“We’ll handle it,” Kelli said.
Michael’s warm arms wrapped around Mia from behind and he kissed the top of her head as Mark, Sue, and a very angry Kelli, whose face was as red as her hair, closed in on Jason. By the looks of him, he might not be sober enough to even remember it in the morning.
“Ah, fair Hermia. The course of true love never did run smooth.”
In spite of the tension in the moment, or maybe because of it, she burst out laughing. “Are you for real? You’re going to quote Shakespeare to me in a bar?”
“Is it working?”
She turned in his arms and took his handsome face in her hands. “Yes. It’s working.”
He leaned down and kissed her, tasting of champagne and Michael, and it was all she could do to not start quoting Shakespeare herself.
He pulled back and studied her face. “What are you thinking about?”
“French fries.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “How hungry are you, Mia?”
“Starving.”
A mischievous grin crept across his face. “But we just ate.”
She loved this teasing side of him. “A huge platter of french fries.” She stepped forward and ran her arms around his waist under his jacket and leaned into him, loving his smell and warmth. Also loving his obvious arousal pressing into her belly as she scraped her nails over the back of his dress shirt beneath the jacket. “Hot, salty french fries, Michael.”
“Now?”
“As soon as possible.”
“No appetizer first?” he said into her hair, hands firm on her waist. “No casual, mood setting ambiance?”
He was driving her crazy. “No. Straight to french fry.”
“Truly fast food, then?”
“Yes.”
“I can accommodate that.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was a struggle to keep pace with Michael’s long, purposeful strides while balancing in high-heeled shoes. His grip on her hand was firm, but not too tight, and his clear urgency was thrilling.
“Wasn’t it rude to leave without even saying goodbye?” Mia asked as they made it to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
“Not at all. I left a note with the bartender to pass to Sue and Mark. I didn’t want to interrupt their chat with your good friend, Jason.”
“He’s no friend of mine.”
“That was sarcasm.” He stopped abruptly and she lost her balance and collided into his chest, hands on his lapels as he wound his arms around her waist. “This is not.”
When his mouth covered hers, it was different than before. Pure, raw desire snaked through her limbs and coalesced between her legs, where the chilly air swirled up her skirt, making her acutely aware of her state of near undress and vulnerability.
He broke the kiss, grabbed her hand again, and immediately struck out across the street toward the bed and breakfast.
“You’re in a big hurry,” she said, stepping up on the curb and making the turn onto the sidewalk to the porch.
“You’ve no idea.” His speed increased to where she was running to keep up by the time they reached the steps. In one motion, he scooped her up into his arms and took the porch steps two at a time and she found herself giggling as much from shock as amusement.
“The key is in my inside jacket pocket on the left side.”
Fingers trembling, she reached in and pulled it out.
“Now the door,” he said, breathing heavily, face unreadable.
She swallowed hard. If he made love with even half of this intensity, it was going to be mind blowing.
“The door please, Mia. Now, before we wake the owner, or the others return.”
She slid the key in and turned it with a click. He pushed the door open with his foot and carried her through the entry hall and eased her down outside the storage closet where their suitcases were kept, taking her hand firmly again, as if he were afraid she’d bolt. But she wouldn’t. She’d wanted this man from the moment they met. No way in hell would she miss out on this. He took the key from her hand and unlocked the closet door, immediately stepping inside and pulling her with him.
When he closed the door, they were plunged into complete darkness. The faint glow coming from under the door did nothing to illuminate the space, only seemed to make the darkness more pronounced.
Heart hammering, she waited for her mind to catch up with her body, which was charging forward at light speed. “The luggage closet?” she asked, voice breathy.
“I’ll never make it up the stairs,” he replied, warm hands traveling up and down her arms. “Consider it part of my therapy to be less rigid and more spontaneous.”
Well, it was certainly spontaneous. His breath heated her neck, and she trembled in anticipation, wondering what he’d do next. This exciting, complex man had her completely off guard. She’d never felt this stimulated or alive.