He was so caught up in her blue eyes, he barely heard her. “Huh?”
“Your eyes are bloodshot. You work all night and now you’re working today.”
“I’m not on duty now.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m making sure you’re not being followed.”
“But you’re not getting paid.”
“I’ll let you buy dinner tonight.” And maybe you’ll wear your hair down for me.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Okay, I’ll pay for dinner.” He grinned and took her keys from her hands and hit the button to open her doors. As he leaned forward, he caught her scent, that soft flowery perfume. He remembered her sweater in his car. “I have your sweater.”
“I have your jacket,” she said. “It’s in the backseat.” She glanced to her back seat and started to reach for it. He stopped her.
“I’ll get it later. Let’s get out of here before we get company.”
He rode around for almost ten minutes, keeping his eyes on Cali’s Honda behind him and any cars behind her. Finally, satisfied that no one tailed them, he headed toward the hotel. Toward temptation, and he was feeling damn weak right now. He reminded himself that she might be keeping secrets, but even that didn’t sate his need to have her. To have her close.
~
Cali pulled into the hotel parking lot and practiced her send-off speech one more time. “I’m really tired, and all I want to do is go to bed and sleep, so if you don’t mind, I’m just going to skip dinner. Besides, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. Like that hot little babe you brought to my school today. Remember, the one who has bigger tits and longer legs than I do?”
She startled when he opened her car door.
“You talk to yourself very often?”
“Only on Fridays,” she quipped to hide her nervousness and got out. A cool breeze brushed past them. She pulled her thin cardigan closed, recalled her speech, and decided to leave out the bigger tits and legs part. “I...” She stuttered to a halt when he reached out and released her banana clip, letting her hair fall. “What are you doing?”
His sexy grin came on strong. “If you can talk to yourself on Fridays, you should be able to let your hair down.” He tossed her banana clip in her front seat, pulled her to the side, and shut the car door. “Where do you want to take me for dinner?”
She ran a hand through her hair. Then she remembered her talk to send him packing. “You don’t have to stay.” Her breath caught when he pressed a finger over her lips.
“I want to.” He stared at her mouth. “I want…”
Chapter Twenty
“You probably have plans,” she said against his finger, and when she looked up at him she got the idea that he was considering kissing her. She stepped back, but butted against her car.
He pressed closer. “I do have plans. I’m having dinner with you.” His gaze went to her mouth again. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?”
Her breath caught. “No, but. . .” She remembered the woman he’d had with him today. “I don’t think you should do that.”
“Why not?” He moved in. His lips were so close she could feel the moisture from his breath.
“Because. . .” She forgot why it wasn’t a good idea.
He moved closer, his head lowered just a bit. His lips brushed ever so lightly against hers.
“Because. . .” There had been a reason why he shouldn’t kiss her. She’d known it, but it was gone.
“Too late now.” His lips melted against hers.
She forgot about telling him to stop—forgot everything. The only thing she knew was that he tasted so good—felt so good. The ache she felt in her heart for the last week, even the ache she’d felt since she’d heard her mom had cancer, lifted like fog. An odd thought ran though her mind. This was what it felt to be alive. A part of her had died with her mother, and had been dying since she learned her of mother’s cancer.
When his tongue slipped between her lips, she opened her mouth, invited him inside. His hand moved through her hair to cup the back of her head. He tilted her head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss. She leaned into him, let her tongue move into his mouth. Her breasts slid across his chest. His other hand moved between her and the car. His palm glided under her cardigan, under her pink sweater, and his palm moved over the bare skin of her lower back.
“Get a room,” someone yelled from a passing car.
They jerked apart. She covered her mouth with her hand. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said behind her fingers.
She darted off toward her room—part of her hoping he would leave, another part hoping he wouldn’t. His footsteps echoed along with hers. When she opened her door, she turned to give him the speech.