so Stan winked at her and said, “Maybe seeing it will convince her.”
“Right.” Again, Marylou hurried off.
Glancing at her watch, Jenna said, “I suppose I can stay a little longer. I haven’t even been gone a half hour.”
Stan just waited.
With slender fingers, Jenna smoothed her hair, glanced at him and away, and finally drew a deep breath. He could feel her working up her nerve, and it was both endearing and a gigantic turn-on.
“Yes, I want you.” Before Stan could recover from that awesome declaration, she added with earnest sincerity and an appalling lack of deception, “I have since the first day I met you.”
“You never let on.”
“I didn’t think there was any reason to.” In explanation, she said, “If you think I’m attractive . . . well, it’s nothing compared to what I think about you. It’s probably safe to say you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Of course, every woman in town thinks so, so I’m sure you’re used to hearing that.”
“No,” Stan growled, floored with how her announcement affected him. “I’m damn well not used to it at all. But it wouldn’t matter anyway, because you’re not every other woman in town. You’re special—to me, and to everyone who meets you.”
Shrugging that off, she sipped at her drink and nibbled on her sandwich. Again Stan waited, sensing her efforts to sort things out, to decipher both his feelings and her own. Picking up a pickle slice, she whispered, “Are we going to have an affair, Stan?”
For some reason, he didn’t like her wording. An affair indicated a noncommittal relationship, and damn it, Jenna was the type of woman a man settled down with. She was every man’s fantasy, proper on the outside, torrid on the inside. He wanted to know both sides better.
“I’m going to take you and your son out on the boat tonight. If Ryan wants, he can do some tubing. Or just swim in the cove. We’ll talk. Maybe grab dinner somewhere. And later, when Ryan gets ready for bed, I’m going to kiss you again—probably do more than kiss you.”
Alarm skittered through her. “Oh, but—”
“Jenna,” he said, cutting off her objection, “I understand your privacy is limited. Your kids are a big part of your life, and that’s how it should be. Know that I’d never make things awkward with them.”
Jenna watched him with longing on her face as well as in her heart. She craved the special bond between a man and a woman, but her kids came first, and Stan appreciated that. Even if he hadn’t read it in her head, he’d have said and done the same things. He was sure of it.
How hard would it be for a woman with children to develop any sort of intimacy with a man? Was that why she’d never dated, because it was just too complicated? Well, he wasn’t a bastard who’d ever make her choose or pressure her into an uncomfortable situation.
“Later,” Stan added, wanting her to have no misunderstandings on his intentions, “when we can find some private time so you can relax and enjoy every single second, I intend to make love to you.”
The pickle slice slipped from her lax fingers and landed half on the plate, half on the tabletop.
“You’ll like what I do to you, Jenna. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her head moved in a dazed nod of acknowledgment. “I believe you.” But the images in her head weren’t of him touching her. Just the opposite.
Her sexual imagination played for him like a porn video, and he was the recipient of every hot, wet kiss, every lick and gentle suck and firm stroke. Jesus, the woman had a great knack for covering the details.
On the ragged edge, glad the booth hid his arousal, Stan leaned forward again. “I’m not a kid, Jenna, after a quick tumble and instant gratification. Should I tell you what I want?”
The word, “Yes,” floated out on a breath from between her parted lips.
“I want a woman who isn’t shy in the sack. A woman who’ll let me make her feel good without hiding under the sheets or turning out the lights.” And then, pushing her, he said, “I want a woman who wants me the same way. Who enjoys getting naked and sweaty, fucking, sucking, with no taboos as long as we both enjoy it.”
Oh, yeah, Jenna was that woman. Just hearing him say it had her primed and ready and squirming in her seat.
“I want a woman,” Stan added, knowing how his words would hit her, “who insists on a screaming orgasm every time.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Marylou approaching. The girl’s timing couldn’t be worse, what with Jenna flushed, soft in all the right places, her eyes heavy, her nipples taut against her dress.
“Blow your nose,” Stan told her, quickly handing her his paper napkin.
Some of the sensual haze faded from her darkened eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Marylou’s on her way, and honey, she’ll take one look at you and think I’ve been getting you off under the table. Take the napkin, lower your face, and blow.”
Jenna fumbled to do just that, her hands shaking, her breath coming too fast. She turned awkwardly away and lowered her face just as Marylou set the plates of peach pie on the table.
“You want me to take some of these dishes?” she asked, hoping for a reason to hang around.
“That’s all right,” Stan told her. “We’ll be done shortly, and then you can get it all.” He handed her a twenty, which more than covered the bill, and said, “Keep the change.”
Stan knew she was saving for college, so he always gave her a huge tip. Marylou saw nothing amiss. “Thanks, Stan. See ya later, Jenna.” And off she went.
Jenna’s forehead hit the table. “Oh, God,” she said, her voice muffled through the napkin still covering her face. “I’ll never be able to come in here again.”
Stan couldn’t resist touching her hair. He glided his fingers over the warm silk, thinking of it loose and drifting over his body—his chest, his abdomen. His thighs.
He lifted her face. “So you’re a hot woman with a sexual appetite? It’s nobody’s business—but mine.” He brushed her lips with his thumb. “I’ll keep our secret.”
Jenna looked at her uneaten croissant and then at the piece of pie. She shook her head. “I can’t eat.”
“Yes, you can.” Stan picked up her sandwich and handed it to her. “I’ll help. For the rest of our meal, I’ll make sure we talk about something else.”
Jenna still struggled to get her breathing in order. “Like what?”
There were times when the nonglamorous job of gardening came in handy. “A new low-maintenance rose shrub that’d look great in that bare spot at the side of The Nook. It’s going to be a big seller, so you need to order it now.”
Bemused, Jenna listened as he detailed the finer points of the flower, and within minutes, she’d consumed
