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Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520Macon GA 31201
Kitchen Matches Copyright © 2008 by Marianne ArkinsISBN: 1-60504-183-1Edited by Deborah NemethCover by Dawn Seewer
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com
Kitchen Matches
Dedication
To Judy, for putting up with me on a daily basis. I'm proud to call you my friend.
Corinne Weathers, Cori to her friends and family---but not to her very proper cooking class teacher, Micah DePalma---gave a squeak of fear at the flames creeping up her apron. She slapped at them with her potholder, but it didn't help. Her throat was so tight with panic, she couldn't cry out for help. With one last futile whack at the growing fire, and desperately trying to remain calm, Cori reached behind her neck to untie the apron straps. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the bow and pulled it into a good, solid knot.
A brief hissing sound was the only warning she got before clouds of whatever white stuff lurked inside a fire extinguisher smacked into her gut like a fist and drifted in a halo around her head.
She coughed and waved a hand in the air in an attempt to clear it. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." A familiar male voice threaded through the cloud.
Cori grimaced. Ack. Saved by Micah DePalma, her handsome-but-cranky cooking teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone---anyone---else? She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for something to rescue her from his wrath. She knew a lecture was on its way, knew she deserved one for setting herself on fire, but she really didn't want to hear it.
"Are you okay?" Micah's low voice rumbled over her, as did one firm hand as he checked for injuries. "No burns?"
Cori ignored the warmth of his skin on hers and cracked open one watering eye to look at him. He really seemed genuinely worried. Not angry. How had that happened? She'd done nothing but annoy him since this course had started.
"I'm okay. Thanks to you." She shrugged off his hand.
"And no thanks to you," he replied, tossing the small fire extinguisher back and forth and giving her a lopsided smile only slightly tinged with irritation.
Uh oh. Here it came. She scrunched up her face, prepared for the worst. Maybe if she apologized before he yelled, it would help. "I'm sorry."
"I imagine you are." He set down the small red metal tube and stared at the disaster area that was her stove. "However, I'd say you failed this lesson. You may spend the rest of class cleaning up this mess."
Without a backward glance to make certain Cori obeyed his royal decree, Micah turned and walked away. She took a quick look at the horrified faces of her classmates. Her face burned as hot as the flames had on her apron, but she refused to give in to the tears that threatened. Instead she snatched up a wet rag and rubbed at the spilled oil and other goop on the stovetop.
When class was finally over, she put away the cleaning supplies and tossed her dirty rags into the laundry. By the time she'd finished and grabbed her leather jacket, most of the class had already left. She dipped her head and tiptoed toward the door, wanting to sneak out before she did anything else wrong.
"Ms. Weathers," Micah called.
Her heart jumped at the sound of her name on his lips. Now what? Cori hated that he had the ability to both arouse and annoy her, so she opted to grab hold of the annoyance with both hands. She turned and glared, tapping her foot while she waited for him to speak.
Too bad he was such a jerk to her, because he really was kind of a hottie, if a bit too slick and tidy. He had "high class" written all over him, in the way he dressed and the way he talked. That was enough to take him right off her list of potential dates, despite the way her body reacted when he got too close. She didn't have a good history with high-class guys.
She remembered the night his mother---a slim, brittle-looking woman---joined them in class. One look at her perfectly manicured fingers and precisely coiffed hair, and Cori felt certain the woman hadn't cooked a day in her life. She probably had some fancy French chef who lived in her mansion cooking up perfectly balanced and attractive meals for her.
Still, Mrs. DePalma made all the right noises over the masterpiece Micah had created, taking the smallest bites Cori had ever seen someone eat. No wonder the woman was so thin she'd disappear if she turned sideways. She oozed class and money, just like her son.
So, yeah. Micah was so far off the list it wasn't funny.
"I'm too busy to walk you out," he said without looking up from the papers in front of him. "Please let Jimmy do so."
She rolled her eyes at his suggestion. Sure it was late. Sure it was dark. And, yeah, the parking lot was pretty well deserted. Despite all that, she could take care of herself. She'd been doing so ever since she turned sixteen and began to work nights at the garage.
She had to admit, though, she really didn't mind letting Micah walk her to her car. It was a strange sensation, being looked after and she thought it rather nice to have him nearby. For safety, she hedged. She also didn't stop herself from thinking that, maybe one day, he might try to kiss her goodnight. Her heart pounded just a little harder at the thought. Gah. She had a crush on her teacher. She gave a small shake of her head, disgusted. She was a cliché.
She'd turn him away, of course. Rebuff his advances. Because he wasn't her type. Aside from the whole being-born-with-a-silver-spoon thing, he was far too tall and skinny for her tastes.
She was a shrimp, barely registering over the five foot line. Her diminutive height never ceased to annoy her and gave her rather short, but tall-to-her brothers someone to tease. She even had to stand on a stepladder to reach inside the hood of anything bigger than a VW bug, but darn if she'd let anyone say she didn't pull her weight at the auto shop.
Still, having a zillion older brothers had taught her one thing---choose your battles, and give in when submitting doesn't cost you much.
"Sure thing, teach." She looked around and saw Jimmy, a goofy-looking kid fresh out of high school, lingering behind. She wondered if he had a thing for her, since he always seemed to be available when Mr. DePalma, with his antiquated and rather chauvinistic views, couldn't walk her or the other two female students to their vehicles. She should have hurried and gone with them when they'd left with everyone else. Too late.
She gave in to the inevitable and asked, "You available, Jimmy?"
He all but leapt to attention, a puppy waiting for a pat on his head. "You bet!" He trotted over to her and helped her on with her coat.
She tolerated the attention and wondered if Micah had taken Jimmy under his wing. "Let's go, I'm on a schedule."
She smirked at the teacher over one shoulder before walking out the door. And, good grief, she got to do this all over again next week---and the week after that. When her mother had suggested Cori take this class, why had she let her brothers talk her into this ten weeks of torture? Okay, so they double-dog dared her. She hadn't been able to say no and save face. But, still. Ugh.
She'd get them for this one day.
---
The week flew by, and before she knew it, Cori was back in class being micro-managed by Mr. DePalma. She squinted at the tiny lines on the glass measuring cup. Which one was an eighth of a cup? And would it be the end of the world if she was off a little bit? She was just using the stuff to sauté some veggies.
The difference between an eighth and a quarter might not matter to the rest of society, but Cori figured Micah had a sixth sense for the slightest change to his recipe. You'd think the fate of the free world hung in the balance.
She wondered if his attention to detail dribbled over into his personal life. Did he take that kind of care with his girlfriends? With a low growl under her breath, she stopped that train of thought and stared at the measuring cup again. Finally opting to go with her gut instinct, something that had never failed her until she signed up for this stupid class, she poured the extra-virgin, expeller-pressed grapeseed oil into her cup and then into the heated pan.
She huffed out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when nothing caught on fire and the world didn't come to an end. She felt secure enough in her decision to add the diced onions, peppers and garlic to the mix, stirring them with a wooden spoon.
"No."
Cori nearly jumped out of her steel-toed boots at Micah's one quiet word.
"What?" She turned and snapped at him. "What did I do now?"
"Sauté does not mean pulverize. And you should have let the oil heat first, but there's nothing we can do about that now." He took the wooden spoon out of her hand. "Let the food sit just a bit and then gently move it so it doesn't burn. You're smashing the onions beyond all recognition."
Cori figured he still hadn't forgiven her for setting herself on fire. That unfortunate accident hadn't even been her fault. Not really. Who'd have thought you could burst into flames by brushing against a burner, even if you had spilled cooking oil down your front? Twice.
"Sorry, teach." His nostrils flared at the way she addressed him and she gave him points for no other reaction. Then she took the spoon back from him and waved the oily bit of cherrywood around. "I won't let something so heinous as improper sautéing happen again."
"I'll believe that when I see it." He cocked one dark eyebrow in her direction before wandering off to torture some of the other students.
Geez, cute or not, the guy had no sense of humor. She wondered what it would take to make him laugh and then wondered why she seemed determined to find out.
She managed to make it through class without breaking anything or setting herself on fire, so she counted her evening a success, even though Micah had belittled her Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Maybe her meal wasn't cordon bleu, or all fancy and prettily dressed up like the other recipes he'd suggested. Maybe she hadn't challenged herself. Maybe he was right in thinking she could have done better. She'd disappointed him. He'd expected more of her. Strange that his disappointment would cut her to the bone, not that she'd ever show him how much his opinion mattered.
And, despite the fact her entrée was a bit lacking in culture and difficulty, she'd found the meal quite tasty, and had the doggie bag to prove the point. If she got nothing else from this class, she certainly was eating well.
Micah had once again been busy, so he'd asked Jimmy to walk the three female students to their vehicles. Always the gentleman. She supposed that being raised with manners wasn't a half bad idea. Not like her brothers, who figured she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Of course, to make certain of that, they'd taught her a few dirty tricks.
Still, in four short classes, Micah had made her feel feminine...like a woman should. No other guy ever had. Not Steve, her last boyfriend. Or even Edward, the supposedly classy guy she'd dated for seven months right after high school and had lost her virginity to. Jerk. Even after he'd dumped her for some senator's daughter, he'd had the nerve to ask her to work on his Mercedes. She'd worked on his fancy-schmancy car, all right, had made sure the thing wouldn't run right again. Her brothers had offered to work on Edward, too, but she'd managed to keep them at bay.
She thanked Jimmy for the escort, gave him a wave goodbye and pulled the keys out of her pocket. She'd picked up the on-call tow truck shift for her brother Nick. He had a date with some hot bimbo who had bleached blonde hair and legs up to her armpits. He'd begged and, when that hadn't worked, offered her some pretty amazing bribes. So starting at nine o'clock this evening she had to be ready to work. Since that was immediately following cooking class, she had driven the tow truck here tonight. She kicked down a three-rung ladder her brothers had installed so she could climb up into the cab with a bit more ease than she'd done before.
Once settled onto the vinyl seat, she jammed the key into the ignition and turned. The engine roared to life in the quiet, cool early fall evening. She huddled in her leather jacket and snacked on some leftovers while she waited for the temp needle to creep its way up past the "C" so she could turn on the heater.
A knock on the window scared her clean out of her skin, and she spilled greasy meat across her lap. "Dang it all, and back again!" She cranked down the window. "What?"
"Ms. Weathers?" A man's surprised voice poured through the opening. She peered out the window to see Micah standing beside her truck, his scrunched forehead illustrating his perplexity.
She was equally confused. "Hey, teach. Did you need something?"
His gaze traveled down the length of the truck and back again. "You drive this?"
"No, I'm keeping the seat warm for the real driver. Of course I drive this." She scooped up a handful of meat and tossed it out the window, narrowly missing the shiny toes of his dress shoes. She'd have to aim better next time. "Is there a problem? Did I leave my stovetop on again?"
"No." For the first time since she'd met him four weeks earlier, he looked uncertain and almost human. "Actually, uh..."
"Spit it out, teach."
He tipped his head to one side and shrugged. "My van won't start."
He looked just like her best friend's fox terrier after he'd eaten a shoe or gnawed the leg of a table. It made her heart soften just a bit. Who'd have thought that cranky Mr. DePalma would have puppy-dog eyes?
"Oh?" she prompted.
"I saw the tow truck and thought maybe..." He shook his head. "Never mind. I have emergency road service. I'll give them a ring."
"Well, that's stupid, since there's a good chance I'd get the call anyway." She scooped up the globs of food off her pants and the floor of the truck and chucked it out onto the pavement. At least it would make a good meal for seagulls or some other hungry critter. But, boy, she'd been counting on the rest of that sandwich for a midnight snack.
"If you're sure." He shifted from one foot to the other, still uncertain.
"Hop in and point out your vehicle. I'll drive us over in case I need something in the truck." She flipped on the heat before she leaned over to unlock the passenger side door to let him in. She felt his questioning gaze on her as she slipped the truck into gear. "Yes, I really do know what I'm doing."
"I didn't say anything." He settled in and put on his seat belt.
"We're only going fifty feet, you probably won't need that."
"Better safe than sorry."
She rolled her eyes, but didn't harass him about being overly cautious. "So, where to?"
He pointed to a bright orange minivan and she couldn't stop herself from snickering just a little under her breath. From his quick glance her way, she figured that he'd heard her even over the noise from the powerful truck engine.
"Leave your lights on?" Cori said this automatically. That question was the first thing to ask when a car wouldn't start. Still, the guy was always pretty sharp in class so she couldn't imagine him doing something that absent-minded.
"Not that I recall."
"Did you check?"
"If they were burned out, how could I check?"
She stared at him for a moment to see if he was serious. His baby-innocent expression convinced her that he was as serious as a heart attack. "First off, they wouldn't burn out. Your battery would die first. Second, you could see if the switch was turned on." She pulled in beside his van and revised her initial opinion of how sharp he was.
"Huh." He shrugged. "Hadn't thought of that." He raked a hand through his dark hair, hair that was long enough to pull into a tiny ponytail in the back, something he occasionally did in class.
When a thick lock flopped back across his forehead, she fought the urge to brush the dark curl back into place. His mass of hair was far longer than her own, and that thought made her so self-conscious, she tugged her hat down tighter on her head.
"Let's go take a look," Cori said, determined not to think about how much she wished she looked like a girl right now. What was it about this guy that turned her normally strong spine into mush? Next thing you knew, she'd giggle and blush. Ick.
She opened her door and swung down to the ground. He slid the van door open for her and inserted the key into the ignition. When she turned the key and nothing happened, she popped the hood. "I'll give the battery a jump. You get in and try it when I say when."
"Try what?"
"Turning the key." Dear heavens, the guy was utterly helpless. "You mean to tell me you've never jumped a battery before?"
"I imagine I've done that about as many times as you've made chicken cordon bleu."
"Hey...I've made it." She hated that her voice sounded petulant. But, she had made it before. In his class, the first week. Never mind that she'd caused a ruckus by flinging the chicken breast two stoves over when the hunk of meat had stuck to the stupid wooden hammer thingie she was using to pound it out. The other students hadn't minded, not even the one who'd gotten the slimy bit of poultry right in the kisser.
One corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. "See, there's a first time for everything. Just walk me through the procedure, step-by-step, would you? I may be untaught, but I'm far from unteachable."
He looked so earnest and unoffended by her shock, Cori couldn't help but agree to his request. She shoved up the van's hood, standing on tip-toe and pushing it with her fingertips to get it all the way into place. At the sight of the battery, she cringed. "Geez. Yuck."
"What?" He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.
Surely she shivered at the cold, and not at his proximity. She shrugged off the feeling and pointed.
"Your battery is corroded. It's a wonder your engine has started at all lately." She stepped back and tromped on his toe with her boot. At his grunt, she said, "Sorry. But, back off a little. I need some space to think." And to let her nerves settle down.
"Can't you just jump it?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, maybe, but I'd rather not crud up my cables and jumping that mess of a battery really wouldn't fix the real problem. It would be like treating cancer with aspirin. How about a free tow instead?"
He looked at her, suspicion in his blue eyes. "What's the catch? I mean, you don't even like me."
"Not like you?" She snorted. "I'd say it's the other way around, teach."
He stared, blinking owl-like, but said nothing.
She shifted nervously from foot to foot. Finally, she couldn't take the silence a minute longer. "Well? You want to stay here or can I take you and your van somewhere?"
"I'm fairly new in town and don't know any good car repairmen."
"I do."
"Oh? Do you get a kickback for referring me?"
"See...I knew you didn't like me." She smirked. "And, no I don't get a kickback, exactly."
"What's 'exactly' mean?"
"I mean that it's me." She stuffed her cold hands into her jacket pockets and rocked back on her heels.
"It's you, what?"
"I'm a reputable car repairman."
He stared at her again, and that little habit of his was really making her uncomfortable. That look cut through her tough outer skin, right to her soft and easily embarrassed center. His gaze scooted up to her face, down to her toes and back again. The look was as soft as a caress and she fisted her hands, annoyed at her body's reaction to it.
"You're no man," he announced.
"What? Are you some kind of Neanderthal? You think because of my chromosomes I can't fix a minivan?"
"I didn't say that." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile, the first real one ever aimed in her direction. "You called yourself a repairman, and I only said that you aren't a man. That's a fact. Despite your dress and demeanor, you are very much a woman."
A thrill of attraction shivered up her spine and left her unable to speak coherently. She fell back on a simple, "Oh."
His mouth widened into a full-fledged grin and he reached out to straighten the collar on her jacket, fingers brushing the skin of her throat as he did.
"I suppose I have no other recourse than to trust you. Lay on, MacDuff."
"Huh?" Cori knew she sounded like an utter idiot with the IQ of a flounder, but still couldn't seem to gather her thoughts. His light touch had made her heart pound and, despite the blinding speed of her pulse, it couldn't seem to move the blood to her brain.
"Not a big reader, hmm? I can live with that if you can." He opened the sliding side door on the van and pulled out a bottle of water from a case just inside. "I only meant to go ahead and hook her up. Wither thou goest, I will follow."
Confused and more than a little perturbed by Micah's odd behavior, she only shrugged and got to work. He stood back a bit while she pulled the truck in front of his van and hooked it up. The routine of doing her job was soothing, and she soon forgot she was being observed. In no time at all, she had the van pulled onto the back of her truck and secured. That accomplished, she swung in behind the wheel.
"Amazing." He circled around the truck and climbed easily into the seat beside her. "You're such a tiny thing I could almost put you in my pocket, yet you just monkey all over the place and do your job better than I've seen men twice your size. You're quite a surprise, Corinne Weathers. Quite."
"Since I grew up with older brothers, I've been called a lot of things in my lifetime, teach, but a surprise isn't one of them." She gave a snort and then looked at him. "I can drop you home after we take the van in, if you'd like."
"If you wouldn't mind, that would be nice. But it is getting awfully late. I could call a cab." Micah sipped at his water.
Cori wondered if he was aware that his fingers drummed along with the beat of the music she had playing softly on the radio. "I'm on call tonight, so late doesn't matter. I won't be getting to bed any time soon."
"Really? Want some company? I'll buy the coffee."
"Why?" Cori mentally kicked herself. A good-looking, moderately interesting if a bit too slick guy wanted to spend time with her, and she questioned his motives. Stupid girl.
"Why not?" He shrugged. "I don't have anything to do until class tomorrow night."
"No one to go home to?"
He slid her a sideways look. "Is that your way of asking if I have a significant other?"
She sputtered. "Why would I care?"
"Do you?"
"Do I care?"
"No. Do you have a significant other?"
"Why would you possibly want to know?"
He screwed the cap on his water and set the clear plastic bottle on the floor near his feet. "That's a good question, Corinne, considering we haven't been on the best of terms."
"That's an understatement."
"True. And our ongoing animosity makes me wonder why I'm interested in your availability. Curious. But I am, and there you are."
"You've had it in for me since the beginning." Cori's mouth turned down in a sullen pout.
"Which beginning was that? The one where you caught my classroom on fire? Or the one where you made a dead chicken fly? Or maybe it was during the classes when you made snide remarks about my ability to grade assignments appropriately, and thus undermined any authority I might have had."
"The fire was an accident. So was the chicken. You know that." She growled and turned to him. "And sometimes I just can't control what comes out of my mouth."
"There's a way to fix that."
"I can't imagine how. I've been trying since I was two years old."
"The solution is easy. You do it by giving your lovely mouth something else to do."
She swore he swooped like a hawk on a rabbit, a sneak attack she didn't see coming. It was the only way she'd have let him kiss her.
His lips caressed hers, tasting, touching. She sighed and slipped into the embrace, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek, to slide behind his neck, to thread through his hair. She opened for him and let him in. He reached for her, tugged her closer and deepened the kiss. She nearly leaped out of her skin when his tongue touched hers, a tentative question. She responded with a silent but hearty "yes" and buried her fingers in his hair, pressing him even closer. Her stomach tumbled with arousal, so immediate and fierce she shivered.
The radio squawked and she yanked away, slamming her head into the driver side window as she did. Without taking her eyes off him, she reached for the handset.
"Yeah?"
"Cori?" Her brother Dave's voice crackled over the air. "You busy?"
"Not really." She refused to acknowledge Micah's look of surprise at her offhand words. "I just have a busted van to bring back."
"What's your ETA?"
"Ten minutes."
"Good, then you can take the next call. I'll give you the deets at the shop in a few."
"Will do." She snapped the radio back into place and started the truck. She didn't know what to say to Micah or how to behave. "Looks like a busy night. You still want to ride along?" She wasn't sure if she wanted him to say yes or no.
He turned to face forward, a half smile on his yummy mouth. "I wouldn't miss this night for the world."
Cori stared at him for a moment and then squooshed over closer to the door. "Strap in." She followed her own advice and headed back to the shop. Her hand twitched with the need to touch her lips, to capture the memory of his kiss, but she kept them firmly clenched on the steering wheel.
They rode in silence but Cori knew Micah watched her every move. She wondered if he was curious about her, or just about how to drive a tow truck. He observed everything with a careful eye for detail. In fact, she figured he could probably hook a car up to the tow truck after watching how she'd handled his van.
What did he see when he looked at her? She couldn't believe it was anything very favorable. She had to be utterly unlike every other woman he'd dated in his high-society world.
She gave the steering wheel a twist and turned into the shop parking lot. Dave stood outside the office, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. He was the pretty boy of the family, and made up for his lack of height with an enormous mass of muscle. His eyes grew wide as he took in the van. He circled around the truck and opened her door. "Great gods, Cori. What is that thing on your truck?"
She gestured toward Micah. "That amazing van is his. Ask him."
Dave, easily embarrassed, blushed like a schoolgirl and walked away without a word.
"Brother number one?" Micah asked.
"Actually, Dave is brother number four. The middle child. Poor him."
"Middle child?" Micah looked stunned. "Just how many kids are in your family?"
"The folks kept trying for a girl, but success in that area took a while." She grinned. "I'm number seven. And the baby." She unstrapped her seatbelt and said, "Stay put. This'll only take a second."
"No problem." He still looked a little shell-shocked.
Judging from the look on his face, Cori decided Micah must be an only child of wealthy parents who was trying to strike out on his own. That could be the only explanation for his snobbish mother, high-class attitude and horrifically ugly mode of transportation.
She trotted into the small office of the repair shop. Dave stood just inside, a work order in hand.
"So, what's up with the van?"
"Won't start. The battery's corroded. Take a look at the thing while we're out at the next call, would you, and let me know what you think."
"We?"
Cori chewed on her bottom lip, tasting Micah when she did. She couldn't stop herself from taking another lick, enjoying the memory of their brief embrace. "Yeah, well, he's coming along for the ride."
Dave's eyes narrowed. "Just what kind of ride are we talking about?"
"I can't believe you said that." She hoped Dave would attribute the sudden blush on her cheeks to anger. Just to make sure he would, she socked him in the chest. "He's my cooking teacher."
"Oh. He cooks. Does he sew, too?" Dave sneered. "Guess I don't have to worry about your virtue, then. Do I?"
"Just give me the next job." She snatched the paper out of his hands. "Dork."
"Priss." He stuck out his tongue. "You're such a girl."
She growled low in her throat and stalked out of the office. He followed her to the truck and helped unload Micah's ugly van, managing to keep the snickers to a minimum. The moment they were done, she climbed back into the cab and started her up.
"Buckle up," she said. "We're off to an illegally parked vehicle. I hope you can handle the excitement." She drove from the lot, narrowly missing her smirking brother and laughing as he leaped out of her way. "Who's the priss now?" she murmured and turned the radio on to a classic rock station.
Micah chuckled. "What was your life like, growing up with so many brothers? I can't begin to imagine. I don't have any brothers or sisters."
"It was hell on earth." She gave a laugh and then tipped her head to the side, thinking. "Not really, I suppose. They watch out for me, though sometimes a little too closely. And they taught me how to skate and work on cars and where to kick a guy if he gets too fresh."
"Ouch." Micah winced.
"Better that, than what would happen if my brothers caught up with him." She shrugged. "Still, they tend to hover and they still think I'm delicate and needy."
"You? Delicate?" He reached out and squeezed her biceps. "I find that hard to believe."
"Exactly." Even through her jacket, she felt the warmth of his touch. She edged her arm away. "Why do you think my mother was so happy when I decided to take your cooking classes? She despairs that I'll ever be the girl she always wanted." She pulled onto the highway and sped toward their call, not giving him a glance. She was afraid her eyes might show just how much even the casual touch of his hand affected her.
"You have to be able to cook to be a girl?" Micah raised an eyebrow. "What does that make me?"
"Dave thinks he doesn't have to worry about my virtue with you around." The side of Cori's mouth twitched in half a smile until Micah trailed a finger down her cheek. Damn if just that little caress didn't set her body on fire. She swallowed the lump of desire in her throat. She should never have let him ride along.
"Little does he know."
Cori silently agreed.
The night passed more quickly than she'd have thought possible, considering how keyed up she was with Micah next to her the entire time. He was good company and made her laugh.
He didn't, even once, try to kiss her again. She wasn't sure if she was insulted or relieved.
As the sun crested the horizon, she pulled into the shop. It wasn't Dave waiting for her this time, it was Zach. He stood in the same place, with a duplicate cup of coffee and a twin look of contempt on his face.
She really loved her siblings. Sometimes she forgot how much. She stopped the truck, jumped out and trotted over to her eldest brother.
"It's about time you got here." He snorted. "You were due twenty minutes ago."
"You're awfully cute, you know that?" She leaned in and hugged him around the waist. "Thanks for the coffee." She snagged the steaming mug out of his hands, ignoring his loud protests.
The passenger door of the tow truck slammed shut, so Cori knew Micah must be coming over to join them. She braced herself for Zach's derision.
"That your van?" Zach pointed.
"Yes." Micah replied. He appeared to be waiting for the punch line.
"Needed a battery."
"So I was told."
Cori watched the conversation bat back and forth like a tennis ball, ready to step in if Micah needed help. So far, so good.
"I was bored, so that eyesore is fixed. The bill's inside."
"Great. Thanks." Micah turned to smile at Cori. "Wonderful service at this shop. I'll recommend you to my friends. But, now, I need to get home and crash." He took her hand in his, lifted it and kissed the back, then flipped it palm up and pressed his lips to her wrist.
The gesture sent shockwaves through her body, and she stood completely paralyzed by them until Zach laughed, one sharp bark. At that derisive sound she yanked her hand away. She rubbed the back furiously on her jeans, but that didn't erase the heat from his lips, or keep her stomach from tumbling.
"Yeah. Okay. See you next week. In class." Please don't let him do anything else that would get her ribbed even further. The kiss-on-the-hand-thing was sure to make the rounds as soon as Zach could scare up one or more of the brothers on the radio.
Micah smiled and brushed her shoulder with his fingertips as he followed Zach into the shop to pay. Just barely on time, her youngest brother, Nick, zipped into the parking lot. It was his turn to drive the truck and he tossed her the keys to the family car.
"Night, night, sleepyhead." He grabbed her and gave her a noogie.
"Jerk," she muttered, but there was undeniable affection in her voice.
She all but ran to the car, wanting to get out of there before she saw Micah again. He was all wrong for her, and she needed time to get her hormones under control. This way, she'd have six days.
"You did what?" Cori shrieked at Zach and Nick when they got home that evening.
"We invited your boyfriend to play football tomorrow." Zach wiggled his eyebrows and grabbed her hand, slobbering kisses all over it.
"Yuck." She yanked it away. "He's not my boyfriend."
Loud snickers followed that little proclamation, and Cori's cheeks heated despite her attempts to keep calm. You'd think she'd have learned how to deal with her brothers by now.
"Does he know that?" Nick asked. "He was giving you googly eyes."
Cori decided her best bet was to ignore that little dig. "He's not a football player, he's a cook." She wanted to deck one or both of them, knock those smirks off both their faces. "Is he coming? Tell me he's not coming."
"He's not coming," said Zach.
"You're lying."
He shrugged and grinned. "Well, yeah. But you said---"
"Uninvite him." She jabbed him in the chest.
"Why?" asked Nick. "Are you scared the pretty boy will get hurt?"
"Will you ever grow up?" Cori looked at them, standing there, gloating. "You're going to do something to him, aren't you?" And then she remembered. "Oh, no. Steve's going to be there." When Nick smothered a laugh with one meaty hand she punched him in the stomach, pleased at the rush of air he expelled. "You did this on purpose."
"Well, yeah." He shrugged and looked at his brother who also shrugged.
"Tweedledee and Tweedledum," she muttered. Idiots.
Steve, her ridiculously jealous, enormously huge, indescribable creep of an ex-boyfriend---who just happened to be close friends with each and every one of her brothers, except Eric who seemed to have a good head on his shoulders---would pound Micah into the ground if he so much as looked at Cori sideways.
"Then I won't go." That would stop this foolishness.
"Good. If you're not there with your weak stomach, we won't have to worry about blood." Nick elbowed Zach and grinned.
She stomped her foot in frustration. "Oooh."
"See you there, sis." Zach yawned and rubbed his ribcage. "I'm hitting the hay."
"Wimp." Nick jabbed his brother in the gut. "I'm hitting the bar."
They walked away in separate directions. She closed her eyes in dread at the thought of tomorrow. What had Micah been thinking, accepting their invitation. Did he think they were being friendly? He seemed like a smart guy. How could he be so stupid? Hadn't she warned him that her brothers were overprotective? Did the guy have a death wish?
Despite her attempts to hold back the dawn by not sleeping all night, the sun eventually rose and signaled the beginning of what might end up being the worst day of her life. It was ironic. She'd thought the day she'd broken up with Steve for whaling on a customer who flirted with her ranked as her worst day. Or maybe the time he hadn't wanted to take "no" for an answer. But today? Today might just take the prize.
Maybe Steve would be sick or hung over and stay home. Yeah, and maybe the sun was rising in the west.
Cori stumbled downstairs and followed her nose to the coffee pot and fresh baked cinnamon rolls. "Man, Mom, if I was a guy, I'd marry you." She picked up a roll. It was still so hot she had to juggle the tasty treat before taking a bite. "Oh yeah, no day that starts like this can end up being rotten. Can it?"
"Don't bet on it." This from her brother, Eric, the logical one and the only family member who didn't work at the garage. Today, dressed in torn sweat pants and an old tee shirt, he didn't look like a stock broker. "The bottom can always fall out of a bull market no matter how strongly trading begins. Sadly, I know this from personal experience."
"Thanks for that cheery thought. What are you doing here? Shannon kick you out?" She finished up the roll and grabbed another, along with a fresh cup of coffee.
"There was no way I was missing the game today. I hear it should be a doozy." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Zach said you have a new boyfriend, and we're breaking him in."
Looked like the grapevine was buzzing with news. That meant Cal and Dave would be there, too. Hopefully, they'd bring their wives so Cori would have some backup. "I'm going to shower and get dressed."
"Gonna wear makeup for the pretty boy?" Josh, older than Nick by ten months, snickered and fluttered his eyelashes. "Or maybe he'd like me better. I hear he's a cooking teacher."
"Yeah, you are prettier than I am, Joshie. Maybe you should doll up a bit."
"Corinne Anne," her mother said, in that soft but stern voice mothers have perfected. "I expect rude behavior from your brothers, but you should know better, young lady."
"Yeah," Nick said with a snort. "Young lady."
Their mother smacked Nick smartly on the knuckles with her wooden spoon when he reached for another roll. "No more for you, smart mouth. Go take out the garbage."
"Oh, Mom," he protested, but despite the fact he was twenty-three and six inches taller than she, he just bowed his head and did as he was told.
One by one, her brothers were getting married and leaving home. Three down and three to go. And then there was her, without a prospect in sight. Micah didn't count, since he wasn't her type. And six older brothers scared off a lot of guys. Since the fiasco with Edward, Steve had been the only one who'd stuck it out more than a couple of dates. And, gee, wasn't he a winner?
Her mind drifted to Micah. He was the opposite of everything she'd dreamed of, yet she still yearned for him. Besides the heat he generated in her and how she felt incredibly feminine when he was around, he also made her feel incompetent and out of place. Not on purpose, he was far too polite for that. But he was so capable where she wasn't. Never mind that he didn't know an alternator from a carburetor. Lots of people didn't. But most everyone could boil water without messing it up.
Well, for sure after today he wouldn't be giving her a second glance anyway. Not after her brothers pounded him into the ground. She insisted it was relief she felt, not sadness, but knew she was lying the moment she thought the words.
Calling herself a hundred kinds of fool, she stripped out of her flannel pajamas and climbed into the shower.
She purposely didn't even wear lip gloss and opted to put on her rattiest pair of shorts. Sure, they showed a bit more leg than the rest, and she'd been told her legs were her best feature. That was incidental. The shorts were three years out of style and grass-stained beyond belief.
Micah was waiting when they arrived at the park, his orange van screaming for attention. He wore clean, very possibly brand-new clothes and sparkling white sneakers. She wasn't sure, but thought she saw creases ironed down the front of his shorts. Dear heavens.
Cori and three of her brothers piled out of the family truck just as Eric pulled into the parking lot with Josh. Micah stood up to greet them. Considering the sheer mass of testosterone on its way to check him out, she gave the guy serious points for bravery.
Or maybe it was stupidity.
Either way, he smiled and stuck out his hand when Zach got to him first. And then he grimaced when the bones in his hand were crushed together. Zach was by far the biggest jerk of the bunch. Must come from being oldest and having the most practice in tormenting others. She'd sure been on his radar growing up.
"Micah." Cori stepped forward and bumped her brothers out of the way. "What kind of idiot are you, coming here?"
"It's great to see you again, too." He smiled, but she saw hurt in his eyes.
She was sorry to have put the pain there. But if he thought her words were painful, wait until he was tackled the first time. "Walk with me." She knew the words sounded like an order. They were meant to.
"I don't think so." He shrugged. "I'm here to play some ball with your brothers. Not take a walk." With that, he turned his back and jogged to the field. Her brothers followed, with Josh giving a goofy wave of his fingers while he jogged backward.
Micah was in so much trouble, the idiot. She was only trying to help, didn't he see that?
Thick arms grabbed her from behind and lifted, squeezing her so tightly she couldn't breathe. When lips nuzzled her ear, she flung her head back and slightly to the side, smiling when he cried out in pain and loosened his grip. She fell to the ground and rolled away.
"Dammit, Cori," Steve whined, one hand on his now bloody nose. "Why'd you have to do that?"
She got to her feet and made sure she stayed out of arms reach of her ex-boyfriend. "You don't have permission to touch me anymore. Remember?"
"When are you going to get over being mad and come back, baby?" He stripped off his tee shirt and used the clean yellow cotton to wipe blood off his face.
It was only natural that she admired his nice, tight body. Right up until she remembered the night, a few days after they'd broken up, when that body had pinned hers up against a wall. Her brothers still didn't know about that little incident, because if they'd found out, Steve wouldn't be breathing. Of course, her brothers would also be behind bars, which is why she'd taken care of the problem herself---her and a knee to his crotch.
She'd never been so grateful for her bony knees in all her life.
"I'm never going out with you again. Ever." She moved back when he stepped forward. "I know you have a hard head, but you need to find a way to get that simple fact through it." She turned and sprinted for the field, knowing Steve wouldn't try anything around Zach and the rest of the gang.
They split into even teams, brains versus brawn, she decided with a smirk. She played on the team with Micah, Eric, and Dave. Zach, Steve, Nick and Josh thought they had the game won, just by sheer size. They were wrong.
They played hard and they played dirty. After only thirty minutes, Steve wasn't the only one with blood on his clothes. The game was tied, and Cori was exhausted and sweaty. Even though the weather was fairly cool for late September in Sacramento, the sun was still shining and beat down mercilessly on their bodies.
"We have one more play." Eric swiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt and looked each of his teammates in the eye. "I say we pass to Cori and let her run the ball in for a score. They won't expect that move, and she's the fastest runner."
"Fake a pass to me," Micah put in. "I'm next fastest, and they'd expect that. I'll draw them away from her. Give her a better chance to make it into the end zone."
"You're asking to be creamed," Eric warned.
Micah shrugged. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep them away from Cori."
"I don't need your protection," Cori muttered, despite being strangely flattered that he wanted to keep her safe.
"You're going to get it, whether you need it or not." Micah's jaw flexed and released, flexed and released.
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and nodded to her brother. "It's a good plan. Let's do it."
They all put one hand in the middle and yelled, "Break!"
The plan worked like a charm. Everyone moved toward Micah when Eric pumped the ball in his direction, and Cori grinned as she caught the pass and took off running.
Unfortunately, Steve seemed to have a sixth sense about where she was and noticed the move first. Despite his size, he was fast, and the last thing she wanted was to be tackled by him. He'd undoubtedly use the excuse to give her a hearty pelvic grind while she was beneath him.
She dodged and swerved and had the end zone in her sights, but Steve was breathing down her neck.
And then, suddenly, he wasn't.
She stepped across the goal line and looked over her shoulder. Micah lay, unmoving, in the turf. Steve pushed up out of the grass beside Micah and prodded his shoulder with the toe of one stained sneaker. Cori's brothers approached, and Eric knelt down beside Micah's supine body.
Cori ran to the group of guys. "What did you do?" she screamed at Steve, giving him a hard shove.
He stumbled back a step and laughed. "I didn't do anything except fall on him a little," Steve sneered. "It's not my fault he's so skinny."
"You jerk." She knelt down beside Micah just as he groaned and lifted his head.
"Why are there two of you? One's more than enough." He mumbled the words through dried, cracked lips.
"Boy, he has you figured," Zach said.
Cori snorted and smacked Micah's shoulder with the back of her hand. "Guess you're feeling okay, then. You jerk."
He sat up, wobbled a little and then steadied. "Did you score?"
"Of course."
"Then we won." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Great. That's worth every bruise."
Cori couldn't believe he was so calm about being knocked out. He'd scared the dickens out of her and he had the nerve to be jovial about losing consciousness? "You're going to have a black eye."
"Really?" He sounded pleased and touched fingers to his face where it was already beginning to bruise.
She huffed and stood up. "I give up. Men are imbeciles."
"I'm going to have my first black eye." His voice was loud and happy.
"Your first?" Zach said. "Really? That's cause for celebration. Join us for a beer? Cori can drive Eric's car home."
Cori caught the keys Eric tossed her way. With a groan, she marched in the direction of the car. Her steps faltered at Micah's affirmative answer to Zach. She should do something. Her brothers would drink Micah under the table. Then she remembered that men were idiots and decided to let him learn that for himself. She'd see him the next week at cooking class---if he survived.
With a yawn and a long stretch that cracked half the bones in her body, Cori stumbled out of bed the next morning. Man, was she stiff from the game yesterday. Only twenty-one and already old and out of shape. Only one thing to do. Fake it, or her brothers would never let her live her aches and pains down, especially since she was the baby.
She needed some liquid fortification and she could smell the coffee---go juice, nectar of the gods---from inside her room. Bacon, too. Mom was up early, a blessing since Cori was due to work first thing that morning.
Without bothering to so much as tug a robe over her knee-length nightshirt, she meandered down the hall and into the kitchen.
"Morning, Mom! Breakfast smells awesome!" she called the moment she stepped through the doorway, and then stopped dead in her tracks. "What...what..."
"Good morning." Micah threw her a grin over one shoulder, then turned back to the stove and messed with whatever he was cooking in the pan on the front burner.
His lopsided smile did things to her insides, and she pressed a hand to her stomach to settle its tumbling. "Why are you here?" Cori resisted the urge to run fingers through her surely messy hair and instead curled them into fists at her sides. After all, a fist would come in handy for slugging whichever brother had invited Micah home.
"I was the designated driver, but didn't have my own car." He shrugged, his back still turned to her. "Nick told me to crash on the couch and that you'd take me to the van on your way into work."
"Oh, Nick did, did he?" Now she knew who to use the fist on. "Where's my mom?"
Micah tipped his head toward the door, hands moving in a sure rhythm in front of him. "Getting the morning paper."
As if on cue, the front door opened and closed quietly and slippered footsteps padded in the direction of the kitchen. Cori turned as her mom approached with a disapproving look on her face.
"Corinne Anne. What are you doing here, in the kitchen, in your nightclothes?" She swatted Cori with the paper.
"I always come to the kitchen in the morning in my pajamas, Mom." Though she had to admit that normally there wasn't a great-looking, unrelated guy cooking breakfast. She refused to let her mom see how mortified she was by the situation.
"Not when we have company." Her mom looked at Micah and then back at her "Go get dressed, young lady."
Cori sighed. "I didn't know we had company, Mom. Can I at least get a cup of coffee first? Please?"
"No." The word was delivered with another swat. "Now, get. And don't come back until you're decent."
Cori snarled and stormed back down the hallway. Maybe finding her own apartment wasn't such a bad idea after all, despite the cost. No brothers. No rules. No newspaper beatings. Privacy.
No mom to clean house and cook. No carpooling.
So, okay, there was good and bad. She'd give the move some thought, weigh the pros and cons. First, though, clothes. She was dying for coffee and a taste of whatever Micah was cooking for breakfast. It smelled amazing.
By the time she showered, changed and brushed on a bit of lip gloss---despite the fact her brothers would tease her mercilessly about that move---nearly half an hour had gone by. She hurried to the kitchen and hoped the food was still at least warm.
Her brothers filled the room. In fact, even a couple of the married ones were there with their wives. They all held plates and conversation was at a minimum. Everyone was too busy stuffing food in their mouths.
"Did you leave any for me?" she demanded and pushed her way through all the bodies. Nothing in the pan on the stove. Shoot.
"I did." Micah whispered, his mouth only inches from her ear.
The puff of breath from his words sent shivers down her spine, and when he wrapped an arm around her to hand her a plate of food she had to fight against the desperate urge to lean into him. If there hadn't been an audience, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to resist the temptation. For a change, she was grateful for her brothers' presence as a deterrent to her foolishness.
"Thanks." She accepted the offering but didn't turn to look at him. Why wouldn't he move away?
"You look good." He leaned a little closer, something Cori hadn't thought possible, and sniffed at her hair. "Smell good, too."
Unable to stop the shiver of arousal his nearness caused, she took a deep breath to calm herself. If he didn't stop, she was going to attack him despite the audience.
"Hey!" Zach shouted and shoved Micah to the side. "Back away from my little sister."
Micah tightened his arm around Cori's waist and dragged her a few inches to the left. "Not unless she tells me to."
"Stupid," she murmured. "Taking on a room full of big brothers."
"Bet you're worth the risk." His mouth moved against her hair. "Want to run away with me?"
Cori's heart gave a little leap, but she tamped the unwanted excitement down. He was surely joking, so she responded in kind. "Not until I eat first. This food looks way better than you do."
"Ooh..." Nick leaned over and wiggled his eyebrows. "Ouch. Score one for my little sister. Hey, Zach! She doesn't need our help."
Although Cori jabbed at Nick with her elbow, she didn't say a thing because her mouth was full of the absolute best omelet she'd ever eaten in her life. How was it possible the guy could take the same exact ingredients as she did and make a masterpiece, while hers was just barely edible? It wasn't fair.
She gradually pried herself away from his embrace and made her way across the room, as far as humanly possible from Micah. The distance between them allowed her nerves to settle down to a low jangle. She felt this crazy around him and she had to drive him back to his van? Alone? The tow truck cab, typically plenty large, would never be big enough for her comfort if Micah was along.
"Yo, Josh." Cori elbowed the brother nearest her. "Want to drive along today? Keep me company?"
He snorted. "You joking? Like I don't have anything better to do." He jabbed his fork into the last bite of egg on her plate and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Hey!" she protested and smacked him in the chest with the back of one hand. "Jerk. That was mine."
"Corrine Anne!" her mother snapped. "If you can't refrain from name-calling, you're not welcome in my kitchen."
"He started it." She wrinkled her nose at Josh.
"Did not." He stuck out his tongue, keeping his back to his mother so she couldn't see.
Cori growled and put her plate in the sink. "I'm leaving. Anyone needing a ride comes now or walks." She stomped out of the kitchen, half-hoping Micah wouldn't follow. And half-praying he would.
She heard a plate smack down on the counter and footsteps behind her. Looked like Micah was coming after all. Her heart gave a leap before she could admonish it not to get its hopes up. Micah was way out of her league, despite her attraction to him.
She reached for the door knob and twisted, but before she could yank the thing open, Micah's hand landed on hers and held her still.
"Hey. Slow down a bit." He slipped his fingers between hers and pulled her hand away. "Why do you let them get you so riled? That's the main reason why they mess with you, you know."
"I've lived with older brothers my whole life." She tried, and failed, to tug her hand out of his. For a skinny guy, he was pretty strong. "I know why they do what they do. I don't need advice or anything else from you."
"It's me you're mad at, isn't it?"
She didn't look at him, studying the scuffed toes of her work boots instead. His understanding, gentle tone made her ashamed of her behavior.
"Cori." He released her hand and grabbed her shoulders instead, turning her toward him. When she still didn't look up, he tipped her head back with a warm finger on her chin. "Hey."
"What?" She hated that she sounded like a sullen five-year-old, but couldn't seem to help herself.
"Do you really hate having me around?" He tilted his head to one side, staring so hard she was sure he saw right into her soul.
She shrugged. Not really an answer, but the only one she was willing to give, because the truth was---she liked having him around far too much.
"Because, if you honestly do, I can go back to being Mr. DePalma, cooking instructor. Just say the word."
"Any word in particular or do I get to choose one?"
The look he gave her silenced the next sarcastic remark sitting right on the tip of her tongue. Instead she growled low in her throat. "Fine. Gah. I don't know what I want, Micah." She extricated herself from him and opened the door. "And I'm not going to discuss this anywhere near any of my brothers."
"Then let's go." He held out his hand in a gesture for her to precede him.
She was conscious of his eyes on her the entire walk to the tow truck. She didn't know what she wanted from him, that was the God's truth. He wasn't like any guy she'd known before. Her brothers and Steve---they were rough and loud and rude. Strong and completely male.
Micah was smooth and handsome and unconcerned that her brothers thought he was a girly-girl because he cooked and taught for a living. She wasn't sure how she felt about that either.
And why would he possibly like being around her? She was hopeless in the kitchen, hated cleaning, didn't know how to iron. What could he possibly see in her? When he got to know her, he'd dump her. The same scenario had happened before, when she was in junior college and had the poor judgment to get mixed up with Edward, a guy who was starched white collar all the way with a silver spoon tucked into his tuxedo pocket. They'd dated awhile, and he'd made lots of promises, but when he'd met her family he'd backpedaled so fast he'd left skid marks outside the house.
No way was she going to hook up with Micah and have her heart broken again. She'd be better off with someone like Steve, minus the whole forced sex and super-sized jealousy thing.
She clambered into the seat and strapped in, Micah following close behind. Her shoulders bunched around her ears, her back ramrod straight. She was ridiculously uncomfortable with this whole situation but couldn't seem to extricate herself.
"Where's your van?" she asked.
"You're not getting off that easy, Cori." Micah secured his seat belt and stared at her. "Go ahead and drive, if you must, but we need to talk."
Cori swore she heard the theme from Jaws. "There's nothing to talk about. You're so not my type."
"What if you're mine?"
She refused to look at him and, instead, started the engine. She pulled out onto the street and headed north toward the highway. "Where to, Mr. DePalma?"
He sighed noisily. "Go north and get off at exit seven. I left the van at my house when I went home to change, so you're taking me home."
Ha. He gave up nice and easy. See, she told herself in an attempt to soothe her aching psyche, he wasn't in for the long haul. She kept her eyes fixed on the road, refusing to give in to the tears that threatened. Because she wasn't watching him, the warm hand on her thigh made her jump and jerk the steering wheel to one side. His touch sent shocks of electricity up and down her body.
"Cripes!" She straightened back out. "Are you trying to get us killed?" She flashed an angry look at him, disgusted to see him grinning widely.
"Nope. Just needed to touch you, to make sure you're warm. You're being awfully frosty today."
"No more than usual." She wiggled her thigh as far over as possible in an attempt to get away from his touch. "Would you stop that? I don't like your hands on me."
"Liar." He smiled, but pulled away from her. "What is it about me that sets you on edge?"
"Nothing." She threw both hands in the air for a moment before returning them to the wheel. "Everything. You're all I'm not. Don't you see? I'm not like you, and I won't ever fit in. The moment you took me into your fancy-schmancy world and I used the wrong fork, our relationship would be all over."
"You're making assumptions about something you know nothing about."
"Am I wrong?" she challenged.
"About which part?"
"All of it! Any of it." She thumped the steering wheel in frustration. "I know your type. A guy like you would leave me hanging if I embarrassed you in front of your family."
"So you're dumping me before that happens? Ending our relationship before it even gets a chance to begin, just so I'm not the one doing the ending? You think that makes it hurt less, makes you smarter?"
"Yes." She shook her head. "No. I don't know what you're talking about, here. There's no relationship. We barely know each other. If this stupid touchy-feely stuff hadn't happened, maybe we might have been friends. But not now."
"You think you know me so well." His voice was a low growl. "You don't know anything about me, Cori, because you haven't taken the time to find out."
She maneuvered the truck onto the highway and refused to answer. Maybe she didn't know him all that well, but she knew his type. She'd had her heart broken by his type. She hated his type, even if she liked him. And, darn if she didn't like him.
He brushed her hair away from her face, his unexpected touch making her jump. When she glanced sideway at him, he said, "If you're repulsed by me, that's one thing. But I don't think you are." He jabbed her shoulder to get her attention when she looked away.
"Why do you care what I feel?" She kept a tight rein on her temper, but only just managed to not shriek the words at him. "There must be a hundred girls out there who would love to date you." Like I do, she tacked on silently. "Why not them?"
His fingers stopped jabbing at her and drew a line of goose bumps down her arm to her hand. "Because they aren't you. They're average, dull. You're not. You intrigue me."
How did he know the exact thing to say to let all the heat out of her anger? "Oh, Micah."
He reached out and took her hand. She let him keep it. They drove, connected but silent, except when Micah murmured directions, the rest of the way to his house.
She was surprised to find that, although he lived in a really nice part of town, he had a very modest home. The postage-stamp lawn was neat as a pin, with perfectly trimmed bushes and tidy flower gardens.
"Wow, who's your landscaper?" She turned off the engine and hopped down from the truck, unable to resist a closer look. She and her mom tried to keep up their own yard, but never seemed to manage to green up their black thumbs.
Micah joined her, squatting down in front of a garden full of flowers in riotous pinks and purples. "I am." He gently touched the petals of one flower on a compact rose bush, before plucking the blossom and handing it to her.
She couldn't help but be charmed. She took the sweet gift from him and pressed it to her nose. The flower smelled even better than it looked, which was saying something. She hadn't gotten flowers from anyone in a very long time. Her family and friends usually gave her practical gifts like seat covers or tools. They didn't see her as frivolous. Or feminine.
Micah did.
She lifted her eyes up without moving her head and found him watching her. How was it possible that this man she barely knew had managed to peel back her outer layers to find the woman underneath, when no one else ever had?
She knew then she'd look back someday and know for certain that she began her tumble into love while looking over a rose. And that thought made her all but leap out of her skin. She couldn't fall for this man.
"So." She dropped her hand with the flower to her side. "Slumming it?"
His soft smile faded at her words. "Excuse me?"
"You obviously don't belong here. Did Mommy and Daddy lengthen the leash a little and let you play at being middle-class? Or are you house-sitting for a friend?"
He gave a small shake of his head, and his lips twisted into a hard line. "Fine. You want to be contentious? To end things this way? You got it. I don't have the energy to fight you any more." He shrugged. "You win. Happy?"
Cori's chest ached with the pain of her heart breaking, but better now, before she was desperately attached, than later on when losing him would do more than ache. It would kill her to let him leave after spending more time together.
"You bet I am. And now, I'm gone." She pivoted on her heel and started for the truck, completely oblivious to the world around her. So, when Micah grabbed her arm and yanked her against him, she was so surprised she forgot to struggle.
"You're an idiot." He whispered the words against her lips the moment before he crushed them with his own.
If she'd thought his first kiss was hot, she hadn't realized the full potential of that mouth. The heat from his lips, his tongue, his hands, consumed her from the inside out. She burned for him---moth to flame. Part of her knew she should fly away from this inferno that would devour her, but she couldn't do more than hold on tight.
Her arms slipped around his waist, her hands crept up to his shoulders and clung. If she let go, she would surely tumble to the ground. Her fingertips brushed his hair, and she was aware of every nerve ending in her body, each attuned to him.
His hands moved from her shoulders to her butt, cupping the curves, caressing them, and tucking her firmly against him. She opened to him, her mouth, her arms, her heart, and let him in. She rubbed her pelvis against his, brutally aroused by the embrace.
He snaked a hand under her shirt, soft fingertips kneading her back, pressing her even closer. She couldn't get enough of him. She grabbed his head and held him in place, turning her head to deepen the kiss. Their tongues mated frantically, and when his hand slipped up her waist to brush the side of her breast she inhaled sharply.
And then she was free.
She stumbled back, tripped over the curb and fell to the hard pavement, rapping her head on the tow truck bumper.
"What the---" She rubbed the back of her head with one hand, and her chest with the other. She wasn't sure but that her chest with its bruised heart hurt more than her head. Her head was tougher.
"Goodbye, Cori." Micah, usually a gentleman, stood over her and didn't even offer a hand up. His eyes were sad, the saddest she'd ever seen, but his jaw was set and his lips pressed together. Determined.
With one last long look, he turned and left her sitting in the gutter with nothing but a lump on her skull and a broken heart.
"'Bye, Micah," she whispered and climbed to her feet, trying to be glad things had worked out the way she'd wanted.
He was gone. And that was good.
But the fact he'd done exactly as she'd asked didn't make her feel any better.
Micah didn't lose his cool until he made it inside with the door closed behind him. He refused to let that foolish woman know how badly her attitude upset him. Once inside, though, he grabbed for the nearest thing he could find---an umbrella from the stand beside the door---and chucked it as hard as he could against the wall. With the precision of a professional knife-thrower, he managed to stab the pointed top right into the drywall. The umbrella hung there for a moment, then slowly fell to the floor, taking a big chunk of the entryway wall with it.
"Well, hell." He scrubbed fingers through his hair. "Couldn't do that again if I tried." He shook his head and laughed.
"Micah!" His mother's horrified voice sounded from the living room doorway. "What have you done?"
"Torn a hole in my wall, apparently." He stifled a sigh, utterly exhausted and not in the mood to deal with his mother right at the moment. Not that he had a choice, since she was camped in his house. He'd stupidly given her a key for emergencies when he'd bought the house, and she used it with great regularity. Perhaps today would be a good day to ask for it back. "What are you doing here this early?"
She drew herself up and pursed her lips. "Waiting for you. Where have you been?"
He twisted his mouth into a bitter smile. "At a friend's house, Mother. Though I'm not certain why I have to account for my whereabouts to you. I am an adult, after all." He shrugged out of his windbreaker and hung it in the entryway closet before joining his mother in the other room. She wasted no time in getting down to business.
"I'm having a dinner party next Saturday. I need you to cater and be a sixth." She pulled out her BlackBerry and began pressing keys. "I'll expect you at four to begin cooking and I've emailed you the menu."
"What if I'm busy?"
She barely lifted her gaze, but did arch one eyebrow. "You're never busy."
Micah snorted. Boy, that comment, along with the tone in which it was delivered, sure said something about his pathetically underwhelming social life. "I am now." Or, he would be. He'd make certain of that, no matter if he had to pick up garbage on the riverbank.
"Busy with that low-class truck driver I saw you with outside? Who is she, anyway? I couldn't see her face for all your...coziness."
Well, hell. Seemed Cori had his mother pegged. Wouldn't that be a problem when he brought her home for dinner? Good thing he didn't care. "What difference does it make who she is or what she does for a living?"
"It makes a world of difference, Michelangelo Frederic DePalma." She jammed her fists onto her bony hips, eyes wide. "People like her don't fit in with people like us."
Micah laughed at his mother's outrage. "Good grief, Mother. I don't fit in with people like us. And yet you insist on forcing my attendance at your parties. Why would Cori be any different?"
When she opened her mouth to respond, he held up a hand. "Never mind. I'm tired and want to lie down for a bit. I'll cook for your party, but will need to be done by two. You can hire someone else to serve. If that won't work with your schedule, you'll need to find another caterer." He wrapped an arm around her nearly non-existent shoulders and guided her to the front door. "Have a good day."
Before she could complain, he pushed her gently out of the house and closed the door behind her. A few moments later, he realized he'd forgotten to ask for his key. He'd do it on Saturday.
Right now, he needed to plan his attack on Cori's heart. With a smile, he wandered into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
---
Cori dragged herself through the next three days, welcoming the normality of the dull day-to-day routine. Still, it must have been apparent she was miserable, because even her brothers' teasing was minimal and they, every now and then, did something nice for her without being asked.
It didn't help that she seemed to stumble over bits of Micah everywhere she went. Tuesday, she came home from work to find the front of the house landscaped differently. It was lovely. New bushes guarded the steps. Riots of flowers filled the area in front of the porch.
"Wow, Mom!" Cori said as she walked into the kitchen and scooped up a fresh-baked cookie. "You outdid yourself today."
"Actually, it was all Micah. He brought flats of stuff from the garden place up the road and roped Josh, Zach and Nick into helping." Her mother finished carefully placing dabs of cookie dough on parchment paper and slipped the pan into the waiting oven. "He's a wonderful boy. Maybe his manners will rub off on your brothers."
And then, her mother did the worst thing yet. She handed Cori a potted rose plant and card. "He said to give this to you when you got home."
The card was nothing, really. Just a silly ditty about dogs and plants. But it was clear he'd chosen it carefully and with her in mind. Cori tucked the card into a drawer, and put the plant on her nightstand.
The miniature rosebush was the first thing she saw each morning, and the last when she closed her eyes to sleep.
He was all wrong for her. So why did her heart refuse to cooperate?
If she kept busy enough, she forgot what a fool she was, forgot about Micah and his laugh, his face, his touch. It was the down time she dreaded. The times when she was on that border between sleep and awake, when her mind was allowed to drift.
Everything came back to her then and in great detail. There wasn't a thing she forgot about the time they'd spent together---from the goofy smile he'd given when she'd told him he'd have a black eye to the gentle touch of a finger drifting down her arm. But it was his eyes she remembered most. His warm, whiskey eyes that hid nothing. She remembered the look in them before he kissed her and the misery in them the moment he'd walked away.
She'd known he would walk away. Was glad their break-up had happened when it did, before she could really fall for the man. She hated that she was right about him. But, had he called? Tried to reach her? Had he made any real effort to win her back?
Have you made an effort? whispered a tiny voice in her mind. She shushed the blasted thing. That wasn't the point. He supposedly wanted her, so why didn't he fight for her? Just showed she was right. And, she thought with a laugh, being right was a great comfort to her every day she spent alone and every night she dreamed about him.
And time crept by. She skipped cooking class that week, despite badgering from her mom. She just wasn't up to seeing him again, especially not in that setting with so many onlookers. Instead, she spent the evening at the shop playing dispatcher for Zach, and missing Micah even more.
Micah grinned as the massive mob of Weathers brothers approached where he stood outside their house. They were loud and obnoxious, as usual, and dressed from top to bottom in Oakland Raiders gear.
"Great idea, this ride," Zach said, and punched him on the shoulder before climbing into the limo they'd hired for the trip to and from the game.
Micah gave himself kudos for only flinching a little. He was learning that he'd always end up a little black and blue if he hung out with these guys. They were a blast, but more physical than he was used to.
He let Zach, Dave, Nick and Eric enter the vehicle first, hoping and watching the house for a sign of Cori. She'd been invited, but he hadn't really held out hope she'd attend. After one last glance over his shoulder---did the curtain in that far room move?---he joined his friends in the limo for the two-hour ride to watch the Raiders beat up on the Broncos.
---
Cori let the curtain drop and climbed off her bed with a sigh. Must be nice to have a friend with season tickets to the Raiders. Nice to be able to afford to rent a limo for the trip. And that fact just went to illustrate, again, how different he was from her. Her brothers really liked him, much to her surprise. He wasn't much of a manly man, yet they were all full of "Micah, this" and "Micah, that". She was glad they enjoyed his company, but it dumped salt on her wound.
She missed his voice. Once, he'd phoned the house and left a message for Nick. She'd played the thing over and over until she realized how ridiculous she was being. She refused to be a lovesick little lamb. And, after the rose plant, he'd never even given anyone a message for her. Seemed he liked their company, but not hers. Of course, he had included her in the invitation---passed on to her through her brothers. He couldn't be bothered to invite her personally, so why would she bother to go?
Instead, she and her pride sat alone all Saturday night, eating popcorn and watching Turner Classic Movies.
Early on Wednesday morning she lay wide awake and staring at the ceiling. Ten days since the last time she'd seen Micah, and she'd been unable to sleep as usual. Giving up trying, she got out of bed and tiptoed to the door to get the paper. When she opened it, a box sat just outside, tied in a huge red bow. What on earth? She leaned down to look more closely, and saw her name on the tag. When she lifted the gift, it cried and she nearly dropped the thing.
She brought the package inside and set it down, prodding it with her toe. Finally, she popped the top open and peeked inside. She smiled and pulled out the gift. A kitten. A tiny, fluffy, smoke gray kitten with bright blue eyes. She cuddled it to her chest with a sigh.
She flipped over the tag on the box to see who it was from, though she was dead certain Micah had done the deed. Who else would have thought she needed a kitten? Or the flowers he'd given her a week ago? Everyone she knew would have given her a wrench or seat covers. Instead of Micah's name though, she saw the words, "My name is Rose."
Roses again. Did he know how the single rose he'd given her had made her feel? Did he realize she'd begun her fall for him in the span of time it'd taken her to smell that rose and look him in the eye?
She stood slowly, still snuggling the kitten to her heart, and made a decision. She needed to tell him "thank you" and there was no time like the present. She dashed to her room and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Keeping the kitten with her, she scribbled a note to her mom and hopped into the family car. In no time at all, she was parked in front of Micah's house.
The moment she set the parking brake, her nerves set in. This was stupid. Crazy. It was early in the morning. She wasn't even positive it was from him. She was being foolish. An idiot. Ridiculous.
"Gah, Rose," she said and pressed her face into the kitten's soft fur. "What do I do now?"
In an instant, the choice was taken from her. The door to Micah's house opened, and he stood silhouetted in the entryway. Just one glance at him and he took her breath away. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and turned in her direction. She'd been noticed and could hardly speed away now. So, with a deep breath, she tucked the kitten more firmly against her chest and stepped out of the car.
"Cori?" He took a few steps toward her, but stopped before he came too close.
Obviously it was up to her to close the distance. So she did. She moved until she stood only a few feet from him and smiled, the corners of her mouth quivering a bit from nervousness. "Hi, Micah."
"Why are you here?" he asked.
She tried to analyze the tone of his voice. Was that a happy "why" or an angry one? She held the kitten out like a shield. "Thanks for Rose."
"Oh." He reached out and ran his fingertips down the kitten's fur. She hated herself for being jealous of Rose's good fortune. "You're welcome."
He wasn't going to make this easy. Cori nearly turned and stormed away. But seeing him again, being close to him...it made her heart feel whole. She couldn't let pride get in her way again.
"I missed you."
"You skipped class last week."
"I wasn't up to it." She hadn't been able to deal with the idea of seeing him again, not after the way she'd messed everything up.
"Oh." He bent and scooped up his paper, using it to gesture behind him. "I have coffee brewing."
Was that an invitation or was he trying to find an excuse to go in without her? And, did she want to go in?
"Hmm..."
Micah sighed. "Would you like a cup?"
Cori chewed on the inside of her cheek, knowing this was a big decision. An important step. Coffee and roses. Who would have known one of the biggest moments in her life would all come down to that?
"Yes." A weight lifted off her shoulders at the decision. "I would."
They walked to the door together, and he waved for her to precede him through. She went in, took a couple more steps and then stopped, hearing the door close behind them. Where should she go?
He moved closer until he was so near she could feel the heat from his body. From behind her, he reached around and stroked the kitten again. She shivered, just a bit, and wished that hand was on her. Without meaning to, she leaned into him and closed her eyes at the feel of his body against hers.
"Cori?" His voice was hoarse.
She turned without losing contact with him, and he took Rose from her grasp. Gaze locked with hers, he squatted and set the kitten on the tile floor, then put his hands on her legs and ran them up her body as he stood.
Her mouth so dry she couldn't speak, Cori just stared and trembled. How was it possible to feel so much? She didn't know if her legs would hold her much longer.
Micah slipped his hand around her back, pressing her to him, and leaned down as if to kiss her. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, her head dropped back bonelessly but nothing happened. She opened her eyes and found his mouth only an inch from hers, his gaze on her face.
"Micah?"
"Your choice, Cori. I'm not doing this without you making the choice this time."
She lifted one hand to his face---his precious, handsome face---and cupped his cheek, stubble rough against her palm. Lips quirking in a fast smile, she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him.
Her warm touch was all the encouragement he needed. He scooped her into his arms, lifting her until they were eye to eye, and the intensity of emotion in his nearly tore her heart in two. Slowly, so slowly it seemed he wasn't even moving, Micah lowered his head and took her lips in a deep and gentle kiss. With a sigh, she opened to him and let him in, body, heart and soul.
She slipped both hands under his tee shirt and up his back, fingertips caressing each vertebra on their way up to cup his shoulder blades. Her short nails dug into his skin when his tongue touched hers. He backed her up against the wall with a thump. She stood sandwiched tightly between him and the wall with his arousal pressed against her.
He pulled back for a moment, and they stared at one another. Cori's breath came in short, noisy gasps.
"What? What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and pressing a hand to his cheek. She felt the movement against her palm when he smiled.
"Nothing." The heated gaze he gave her was as much a caress as a touch would have been. "Absolutely nothing. Everything is perfect."
He gave the hem of her shirt a tug, slowly slipping it up. She knew he was giving her time to say no and she replied by grabbing the shirt and pulling it over her head. Suddenly shy, she chewed on her cheek, all the while wishing fervently for her white cotton bra to magically change into black lace, but Micah didn't seem to mind it. His eyes darkened and he inhaled sharply, reaching out to her.
"You're beautiful. Amazing." He cupped her breasts in his hands and rubbed the nipples through the cotton with gentle thumbs.
Even through the material she felt the heat from his skin and her knees buckled. With a laugh, he lifted her in his arms just like they did in all the best movies.
She responded by raining kisses over every part of his body she could reach. She tugged at his shirt, wanting the offending bit of clothing off but unable to get it past the arms that held her safe.
A sharp knock sounded at the door and it swung open. The cool draft from the early morning air sent goose bumps chasing each other across Cori's naked skin.
"Micah." His mother's voice sounded across the tile entryway. "How many times have I said... Oh, my God!"
Cori squirmed to get down out of Micah's arms, but he wouldn't let her go.
"Good morning, Mother." Micah spoke over Cori's head which was buried in his chest. "How many times have I told you to wait until I answer the door before you come in?"
"Let me down," Cori murmured against his shirt.
"No."
Cori swiveled her head around and pasted on a smile. "Good morning, Mrs. DePalma."
"Micah? Is that the tow truck driver?" His mother took three steps inside and stared at Cori. "Or is she that girl from your cooking class who can't do anything right? The one you told me about who set herself on fire?"
"What? What did you say about me?" Cori shoved at Micah and all but tumbled to the floor. She landed with part of one foot on the kitten, who squawked and ran outside. "Rose!" She grabbed her shirt off the floor and tugged it over her head on her way out the door.
She ran, zigzagging across the lawn in pursuit of the kitten until the little gray puffball took refuge under her car. In no time the critter had squirmed her way into the engine.
"Damn!" Cori crawled underneath and reached up, between the radiator and grill. "Ouch!" She yanked her hand back out of the tight space. How the devil could a kitten fit where her skinny hand couldn't?
"Cori?" Micah's face appeared upside down in the front of the car. "Did you get her?"
"No. Thanks to your mother. And you." She slithered back out and hopped to her feet. "Did you really tell your mother I couldn't do anything right? Is that what you think about me?"
She tried desperately to keep the hurt out of her voice, but only partially succeeded.
"No." He reached out to her.
She stepped away. "Answer me better before you touch me."
He took a breath. "I may have said that, Cori, but only about cooking class."
Her heart cracked just a bit. "I see."
"We all have our strong points." He huffed a sigh and flexed his hands over and over. "You're the most competent person I know when it comes to cars. You play football like Jerry Rice. Your family is amazing. You're amazing."
"I'm incompetent." She just couldn't get past that. "I can't do anything."
"Cori---"
She slapped at the hand he extended. "Just leave me alone. Please."
She walked well around him to the driver side door and yanked it open, then popped the hood and circled back. "Rose, you little scamp, get your fuzzy butt over here."
She dug around in all the little nooks and crannies of the engine compartment until she felt fur. She scruffed the critter and yanked her free, yowls and all. With the kitten tucked into her shirt, she got into the car.
"Hey." Micah stopped the door before it could close completely. "Don't go. Not again."
She only stared at him, keeping her face purposefully blank until he let go of the door. She slammed it shut and sped away home, tail between her legs, feeling more useless now than she could ever remember feeling before.
In no time at all, Thursday night loomed. All day long she desperately tried to slow the minutes down, but before she could say "Bob's your uncle" it was time for her cooking class. She didn't want to go. She'd tried to get one of the guys to swap shifts with her today so she'd have a legitimate excuse to miss and not tick off Mom again, but not one of the jerks would cooperate. She was surprised, since they typically went out of their way to chase off each and every potential boyfriend. Guess they didn't see Micah as a threat.
So she was stuck. Her mother threatened her with sewing class if she missed again. Not to mention there were no cowards in the Weathers family. Darn if she'd be the first.
Cori pulled the tow truck into the school parking lot a full ten minutes early. She couldn't help but look around for Micah's van since the thing stood out like a sore thumb. She didn't see it anywhere nearby, but sometimes he parked around back if he had a lot to lug in. If he was loaded down, it didn't bode well for an easy class, and her brain was not with the program tonight. Hopefully she wouldn't burn the place down.
She dropped her head onto the steering wheel. Who was she fooling? She couldn't go in there and act like nothing had happened yesterday. She couldn't look at Micah and not think of the feel of his mouth on hers, of his hands cuddling her against him, cupping her breasts. Her nipples tightened as she remembered the gentle caress.
But worse, she wouldn't be able to hear him speak without remembering the words that had broken her heart. Maybe she was a coward after all, but the facts were indisputable. She'd rather face her mother's rage than Micah's rejection. She was leaving.
Cori stuck the key back into the ignition and turned the engine over. Just as she'd popped the transmission into reverse, a tapping came at her window. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound.
Dear heavens. Micah stood just outside her truck. She couldn't think what to do. Run? Stay? Talk? Her first instinct was to stomp on the accelerator and get the heck out of Dodge, but she knew she'd run too many times already.
Time to stand her ground.
She turned off the engine and rolled down her window, opting for flippant instead of serious. "Van broken down again?"
He gave a small laugh and shook his head. "I'm not driving it tonight. I borrowed my mother's car."
Witty repartee escaped her and she shrugged. "Oh."
"I've resigned my position as teacher here." He didn't move his gaze from her face, and his look was as intimate as a touch.
"Why?"
"So you can continue the class, regardless of how you feel about me. I'm going to pursue a career as a chef elsewhere. I don't think I'm cut out to teach."
He was leaving? Leaving here? Leaving her? Panic clawed at her throat, trying to escape as a scream. She held the cry at bay and only whispered, "Where?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he climbed up onto the running board and folded his arms on the window, leaning in just enough to make her uncomfortable. And hot. "How are you?"
"Fine. And you?"
"Liar." He reached out his hand and feathered fingertips across her cheekbones. "You've bags under your eyes packed for a week-long vacation."
"I've been busy." She'd die a thousand painful deaths before she admitted she'd been pining after him. She might be a coward, but she still had her pride.
"I've missed you."
"It's only been a day." Tears sprang to her eyes and she slapped them away. She never cried. But he just slipped right through her defenses with those three little words. Not exactly the three words she wanted to hear, but still a good choice on his part. She kept her gaze forward, knowing that if she so much as looked at his face she'd be lost. "Don't, Micah."
"Don't what, Corinne?" He bit off the words, angry for the first time since she'd met him so many weeks before. He'd never sounded this angry, even when she'd nearly ended up in the burn ward at the hospital.
"I'm going to leave." Coward, the voice in her brain shrieked at her and she gave her head a hard shake to shut it up. It didn't work. Idiot, it continued. She pressed her hands over her ears.
"Don't what, Corinne?" He jumped off the running board and yanked open her door.
She scuttled across the seat until her back hit the passenger side door. He was so angry, it frightened her. "Don't do this."
"Don't be hurt that you've given up on us before we even had a chance? Don't be angry that you won't forgive words I said before I knew you?" He climbed into the cab and leaned across the seat until his face was only inches from hers. "Don't think about you? About your smile when you catch a football, or your laugh when you sucker-punch your brothers? About threading my fingers through your hair, or the way you taste? Don't want you so desperately I ache? Don't what?"
She couldn't breathe, not one single molecule. He was stealing all her air. She pressed one hand to her chest to stop the pain, and another to his to keep him back. "It won't work. We're too different, from completely different worlds."
"Thank God for that."
"Your mother would never accept me." She couldn't imagine ever being the sort of society bimbo who would fit in with that woman who'd borne Micah. Cori had a flash of herself in a business suit, hair in a French twist with perfect makeup and a manicure.
Never.
"My mother barely accepts me. I left home at eighteen because I refused to be squeezed into the plan she had for me. I never looked back. Cori, I love my mother but her opinions don't affect my choices." He broke into her thoughts with a laugh and covered the hand she had pressed against his heart. "None of that matters. Don't you understand? You are everything I ever wanted. I just didn't realize what I was looking for until we met."
"You didn't like me when we met," she argued. "All you ever did was yell at me in class."
"Because it was that or kiss you. Why do you think I walked you to your car whenever I could? So I could get to know you."
She thought back and realized they'd had some very civil and occasionally funny conversations on those short trips between the classroom and the car. How had she forgotten? But, still, they'd only really gotten to know each other a few weeks ago. What she felt was impossible and most probably false. You didn't fall in love in a few weeks. Her affection for him would go away in time, like a bad cold.
"Cori?"
She shook her head, mute. The warmth of his touch crept up her arm and into her body, making her shudder with awareness. She'd had her hand held by a dozen men. Why was he so different?
Because you're falling in love with him, came that blasted voice once again.
Well then, she'd just stop. She didn't want to be in love with him. Loving him was inconvenient and uncomfortable.
His thumb made small circles across her knuckles, his eyes boring straight through her pretense and directly to her heart. How could he see her so clearly when she barely knew herself anymore? "I think I started to fall for you that first day, when you used baking powder instead of baking soda. Or maybe when you set your apron on fire. You were so scared, but not of the fire. You were more worried about offending me. And there I was, terrified for you." He laughed a little, a breath of air that reached out and caressed her face. "I yelled. I never yell, but I'd never felt so protective of anyone before. Before I even knew you, you were creeping into my heart. Sneaky wench."
"Micah..." The word was a soft entreaty, but she didn't know whether she was asking him to leave or stay. To hold her or let her go.
He smiled, just a slight quirk of his mouth, but the look was bittersweet. "You have to decide what you want, Cori. I can't make up your mind for you. I know what I want."
Why wouldn't he take the choice out of her hands? She didn't know what she wanted. Should she pull him close or push him away for good? The sudden belief that this was it, the deciding moment, that whatever she did right now would determine whether she would ever see him again, terrified her. Her life was at a crossroads in a way it never had been before. And, worse, she had to decide which way to turn, with no help from anyone else.
She had a sudden vision of the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz movie when Dorothy stood at the fork in the yellow brick road. That way is good, he pointed. This one is okay, too, and he pointed the other way. No help at all.
She was lousy at making decisions. She couldn't decide between slaw or fries at the seafood place down the road, so how could she be trusted to make this choice? The outcome of this would change her entire life.
Why couldn't he just kiss her or leave? Take the choice out of her hands?
Because he'd never be certain of her if he did.
The seconds stretched into hours as she considered. A life as a society wife? Please. A life without Micah? Bleak. She would lose her identity if she stayed with him, but would lose her joy if she left.
She closed her eyes and wished for an answer. His fingertips brushed across her cheeks, a gentle kiss touched first one closed eye, and then the other. In the next moment, the weight of his body lifted from her and the truck rocked back and forth.
He was gone.
Her eyes popped open and she scrambled across the seat. Micah was walking toward an understated silver Mercedes. And away from her. By making no choice, she'd made the worst choice of all.
"Micah!"
His steps faltered but didn't stop. He was almost to his mother's Mercedes.
Cori leaped to the ground, falling to her knees. Tiny bits of gravel on the asphalt dug into the palms of her hands, but she didn't care. She jumped up, brushed them off and ran. "Micah!"
This time he turned. She didn't think, just hurled herself into his arms. She knew he would catch her. He staggered back a few steps, but catch her, he did. She wrapped her arms around his neck and feet around his waist.
She pressed her forehead against his. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't go."
"Cori." The single word carried a wealth of emotion. "I don't want to leave you, but I won't stay where I'm not wanted."
"I want you." She did.
"Will you still, a week from now? A month from now? A year from now?"
A little stunned, she loosened her grip. "What?"
"I'm falling in love, Cori. The ''til death do us part' kind."
Her legs turned to rubber and she sank to the pavement. "What?"
He squatted in front of her, slipped a hand on her cheek. "I don't know why my heart chose you, but it did. There's no going back for me, only forward. And I don't have a map. I don't know where I'm headed, where we're headed. I hate being out of control."
"Oh." Cori pressed a hand over his. "I didn't know."
"You do now."
She nodded. "I don't know what to say."
"Say you feel the same."
She opened her mouth, but he pressed a finger over her lips.
"Only say the words if you mean it, only say them if you're sure. That's not something you should ever lie about." He threaded fingers through her short hair, one calloused thumb caressing circles on her cheek. "What's in your heart for me, Corinne Anne?"
"Oh, Micah." She breathed the words out on a sigh. "Does it mean I'm falling in love with you when you're constantly in my thoughts? When my heart aches at the thought of never seeing you again? When my skin quivers if I think about your touch? Does love make you miserable and happy at the same time?"
His thumb stopped moving against her face, and his fingers clenched.
"Yes." His gaze never left hers.
"Is it love when I'd consider giving up everything I am to be with you, but know I don't have to because you would never ask that of me?" She struggled to her knees and took his hands in hers.
"Yes."
"Does it mean I'm falling in love with you when I can't imagine a future without you in it?"
He nodded.
She shrugged and leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled back---just a few inches, but enough to keep their lips from touching. She vaguely heard the sound of cars coming and going, doors slamming, but it all faded to background noise.
"Say the words, Corinne. Words are powerful and magic."
"I've never said them before." She trembled slightly at the thought. Those words were irrevocable. She'd never said them, because she'd never felt them deep in her soul. Not like now. But she was terrified.
"I won't hurt you, Corinne. Not ever, not intentionally." He flashed a smile. "And I'd never said the words before, either. Turns out it's only hard the first time."
"Micah..."
"Are you falling for me, Cori?"
She filled her lungs with air and then blew it out in a hard sigh. He simply squatted there, staring, waiting. He wasn't letting her slide around the subject. Damn him. "I'm crazy about you, Micah DePalma. And, yes, I'm falling in love with you."
This time, the smile filled his face. "I know you are."
At the smug satisfaction in his voice, Cori pulled back her arm and punched him. "Jerk."
"Nag." The affection in his eyes took the edge off the word. "I wouldn't have you any other way."
He kissed her then. It was different this time, full of emotion and not just heat, though the heat was there and plentiful. She threw herself into the kiss, matching him move for move, pressing her body against his until they fell against the door of the Mercedes, still embracing and oblivious.
Cori couldn't get close enough, even pressed against him, and squirmed against his hard body. While their tongues swirled in a warm mating dance, one she wished was replicated with their naked bodies, she slipped a hand inside the waistband of his pants and tugged up his shirt just enough to touch skin. Her nails curled into his waist and she gave a soft moan against his mouth. He responded by cupping both hands around her butt and pressing her more firmly against his pelvis. She thought she'd go up in flames from the desire burning in her body.
When, after several minutes had passed, Cori finally lifted her head and came up for air, she noticed a crowd had gathered. A few of Micah's students and two of her brothers. Dear heavens, her brothers. As the heat rose in her cheeks, they laughed and applauded.
"Way to go, Mr. DePalma!" shouted one of the students.
"Shameless hussy," muttered Nick. "Ought to lock you in your room until you're thirty."
"A parking lot," said Zach. "To think we were worried about her. Seems she's attacked the poor man, here in public."
Nick nodded. "Looks like she's compromised Micah's honor."
Micah grinned and stood, pulling Cori to her feet along with him. "You'll have to make an honest man of me. Or it's quite possible my faithful seconds will challenge you to a duel." He tucked his loose shirt back into his pants.
"Bet your boots we will." Zach gave a sharp nod.
"Traitors," she accused her brothers and then turned to Micah. "I suppose my hand is forced. But, Micah, we've never even dated."
Micah cupped her face in his hands. "No time like the present, then is there?" And he kissed her again, a promise of forever in his touch.
About the Author
Marianne is originally from California but currently lives in much colder New Hampshire with her husband, daughter, dog and cat, as well as a few hundred wild birds, chipmunks and a backyard bear that keeps trying to grab the feeders. She can't imagine a world without romance or not having stories rattling around in her brain, and she uses comedy to get her through the obscenely long winter.
To learn more about Marianne Arkins, please visit www.mariannearkins.com or her blog: www.reading-writing.blogspot.com, or you join her announcement only Yahoo group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MarianneArkinsNews.
Look for these titles by Marianne Arkins
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One Love for Live
Liv is out to prove her high society fiancé is cheating on her. Can she do it without breaking a nail---or falling in love with Mike the mechanic?
One Love for Liv
© 2008 Marianne Arkins
Olivia "Liv" Leigh, wealthy socialite and spa owner, suspects her fiancé of cheating on her. Drastic steps are required to discover whether appearances are deceiving. And if those steps require a bit of stalking, a change of appearance, a hippo-sized dog named Spike, and sacrificing her manicure to clean house for a sexy-but-sloppy man whose neighbor is determined to break several of the strangest Guinness world records, why should that be a problem?
Mike, a happily single auto mechanic, is more than content sharing his bachelor pad with piles of laundry, dirty dishes, and a sneaky ferret. But when a half-crazed woman in a bad wig shows up on his doorstep, what's a nice guy to do?
Why, invite her in, unknowingly help her in her search for the truth and, in the process, fall head over heels for a woman who's never been less his type.
Enjoy the following excerpt for One Love for Liv:
Liv drove past the VW and parked around the corner. Nervous in these strange surroundings, she stepped out of the car. First one foot cautiously touched the pavement, then the other.
Litter dotted the sidewalk, and she sidled around a huge wad of pink chewing gum that glistened on the cement to her right, practically pulsating in the sunshine. The wooden fence beside her was covered in graffiti, mostly silly scrawls of people's names and the objects of their affections.
With a glance over her shoulder at the beat-up sedan, she gave thanks she wasn't driving the Miata after all. This neighborhood made her terribly uneasy, and her sweet car probably wouldn't last an hour parked on this street.
She hurried up the sidewalk to the corner, grateful for the first time she was wearing sneakers instead of her usual pumps, and peered around to make sure Daisy wasn't looking. Of course, she probably wouldn't recognize Liv, but it was still good to be careful.
She trailed Daisy until the redhead turned up the walk toward the complex and moved behind some thick evergreen bushes. Liv broke into a trot, not wanting to lose her.
As Liv turned the corner, she nearly ran Daisy over. The woman had stopped to check her mail at the wall of mailboxes just outside the complex.
Liv leaped back and slipped between two parked cars, squatting down to hide for a moment until she realized she couldn't see anything. She duck-walked up a few cars until she could lean down to peek underneath and watch Daisy's feet to note when she moved on.
Utterly focused on the sight before her, she had no warning before the driver's door beside her swung open, clipping her sharply on the head. She flew backward, sprawling into the street and thumping her skull on the pavement. Tires squealed nearby as a moving car whipped around her flattened body.
"What the---?" From a million miles away, a man shouted in surprise. She heard the thump of footsteps but couldn't seem to open her eyes. "Hey, lady." A huge, heavy hand shook her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Something warm and wet swiped her face, both reviving and disgusting her. She kept her eyes closed and limply swatted at it. Her hand hit fur. "Ugh."
"Spike, back off."
Spike? What was going on? She gave a low moan and tried again to force her eyelids to obey her will, finally succeeding after a Herculean effort. A tanned face covered in five o'clock shadow and smears of black grease swam in front of her. Next to him, its neck surrounded by a studded black leather collar, sat the biggest brown dog she'd ever seen. The creature had drool suspended from its mouth and it looked as if it had swallowed a sneaker with the laces hanging out. Dear heavens, was that what had licked her?
The voice spoke again, and this time she saw the man's lips move, though they seemed oddly out of sync with his words. The last time that had happened was when she'd seen Shoot the Piano Player in French with English subtitles.
"You don't look so good. Maybe I should call for an ambulance or something. I whacked you pretty hard." He touched her forehead and she tried to move away from those greasy hands. Did she have a smear on her skin?
"No, don't call an ambulance." Liv was dismayed at how feeble she sounded, but the last thing she needed was to draw more attention to herself. How would she explain that to Geoff or her father? "I'll be okay. Just help me up."
"If you're sure." Strong, firm hands slipped under her arms and pulled her easily to her feet. The dog leaned against her and shoved its head under her hand. She flinched at the feel of its bony, fur-covered skull even though she appreciated the support. It wasn't enough, though, and her legs wobbled beneath her.
"Whoa there, Nelly." The man tightened his hold and steadied her. "Maybe you should come inside and sit down for a couple of minutes. I could give you an ice pack for your head."
Liv drew herself up to her full height, all five feet, two inches of it---damn, now she missed her three-inch heels---and declared, "I would no more go into a strange man's house than...than..." She hated that the man only grinned and watched her sputter. She lost the little bit of strength she'd summoned and sank down onto the sidewalk. "I'll sit on the curb. Just get your ugly dog away from me."
"Spike? C'mon, he's gorgeous." He gave the monster a vigorous scratch all up and down its body. "And he's not my dog, but don't worry, he's a marshmallow."
"I don't like dogs." She dropped her aching head into her hands and peeked through her fingers to watch as the man dragged the dog a few feet away. Spike stared at Liv with droopy brown eyes for a couple moments before he turned and trotted into the apartment complex. Thank heavens.
"Look, you can't sit out here by yourself. What if you have a concussion and pass out?" The man squatted beside her. "Do you live nearby? I could take you home."
"I don't live anywhere around here." Heaven forbid. Liv waved off his offer with a flip of her hand. "I just need a few minutes to gather my wits."
"I don't feel right just leaving you here. Maybe you could go to my neighbor's? Daisy is a pretty harmless woman---at least if you're not a man---and from where I'm sitting, it's obvious you're no man."
"Daisy?" That was impossible. What were the odds?
"Yeah." He grasped her elbow and helped her stand again. Despite the grease and calluses, his hand was oddly gentle and comforting. "I bet you're seeing double, and you can't drive in that condition."
Annoyed he was right, and interested in checking out where the competition lived, she reluctantly agreed. They walked side-by-side into the complex, each step making her head throb more.
"I'm Mike, by the way. Mike Peck."
She looked up at him, really seeing him for the first time. He was unbelievably tall, well over six feet, and wore some kind of gray coverall that had his name embroidered on the patch affixed to the front.
She squinted at the smaller lettering above his name. Doug's Import Auto Shop. Saved by a grease monkey. How exactly right for her day.
They say you'll know when you're in love. What if you don't?
Slightly Foxed
© 2008 Jane Lovering
Alys, a single parent and certified romantic disaster area, is always falling for unattainable men---the latest one being the dead author of a "borrowed" book of poetry. When she reluctantly returns the book to its rightful owner, she meets Leo. He's very much alive, very much attracted to her and, well, it's love at first sight.
Isn't it?
After all, she's a single mum with a boring job in a bookshop and, as her daughter puts it, gravity's not going to hold off forever. Leo's got the financial stability she's been craving and he looks like an aftershave advert. So it must be love.
Mustn't it?
Then there's Piers, whose spontaneity draws her like a magnet. But is it love she feels, or just his infectious love of life? Before she can choose, an unexpected source threatens to lay bare the lie she has been living for the last sixteen years.
With happiness close to slipping out of her grasp, Alys is forced to ask herself whether she's ever really been in love at all.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Slightly Foxed:
The flat turned out to be the whole top floor of a Bonded Warehouse right on the river. Huge metal pillars supported the roof, but apart from that it was one long, empty space with the bathroom a very visible corner behind stylish glass bricks.
"Well?" Piers stood in the middle of the room, hands in pockets. "What do you think?"
"I think it would make a great rollerblading rink. But a flat? I don't know. It is very you though, Piers."
"How, me?" He rocked back on his heels watching me intently. I wasn't quite sure why.
"Very cool, very trendy. Very exhibitionist. I mean, if there was anyone here with you, you wouldn't even be able to scratch yourself without them seeing."
"So, you reckon I'm a cool, trendy exhibitionist?" His eyes were glittering.
"No, you're---" But I stopped myself.
"What do you think of me, Alys?" He came a little closer. "I mean, am I a nice guy or a psycho, or what? Y'see, you never say what you think, you keep it all locked away, up here---" He reached out to touch my forehead but, disturbed for no reason I could think of, I shied away and waved a hand to indicate the bare brick walls.
"Can you imagine curling up in here with a video and a pizza and listening to the rain outside?"
"Er...Alys..." Piers held his hands out in front of him. "Twenty-one. Male. Too fucking cool to live. I do not sit in with pizza."
I had a sudden flashback to last night, my birthday night, sitting in front of the TV, cheese stringily dripping onto my lap whilst Mr. Depp strutted his sizeable funky thing for my delectation. My sole conversation had been with Mrs. Treadgold who'd rung to make sure I'd enjoyed the cake. "If all you want is a sexy address, this will do you fine. But if you want a home---this will never be a home, Piers."
"That was straight from the heart anyway." Piers looked the place over, with a sigh. "But I guess you're right. It's a little municipal."
I instantly felt contrite. "But the view, the view is lovely." Bobbing away down the Ouse were the houseboats and the tourist craft. On the far bank were the riverside pubs and clubs. "Very urban."
"Noisy, at night."
"Yes, but lively. And handy for the station and the shops."
Piers just looked at me, steadily. "You hate it."
"Well, yes, but it's not for me, is it? Do you like it, that's the question. What about your girlfriend, does she like it?"
Piers turned away abruptly and leaned on one of the windowsills, gazing out across the rooftops of York. "I'm---kinda between women at the moment." There was a peculiar tone in his voice and I wondered if I'd put my foot in a monumental great hole.
"Are you gay?" The question came out rather faster, and more breathlessly, than I'd meant. I'd heard all about his penchant for young girl model-types who left not one inch of him uncovered with lipstick praise, mostly in scathing terms from Florence. But maybe they'd been symptomatic of a struggle with sexuality.
Piers seemed unoffended. I suppose, looking the way he did, all hair and rings and androgynously sexy, it must be something he got asked a lot. "No. I'm not. There is someone, but it's all kinda difficult at the moment, you know?"
I stood beside him and together we looked out of the window. "Life, eh?" But I had to admit that he made me feel a tiny bit better; he might be beautiful and well connected, but he still wasn't happy. I could manage to be miserable without any of those advantages. "Better get home. Grainger's been a bit off-colour lately and he's not too hot with the litter tray, so I don't like to be late."
"You won't come for a drink, then? Maybe some food, say thanks for coming to look at this place?"
"Wellll, all right, Grainger can cross his little furry legs for a bit longer. But you are absolutely not to order any wine, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am." Piers executed a very smart salute. His mood seemed to have switched from forlorn to cheerful in nanoseconds.
"And we can only go somewhere that won't mind my jeans, I haven't got anything to change into. Oh, and Piers, have you got anything to put on over that T-shirt?"
"Yes, ma'am, sure thing, ma'am. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, it's just that every time you move it's distracting."
"Yeah?" Slowly and deliberately Piers stretched his arms upwards, straightening out his spine and rolling his shoulders backwards, until his T-shirt moved up his torso, over the waistband of his jeans revealing, inch by inch, bare flesh studded with dark hair.
"Piers, you are such a poser." I turned away quickly so he wouldn't see that I was enjoying the show. "Come on, stop flaunting yourself and let's go."
"Sure thing." Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Piers led the way out of the flat. We ate in an Italian restaurant and chatted until they closed the place around us. I was surprised by just how much I enjoyed myself.
Next morning I woke up with the feeling that I'd done something I ought to regret. I padded out of the bedroom with my towel, heading for the bathroom. At least it was early enough that I could have a shower before work.
As I passed Florrie's bedroom door, I heard Grainger give one of his plaintive murp's on the far side of it. Somehow, and I could be almost positive I'd left the door open, Grainger had become shut in.
I flicked the door and Grainger ran through my legs. To check that he hadn't already downloaded last night's Whiskas onto Florrie's duvet, I put my head around the door, only to pull it back so fast that I nearly got friction burns from the air molecules.
Piers. His T-shirt and jeans were neatly folded on the floor, the boots he'd worn were propped up near the door. He was sprawled face down, and very obviously naked, across Florence's bed.
Oh bloody hell. Now I remembered what I'd done. Piers and I had been laughing hysterically coming up the stairs, recreating a scene from an old TV sketch show that we'd both treasured. He'd asked if he could stay over to save himself the drive home, and I, desperate for the loo and the comfort of my duvet, had agreed.
I peered cautiously into the bedroom again. I was so used to seeing Florrie, duvet tucked up to her chin, that seeing Piers angled, arms above his head, one leg bent and the duvet---well, it certainly wasn't covering much of his body, put it that way---was very strange. As I watched he stirred, one hand twitched and he made to roll over, at which I withdrew very smartly and went and had a very noisy shower. With singing. There was going to be absolutely no chance of him still being spread-eagled nude when I came out of that bathroom.
There's more to life than playing make believe.
The Role of a Lifetime
© 2008 Jennifer Shirk
Sandra Moyer has a good reason to distrust actors. She was once married to one who left her and her child. However, she's desperate for publicity to help her struggling preschool. Hollywood playboy Ben Capshaw's request to access her classes to prepare for a role is an offer she can't refuse.
Sandra second guesses herself on that decision until she sees Ben in action with the children. Her apprehension turns to wonder, and then to feelings she'd thought were closed off forever. Yet how can she trust that what she's seeing is real?
As a boy, Ben learned that acting was the answer to everything. The role he's up for now will enhance his career and, he's sure, secure his happiness. But spending time with Sandra and her daughter stirs up emotions that---for once---aren't pretend.
Ben's ready for a lifetime role as husband and father---if he can convince Sandra not to typecast him.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Role of a Lifetime:
Ben had the nerve to pop his head in her office exactly two hours later. "Uh, do you mind if I wait in here while the parents pick up the kids?"
Still angry with him---and herself---Sandra didn't bother to look up from writing at her desk. "You mean hide in here while the parents pick up their kids?"
He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I mean hide," he said with a trace of defeat.
She finally put her pen down and lifted her head. Ben was doing one heck of a personal repentant show for her, hovering in the doorway with wide eyes and his hands folded. She practically saw the halo hovering over his golden-brown head. "Okay," she said. "Then no, I don't mind."
"Great. Thanks, Sandals."
She looked at him sharply as he stepped in. Five seconds had barely gone by and he already had her back on the defensive. "That I do mind. My name is Sandra---not Sandals."
"Yeah, I didn't figure you for a nickname type of woman," he agreed, looking pleased with himself.
"Good."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against her door. "Ah, but you need to loosen up. That's why I'm going to call you Sandals."
"You know, typically a nickname is shorter than the given name."
"Is it?" he asked in mock seriousness. "Oh. Well, tell you what, you can call me..."
She waited several beats, thinking of more than a few unkind examples. "I can call you what?" she finally asked.
"That's it." He shot her his bone-melting smile. "You can just call me. Anytime."
She rolled her eyes, refusing to give in to the smile that threatened. "That sounds like a line from one of your movies."
He shot her a triumphant look. "Ah, ha! I knew you were a fan."
"Please. Don't flatter yourself. I just meant that it sounds like a very generic line from a very generic movie," she lied.
"Ouch." He played wounded and made a show of sticking in and taking out a pretend knife from his gut.
She'd seen better performances by him.
"You know, it's okay to admit the truth," he told her. "It means you're human."
"I know I'm human, thank you very much."
He chuckled. "Okay, if it makes you feel better, I'll give you a truth. That'll show you I can be human too."
"I doubt one piece of trivia will accomplish that enormous feat."
"Come on," he cajoled, undaunted by her attitude. "It'll pass the time while we wait for the kids to be picked up."
She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, like that twenty-questions game?"
He shrugged. "I was thinking more along the lines of truth or dare, but okay. We can play whatever game you like." His gaze traveled over her body, slow and thorough, giving her an idea of where his thoughts were going.
A mixture of curiosity and excitement had her swallowing hard. But she hid her emotions with an amused huff as she stood and walked over to her filing cabinet. Ben was worse than Hannah, always wanting to play games. She didn't have time to entertain his childish whims, even if they did seem...a little enticing. But she needed to find the number of a handyman. The building was falling apart, and a coat of paint might gloss over the many imperfections of it. Unfortunately, she was so intent on finding an old invoice, she didn't notice Ben come up behind her until his hands braced the filing cabinet on either side of her, caging her in.
"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, feeling her heart slam up against her chest so hard she jerked forward.
"Waiting to find out what game you want to play," he whispered in her ear.
She felt a shiver and whirled around. "I...uh...Game?" She couldn't think---or even breathe. He was standing so close he seemed to snatch up all the air around her, and for a split second, she almost felt faint because of it.
He smiled, and her throat constricted even more. "It looks like I'll have to pick for you," he said.
"I don't---"
He kissed her then.
She couldn't believe he kissed her. And what a kiss it was.
Feeling his hands travel up her arms and cup her face created an unfamiliar sensation she wasn't prepared for. That's why she kissed him back. It had nothing to do with the man himself. Or the incredible scent of his skin. Or the addicting taste of his mouth.
He pressed his body---the one she'd been so preoccupied with lately---against her, hard and firm, and she nearly died. His arms dropped and wrapped around her, holding on to her as if he were dangling off a bridge. He felt so good. It didn't matter that she was kissing a famous movie star or what he must be thinking at that moment. Their tongues touched briefly, and it was all she could do not to open her mouth further. So she did.
How could she resist that kind of blatant physical hunger? It had been so long since she had felt or incited that kind of reaction. She found herself wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself further into him, enjoying his response. If Ben was just acting again, he was doing a fine job of it. Maybe too fine. However, she gave in to this small, reckless moment of a kiss anyway, willing her better judgment to take a short hike---for once.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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