At Her Beck and Call. Dawn Atkins
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“Like what?”
“I always wanted to get my pilot’s license. But it takes time and it’s expensive. Hell, for that matter, I’d love to learn to hang glide.”
“You want to hang glide?”
“Yeah. I took a ride with a pilot once. It’s so quiet and very free. You feel like you’ve escaped.”
“Is that what you want? To escape your life?”
He laughed. “Maybe I just need a vacation.”
“Or maybe more.” She felt his yearning like heat on her skin. In the moonlight, his eyes looked like diamonds bubbling in melted chocolate and the sight gave her a twisting sensation in her middle—part longing, part desire.
“Anyway, here’s where I tee off.” He kicked at the rubber mat at their feet, changing the subject.
“So you aim out there?” She squinted out into the darkness. “Too bad we don’t have a club and some balls.”
“We couldn’t see where they landed.”
“So what? Just let it fly.” Out here under the wide, star-scattered sky, she felt so free. Anything seemed possible. “I bet I could hit a hole in one in the dark.”
“You know what? I just bet you could.” He stepped closer.
The breeze lifted her hair, snagging a strand on her lip.
Mike brushed it away with gentle fingers, taking care of her the way he took care of the town. She felt the heat of his touch for long seconds. His diamond-chocolate eyes glittered at her, wanting her. He tilted his face, leaned closer. He wanted to kiss her.
And she wanted him to.
Why not? It was as if the whole evening had built to this moment. They were in a tiny time warp where this couldn’t possibly be wrong.
Normally, she would make the move, but this time she wanted to be kissed, to be swept away by Mike’s mouth, by his desire for her. She closed her eyes, parted her lips and waited. How would he kiss her? Soft or urgent? Gentle or fierce? Would he just use his lips or tease with his tongue, too? She hoped—
“Hang on,” Mike said.
She opened her eyes to see him galloping toward his car. God, had she scared him away? But then she saw him grab something out of his trunk—two golf clubs and two boxes of balls. He ran back to her, looking so good—his upper body tight and controlled, his gait easy, as though he could go for miles without breaking a sweat.
“Let’s do it,” he said when he reached her. “Let’s hit balls into the dark.” He didn’t seemed to have noticed she’d pooched her lips out at him. Good. Better, really. Less complicated.
“I’ve only played miniature golf,” she said.
“Close enough. Let me show you.” He demonstrated the grip, the stance, the swing. She’d never thought golf was particularly sexy, but the way Mike’s body twisted, muscles graceful with power, made her sex ache and her stomach melt. She’d love to see that body naked, wrapped around her, not a golf club.
“Want to try?” he asked, handing her the club.
Oh, yeah. “Sure.” She focused on getting the hang of a swing, which he’d made look easy. Her first tries were shaky and tentative, but soon she was ready to try hitting a ball.
“I’ve got two boxes of three balls, two brands, so we can tell them apart when we come back to see how we did.” He put the first ball on a tee. “You go first.”
“About where is the hole?”
When he pointed, his arm brushed her cheek. The sensation made her feel faint, but she prepared to swing, the swish of wind through the mesquites making her feel so light, she was afraid she could be blown away, too.
She wished Mike would put his arms around her, under the pretense of helping her, just to feel his skin against hers, but this had to be her own wild swing into the night.
“Here goes.” She pulled back her club, kept her eye on the ball and swung with all her might. There was a thwack, the blow vibrated the club in her hand, and the ball arced in a high curve she followed until it disappeared into the inky dark.
Mike whistled. “You’re a natural, lady.”
“That felt good.” She laughed with pleasure. “Now you go.”
He set up and swung, the ball flying higher than hers, but disappearing at the same point in the darkness. “You’re right. That does feel good.”
He set up her second ball, which she hit higher and harder than the first one. She whooped with delight.
Mike’s second ball flew straight out and way high.
Her third ball went even farther.
“You hit pretty hard there,” Mike said, whacking his third ball the farthest of all.
“Not as hard as you.”
“We can see how close we came tomorrow. Maybe after work?”
“Great.” She stared out to where the balls had gone. That had been fun and satisfying and it did make her feel less frustrated. She turned to say so to Mike and—
His mouth was right there, his hand at her cheek, and he kissed her. It was great—urgent and gentle, lips and tongue at once, teasing and hungry at the same time. She wanted it to go on and on. She was sinking into him and flying away at the same time, lighter than air, riding one of Jasmine’s pink clouds.
Then, Mike broke it off.
“Why did you do that?” she gasped.
“I got carried away.”
“No. I mean why did you stop?”
“I’m your boss, Autumn,” he said.
“Not until tomorrow, you’re not.”
She leaned in, but he backed up. “It was inappropriate. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. Or me, either. We have an intense attraction.”
“Like my brother and your friend. Yeah.”
And they certainly didn’t want to go there. That was his message and she agreed with all her heart.
Her pink cloud evaporated instantly and Autumn hit the ground hard. She’d been ready to have sex on a dead and dusty golf green. Way too weird.
“I really apologize,” Mike said, looking so guilty.
“We kissed, okay? Don’t go painting a scarlet A on your forehead, Mike.”
“Still.