covering his lean hips, while she craved more of whatever he’d done the night before.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d be the one with no pride, offering to do whatever he wanted for just a little bit more of his delicious body.
She had to put a stop to this. Her sexual need had ebbed a little and she felt stronger, more able to walk away, and that’s exactly what she was going to do.
She went to turn from him, but he stopped her.
“I like you, Sarah,” he told her, his voice clear, sincere, imploring. “I’ve enjoyed tonight more than I’ve enjoyed talking with a woman in a long time. Stop judging me on what you think you know. Pretend you met me for the first time at the hospital today and listen to what your heart is saying right now.”
If she’d met him at the hospital and not had preconceived ideas she might think he was wonderful and not at all like the men her mother had warned her about.
“My heart isn’t saying anything right now.” Okay, so it was beating fast, and a little erratically, but that wasn’t speech.
He put his palm over her heart, as if interpreting an unspoken language.
Beating a lot erratically, she corrected, wondering why his hand on her chest made breathing so difficult.
“Maybe you just aren’t listening closely enough, because I think it is.”
“Don’t use lines on me, Jude Davenport,” she warned, reminding herself not to get caught up in what he was saying. The man was a practiced womanizer. “I’m not one of your women.”
Looking frustrated, he sighed. “How about we go to dinner and the show Friday evening and then just have some fun between now and Christmas? You get to decide how much, or how little, happens between us physically.”
No doubt shock registered in her eyes because his question floored her. That a lot would happen between them physically wasn’t in question. If she spent time with him, she would end up in his bed. She didn’t fool herself otherwise. She didn’t even deny to herself that a big part of her wanted to be in his bed, to know what it felt like to have him give her body pleasure.
“Christmas?” she finally croaked. “Christmas is weeks away. Wouldn’t Thanksgiving make more sense?”
Which almost sounded as if she was considering his outrageous suggestion. She wasn’t, was she?
He shrugged. “Why not Christmas? Thanksgiving is only a few weeks from now. We’ve already admitted that we’re dreading the holidays. Why not spend them together so maybe they won’t be so bad?”
Sarah mentally shook her head. Jude was asking her to date him through Christmas?
Had she passed out in her kitchen from smoke fumes and only dreamed he’d come to rescue her?
That made more sense.
Reality was that she was unconscious, suffering from smoke intoxication, and having one heck of a hallucination.
Either that, or Jude must have enjoyed their kiss.
She had enjoyed their kiss.
Had truly never been kissed that way, had never felt so much passion bubbling within her.
Yep, she must be hallucinating.
She bit the inside of her lip. Ouch. The pain was real. Which meant this was real. That Jude was searching her eyes, looking for an answer.
The truth was that she wanted to know him better, too.
If she said no, she’d only be denying herself. But there was that thing she didn’t really want to think about. Before she could consider agreeing to any of this, she had to address it or else it would be a constant thorn.
“What about the other women?”
“What other women?” He glanced around his living room. “I only see you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not that shallow, Sarah.”
When she didn’t relent, he sighed. “You want me to sign my name in blood that I won’t see other women?”
“You can do whatever you want. Whoever you want,” she clarified. “Just not on my time. If I agree to this, then I don’t want other women in your apartment.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t tell her she was crazy, that she had no right to make demands. Instead, he regarded her a moment, then asked, “You’ll do the same?”
His question was laughable.
“I don’t have men come and go out of my apartment.”
“You go to their apartments?” he pushed.
“No.”
His brow arched. “You do date?”
Not often. Dating wasn’t high on her list of things to do. Never had been. She’d watched too many women squander their lives away chasing after that elusive “the one”. Most of the time, she was smarter than that.
At the moment she didn’t feel smart. She’d thought Jude wanted to take her to bed and instead he was trying to talk her into agreeing to spend the next several weeks dating him.
A smart woman would have already agreed.
Or was it that a smart woman would have already left his apartment? Or never been there to begin with?
“That guy, the one who stood you up, you have been on a date since that night?”
She winced at the reminder of just how miserable dating gone wrong could make her feel. Instead, she’d cling to how good his kiss had made her feel, to the knowledge that he wanted to kiss her again.
“Occasionally,” she answered, trying to stay focused on their conversation rather than all the things running through her mind. “My priorities haven’t been on how many notches I could put on my bedpost.”
Although she’d been striking out, he didn’t seem offended by her comment.
“What have your priorities been?”
“Not on getting laid.”
“I think it’s safe to say you’ve established that.” His gaze narrowed. “You do think notches are my priority?”
They were talking in circles. She took another step back, determined she was going to make her way to her apartment.
“I don’t know you well enough to know your priorities.”
“Which I plan to remedy,” he countered.
Flustered, she put her hands on her hips and glared. “You seriously want to take me to a Broadway show? To date me, just me, through Christmas?”
Eyes glimmering,
