t know much about her.
Sure, he knew he liked her. Knew she had a great sense of humor, was smart and hardworking. Knew that right before she came, she emitted this adorable little high-pitched sound from the back of her throat.
Beyond that—not so much. He’d been to her place, in an old downtown Chicago highrise, but even seeing where she lived hadn’t offered many answers about her personal life. She had no pets, no plants, no pictures, nothing that personalized her apartment at all. Entering it, he’d immediately known it was just a place for her to eat, sleep and chill—not really what anyone would call a home.
So maybe this time-out for dinner, with no play-acting, no innuendo … no sex … would be a good thing. Maybe it was time to take a step back, drop the pretense and actually get to know the real people playing the games.
She might not like it, she might not want it. But Reese did. Because he had the feeling the woman behind the wild seductress was someone he really wanted to get to know better.
AS THEY WALKED INTO a nearby Italian restaurant recommended by the hotel’s maitre d’, Amanda found herself starting to sweat. And not just because Mr. Hot-ness was walking so closely behind her, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back.
This was too much like a date. Way too much like a date. And while she liked Reese Campbell a lot, dating him hadn’t been part of the deal. Dating made this too real, when all she’d set out for from the beginning was a fantasy. A one-night stand that had somehow segued into two.
And only two. This was it, tonight had to be the end of it. Her life was just too complicated, and Reese was too incredible a guy for her to get any more involved with. He was too stable, too solid, too nice.
She … wasn’t. Amanda wasn’t dating material. She was sex material, oh, yes, she was good for flings and wild affairs, even if she’d had no time for any in recent months.
But dating? Romance? Relationships?
Uh-uh. She was the bitch who broke hearts. The one who panicked and took off whenever anybody got a little too serious or tried to tie her down in one place, instead of letting her live her life in flight, as she’d done for the past ten years.
This isn’t a date. Just food so we can build up more energy to have lots more anonymous, no-strings sex.
“Would you relax?” Reese murmured as they followed the hostess, a fiftyish brunette in a full-skirted dress who’d yelled something in Italian as they passed by the swinging door to the kitchen. “It’s just pizza, for God’s sake.”
Amanda drew in a long, shaky breath, trying to force the stiffness from her spine. Although, that was hard to do when his fingers were branding her.
“Is this all right?” the older woman asked as she reached a small, intimate table set for two.
“Just fine,” Reese murmured.
Thank heaven he didn’t say perfect. That word coming off his lips just had too many associations. Sometimes it made her incredibly horny, sometimes nervous as hell.
With its red-checked tablecloth, and an old Chianti bottle plugged with a candle and dripping wax, their table looked like the one where Lady and the Tramp had shared a romantic plate of spaghetti. All they needed was a pair of Italian singers with an accordion and a violin to serenade them.
She almost bolted. If he hadn’t already pulled out her chair and gently pushed her down into it, she probably would have done so.
It wouldn’t have been the first time. One guy she’d been involved with had, despite all her warnings, told her he was in love with her. And she’d run to the airport, hopped on a flight to Paris and stayed away for two weeks.
No wonder he still drunk-dialed her.
But maybe this time could be different. Because he’s different.
Reese was so different. So fun and sexy and playful. Daring and imaginative. He made her feel unlike any other man had before.
She sighed heavily, forcing those thoughts away. The way he made her feel couldn’t possibly be a good thing. Not when it left her so confused, off-balance, unsure. Completely un-Amanda-like.
“Thank you,” Reese said as he took the seat opposite her and smiled up at the hostess. Despite being at least twenty years his senior, she preened a little, as would any woman under the attention of a man as handsome as her companion.
Companion. Not date.
“So are you locals?” the woman asked.
Reese shook his head. “Just visiting.”
“Excellent! Contrary to what you might think, Cleveland is a wonderful vacation spot. Very romantic,” the woman said with a wag of her eyebrows. “Lots for a young couple in love to do.”
Amanda opened her mouth to respond, lies and denials bubbling to her lips. They were just playing here … just two wildly compatible people playing naughty games. Nothing more to it.
But before any could emerge, Reese reached for her hand and clasped it in his on top of the table. Their hostess nodded approvingly, then turned away to greet some newcomers standing in the entranceway.
“You were going to make up some outrageous story, weren’t you?” he asked, casually releasing her hand, lifting a napkin and draping it over his lap.
“How do you know?”
“Are you denying it?”
“Of course not. Just wondering how you know.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m starting to understand how your mind works. Romance, love … those words aren’t in your vocabulary, right?”
She nodded once. “Right.”
The hostess had left a basket of bread sticks on their table, and Amanda took one, nibbling lightly on the end, not elaborating even though she knew he probably expected her to. That kind of talk was for dates. This was just a … nutrition break.
“So what kind of story were you going to tell?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“I don’t know.” Thinking about it, she tapped her finger on her chin. “You’re a witness against the mob in protective custody and I’m your bodyguard?”
“You’re obviously not a very good bodyguard if you go around blabbing about me being a witness.”
“I didn’t say I was a good one. Maybe I’m a too-stupid-to-live one, like in one of those really bad movies.”
“Hmm, possible.” He looked around the restaurant, at the tables full of people who all looked much like their very-ethnic hostess, Rosalita. “But that might not be such a good idea in this place. I think half the diners in here are one generation out of Sicily. You might get me whacked.”
“Got any better ideas?”
“Playboy bunny and mogul?”
“Keep dreaming.” Giving him an impish look, she added, “Besides, I don’t think you’d look very good in bunny ears.”
He laughed out loud. Before he could reply, though, a busboy came over and filled two glasses of water, leaving them beside their untouched menus. A not-uncomfortable silence fell once the bored-looking teen had walked away.
Finally, Reese broke that silence. “So, why don’t we just go with a pilot from Chicago hooking up with a businessman from Pittsburgh?”
She snorted, forcing herself to remain casual when her first reaction to the idea of just being who they really were more resembled panic. “Boring.”
“You keep using that word … I do not think it means what you think it means.”
Delighted that he’d quoted one of her favorite movies, The Princess Bride, complete with Spanish accent, she said, “Well done.”
“Wow, we have something in common? A movie we’ve both seen?”
She gestured toward the table and the candle. “If we had the same taste in movies, you’d know just how terrified I am that some Italian dude is going to come up and start singing ‘Bella Notte.’”
“At least tell me I’d get to be the Tramp in that one.”
Something about his put-upon tone, plus the fact that he knew exactly what she was talking about, made her relax and offer him her first genuine smile since they’d arrived. “I’m a pain in the ass, I know. I doubt you’d understand.”
“I might. Why don’t you try me?”
She thought about it. But how could she? How, exactly, did you go about telling your lover—no, not lover, sex partner—that you had a reputation as a bitch, that men faked suicide attempts because you couldn’t love them, that you’d rather just not be bothered with the whole romance thing anymore? It wasn’t exactly ladylike to admit you didn’t want a guy who’d bring you chocolate and flowers and had long ago realized you were much more the fuck-buddy than the girlfriend type.
She couldn’t say those things. And suddenly, she didn’t want to. Not to him.
Why the very thought of it bothered her so much, though, she honestly didn’t know.
When she didn’t respond, he finally prompted, “Sometimes it’s just easier to pretend than to be who you really are?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
He shook his head ever so slightly, either disapproval or disappointment visible in the tightness of his mouth.
“Hey, you agreed to the terms.”
“I agreed to a one-night stand.” His eyes sparkled as he added, “You changed those terms with your e-mail.”
He had a point.
“So maybe it’s time to renegotiate.”
Wary, she asked, “How so?”
“Maybe we should agree to at least one open, honest conversation, without any, uh, embellishments.”
Figuring great sex would make him forget that idea, she licked her lips. “I don’t see why you’re complaining. I thought you were pretty happy about how things turned out this afternoon.”
“As I recall, so were you. At least three times.”
She licked the tip of her bread stick. “Mmm … six.”
Reese crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her steadily. “I’m not counting the ones I wasn’t involved in.”
“Oh, honey, you were most definitely involved.”
A brow arched over one blue eye. “Oh?”
“Mmm-hmm. And you’ve been involved every other time I’ve played with that little toy in the past two weeks.”
He dropped his crossed arms onto the table, leaning over it, closer to her. Close enough that she saw the way his pulse pounded in his throat. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
He reached for his water, bringing the slick glass to his mouth. As he sipped, the muscles in his neck flexed. And when he lowered the glass, his lips were moist, parted. “Did that happen often?”
“Probably more than it had in the past year.”
A masculine expression of self-satisfaction appeared on his incredibly handsome face. “You thought about …”
“Everything,” she purred. “I thought about it a lot.”
“Ditto.”
She swallowed, immediately knowing what he was admitting. “I don’t suppose you had any toys to play with?”
“’Fraid not. Had to go the old-fashioned route.”
Squirming a little in her chair as she thought of him needing to gain some relief because he’d been thinking about her, she echoed his question. “Did that happen often?”
He lowered his eyes, gazing at her throat and the soft swell of cleavage rising above her V-necked sweater. “What do you think?”
Realizing she’d bit off a little more than she could chew, and that images of Reese pumping that long, thick shaft into his own tight fist were going to intrude on the rest of her meal, she cleared her throat and bit hard on the bread stick.
Reese didn’t let it go, however, going right back to where he’d been headed before that detour into Lustville. “So what happened, your little toy was no longer enough so you decided to break your own rules and come back to order something else off the menu?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, a chirpy voice intruded. “Something else? Wait, has somebody already taken your order? Gosh darn it, I told her I was coming right over!”
Amanda bit her lip in amusement at the realization that a young waitress, whose name tag said Brittani, had overheard part of their conversation. Of course, she’d obviously misinterpreted it. Thank God.
The girl was probably only about seventeen, and she looked extremely annoyed that someone else had been poaching on her table. She apparently feared losing her tip. Considering they’d been left sitting here unattended for a good ten minutes, she was apparently the optimistic type.
“It’s okay,” Reese said, “we were talking about something else.”
Amanda couldn’t resist being a little mischievous. “Oh, yes. Definitely something else. Just reminiscing about something we ordered off a menu in Milan last week.”
The girl’s jaw opened far enough to display the chewing gum resting on her tongue. “You been to Australia? For real? Did you see any koala bears?”
Amanda managed to hide either a laugh or a sigh at Brittani’s less-than-impressive geography skills.
“No koalas,” Reese interjected smoothly. “Just a few dingoes. Now, if you don’t mind, I think we’re ready to order.”
They did so, asking for the pepperoni pizza she’d been craving since they’d first talked about food back in the hotel room. Their perky waitress, whose mood had picked up once she realized nobody was horning in on her table, nodded and sauntered away, not even asking if they wanted anything other than ice water to drink.
The ice water that was just about gone.
When they were alone again, Reese said, “To be sure I’ve got it, let’s clarify. Honest conversation is just as forbidden on your planet as actual dinner dates, right?”
Damn, the guy was tenacious. “Depends on the conversation.”
“Can we talk about sports?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Movies?”
“Sure. Though I haven’t seen a new one in a theater in at least two years.”
He shrugged. “Me, either. Moving on. Politics?”
“Only if you’re a right-down-the-middle moderate like me.”
“Progress. We have one thing in common.”
Grinning impishly, she said, “I think we have more than one.”
“Touché.”
She lifted her glass and drained the last few drops of water from it, then sucked a small piece of ice into her mouth. “I think there’s another thing we can safely agree on. Brittani’s tip is getting smaller by the minute.”
“I think we can also agree that world geography should be a required course in high schools.”
She snickered, liking his deadpan sense of humor. Liking so much about him. Too much.
Maybe …
No. She wasn’t going to go there, not even in her own head. She wasn’t going to evaluate the possibility that this thing between them might be about anything more than having fun and incredible sex.
She’d take fun and incredible sex over angsty emotional dramas and minefields of feelings any day.
Despite her best efforts, for a few minutes Amanda let herself actually converse with the man. Nothing too heavy, definitely no sharing of past relationships or deepest fears. He got her to admit she’d once had a mad crush on every member of the Backstreet Boys, and he’d come clean about his secret desire to be a drummer for a rock band, even though he’d never held a drumstick.
“Backstreet Boys never had a drummer,” she pointed out.
“Too bad. To think we could have started all this fun fifteen years ago.”
“Fifteen years ago, we would both have been seriously underage.”
“But think of all the interesting things we could have learned together.”
Frankly, she was learning lots of interesting things from the man, right here and now. At fourteen, still the rebel trying to survive in good-girl wonderland, she didn’t think her heart could have taken meeting someone who excited her like Reese Campbell.
Well, her heart probably could have. Her parents, however, would have lost their minds.
Their light chatting seemed to satisfy Reese, at least for now, and he didn’t try to steer her toward any more personal subjects. That was fortunate. Amanda honestly didn’t know if she’d have been able to explain her aversion to such things. Not without giving him all the information he was looking for in the process. Her past heartbreaks, her rigid upbringing, her bad reputation for being a little too footloose and coldhearted … all explained who she was today. But none were topics she particularly cared to talk about. Teenage fantasy was about as intimate as she wanted to get.
“Okay, here you go. Enjoy!”
Brittani had returned with their pizza right on time—before Reese could slip through any conversational back doors she might have inadvertently left open. She was so anxious that it remain that way, she grabbed a slice and bit into it right away.
Bad move.
“Ow!” she snapped when the gooey cheese burned the roof of her mouth.
Reese immediately scooped a piece of ice out of his own water glass and lifted it toward her. Dropping the pizza, Amanda gratefully parted her lips, sucking the cube he offered into her mouth. Her tongue swiped across his fingertips as she did so, and suddenly the pain wasn’t so bad. Seeing the way his eyes flared at the brush of her tongue against his skin, she had to acknowledge it wasn’t so bad at all.
“Watch it. Don’t want any injuries that could cut short our two-night stand,” he teased. Then, looking at his own pizza, he added, “I think I’ll wait a while for this to cool off. I have definite plans for my mouth tonight.”
She quivered in her seat at the very thought of it. Because oh, the man did know how to use his mouth. And there were such wonderful things he could do with it that did not involve the conversation she suspected he would want to get back to as soon as they finished eating.
She thought about it. Stick around here and deal with lots more talking? Or just seduce the man back to their hotel room?
No-freaking-brainer.
“Reese?” she said, speaking carefully, the ice now just a small sliver on her tongue.
“Yeah?”
“Can we please take this to go?”
He stared at her, as if gauging the request, and her motivation for making it. She didn’t have to feign her interest in getting back to where they’d been a couple of hours ago: in a hotel room bed. But she did have to hide the fact that her motivation was at least partly to get out of having to talk anymore.
Something that looked like understanding crossed his face, though she would swear she saw a hint of frustration there, too. “You’re sure?”
“I think you need to kiss this better,” she said, pushing him just a little more. She swiped her tongue across her lips to punctuate the point.
He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I guess I should be thankful just to have found out you’re a political moderate who doesn’t go to the movies. That’s more than I knew two hours ago.”
“And don’t forget—not a sports fan.”
“We’re really getting somewhere.”
“Now let’s get somewhere else,” she insisted, leaning across the table. This back-and-forth conversation was reminding her of how much she liked his quick wit, his easygoing personality. Physically, she’d been attracted from the get-go. Now she knew there was so much more about him that interested her.
But only until tomorrow.
Unless …
Only until tomorrow!
“Please,” she whispered. “We only have until morning and I really don’t want to waste it sitting here waiting for the pizza to cool off.”
Apparently hearing her sincerity, he no longer hesitated. He waved to their waitress, then murmured, “But I do reserve the right to ask you if you’ve read any good books lately on the ride back to the hotel.”
“Books. Okay, I can do that.”
And she could. Books were fine. So were movies and politics and sports and anything else that didn’t really require intimate conversation.
He just couldn’t ask her about her past relationships, her family background or her footloose lifestyle. She wouldn’t share details of her aversion to small towns, home, hearth, wholesome values or anything else resembling the world in which she’d grown up.
And she definitely didn’t want to talk about her slightly hardened heart. Or the fact that some people didn’t even seem to think she had one.