the kiss was unexpected. And unbelievably pleasurable.
She didn’t try to step back, didn’t shove him away and slap his face as she probably should have. Instead she let him kiss her, let this incredible stranger gently take her lips with his own. Soft and tender at first, then more heated as he slipped his hands lower to encircle her waist and pull her even tighter against his body. As if they weren’t already so close together a whisper couldn’t have come between them.
As the kiss went on, she briefly wondered if she’d fallen asleep, if she was still at the motel where she’d spent the previous night. Maybe she’d popped one too many nickels into the Magic Fingers and they’d gotten her all worked up so she was having an amazingly intense, erotic dream.
Kissing had never been this good in real life. Besides, no man this perfect could exist in this nightmare of a town.
So she could be dreaming, couldn’t she? And if it was merely a dream, couldn’t she, uh, kiss him back?
She softened her mouth and tilted her head. Feeling the flick of his tongue against the seam of her lips, she whimpered, continuing to tell herself that this couldn’t be happening. The beeping of a passing car horn and the musty damp-wood smell of the old porch on which they stood were merely realistic elements of her dream. These weren’t real lips now tugging gently at hers, tasting her, exploring her. She hadn’t fallen into the arms of a complete stranger…and stayed there quite happily.
Feeling a few drops of rain plop down from the striped awning over the Tea Room’s porch onto her face, she focused on their descent down her cheek. Cold water. Warm kiss. Gentle tongue. His clean, male scent. Hard chest pressing against hers. A thrilling bulge in his pants pressing firmly against her lower belly, which made her rise up on her tiptoes to line things up a little better. The sudden hot flood of moisture between her thighs. Definite car horn beeping. Nosy-faced old lady stepping around them to go down the steps to the sidewalk.
The clarity of detail assured her she was not dreaming.
Insanity . She didn’t care. His breath tasted minty as his mouth caressed hers, gently, then deeper. She moaned slightly, deep in her throat, no longer able to pretend this wasn’t real, knowing she had to either just go for it, part her lips and let their tongues tangle and mate, or else shove him down the steps.
Kate’s rational side said to shove. For once she told it to shut the hell up.
Her entire body hummed with energy. She lifted her leg, sliding it against his, delighting in the friction of her stocking against his trousers. As he moaned and pushed closer, she considered how simple a thing it would be to lift her leg to his hip, to let him pick her up until she encircled his waist with her thighs. To slide onto the wonderfully hard erection straining against the seam of his pants.
She wanted to. Desperately. If only there were no car engines, broad daylight…and the minor fact that he was a complete stranger.
He finally pulled away and smiled gently at her. She shook her head hard and gulped, noting the slowness of a passing car, the curious stare of a face in the window of the Rose Café across the street. Finally she took a wobbly step back. “You’re insane.”
He stepped forward. Following her. “No, I’m Jack.”
Kate shook her head, still bemused. “You kissed me.”
“I’m so glad you noticed.”
“You can’t go around kissing strangers on the street. How could you do that? Just…just…kiss me?”
He shrugged. “You said you weren’t married.”
“What if I were engaged? A novitiate? A lesbian?”
“Engaged isn’t married, so I’d say tough luck to the guy.” Grinning, he continued, “Novitiate would simply be a crime against mankind, definitely worth ignoring.” He glanced down at her trembling body, his stare lingering on the hard tips of her breasts, scraping so sensitively against her blouse. Then at her legs, which she had to clench together to try to stop the trembling. Not to mention the hot, musky smell of aroused woman.
“Lesbian isn’t even in the realm of possibility,” he finally said, his voice nearly a purr. “You want me pretty badly.”
Her jaw dropped. He tipped it up with the tip of his index finger. “Now, introductions. Remember? I’m Jack. It’s very nice to meet you. Who are you, and what in God’s name are you doing in Pleasantville?”
She ignored the question. “You followed me.”
He didn’t try to deny it. “Guilty.”
That stopped her. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Fate? Instinct?” Then he lowered his voice, almost whispering as he leaned even closer until his body almost touched hers from shoulder to knee. “Or maybe so I could see what color eyes my children are going to have?”
Kate opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound come out.
The man was unbelievable. Outrageous. Sexy. Charming and heart-stoppingly handsome.
And still standing much too close. So close she could see his pulse beating in his neck and the cords of muscle on his shoulders. His upper arms were thick beneath the tight navy cotton of his shirt, so different from the Chicago health club addicts she sometimes dated. As if he didn’t work out for his health, but because he was the kind of guy who just needed to pound something once in a while.
Her breath caught as she imagined his sweaty, hard body pounding something. Pounding into something. Into someone.
Focus!
“How do you know I don’t already have a live-in guy and three kids somewhere?” she finally asked, hearing the shakiness in her voice. She took another step back, needing air, needing space, needing control of her own mind, which seemed muddled and fuzzy as she examined the tanned V of skin revealed by his shirt. Had she really been kissed by him? Held in his arms? And, damn it, why hadn’t she thought to move her fingers to that V to tangle in the light matting of chest hair just below his throat? Cool it, Kate!
“Do you?”
Yes. Tell him yes. Then run like hell . “No.”
He smiled. “I didn’t think so. So, tell me your name, tell me your phone number, and let’s go to dinner.”
Dinner. Only a few hours till dinnertime and she hadn’t even made it to her mother’s house yet.
“No. I can’t.”
“You take my breath away, run right into me, ruin my pants and you won’t even tell me your name? Cruel.”
“Cruel. Yeah. Welcome to Pleasantville,” she muttered.
“Ah, I suspected you weren’t a native.”
Remembering his other comment she asked, “What’s wrong with your pants?” She glanced down, noting the rigid bulge in his crotch, and had to gulp. Yeah, she guessed their embrace had ruined the fit of his pants, anyway.
He obviously saw her stare and lifted a brow. Then he turned, pointing ruefully
