A Better Man (18 page)

“I've . . . never had anyone say that bef
ore.”

“You're kidd
ing.”

She shook her head in beat with her pounding h
eart.

“Well, then I'll have to remember to say it more.” He leaned in. “I like you, L
ucy.”

“I . . . like you
too.”

“Great.” He stood and held out his hand. “Then how about we make some more memor
ies.”

She put her hand in his. “Where to
now?”

“The cor
ner.”

“Like a make-­out cor
ner?”

“Nope. Saving that for later.” He led her to a small, curtained-­off area, pulled back the black drape, and gave her a playful push inside. “Right now we're going to make complete asses of ourselves in this photo bo
oth.”

“A photo booth?” She looked at the window and camera light in front of them and immediately felt intimidated. She'd never done anything like this be
fore.

“Stay here,” he said. “I'll be right b
ack.”

He was gone only a minute. When he came back his arms were full of props—­a colorful zebra print hat, a bright boa, a pink jeweled tiara, a huge mustache on a stick, and glitter-­framed gla
sses.

“Oh. You are so wearing the boa.” She laughed. Since he'd gone to all this trouble she could hardly say no to a little fun. Even if she looked silly doing it. “And the glitter glas
ses.”

“No problem.” He plopped the tiara on his head. “I'm perfectly comfortable enough in my masculin
ity.”

Another giggle bubbled from her throat as they piled on the props, then posed like complete fools just before the camera flashed. Lucy had never done anything so crazy and she was surprised at how good it felt. Being with Jordan made her feel good, almost like she was a different person. And for the most part, that wasn't such a bad t
hing.

As the camera counted down for another shot, she tilted her bright yellow zebra fedora, held up the red paper mustache, and pursed her lips. Jordan caught her around the waist and pulled her in for a mustache
kiss.

The kiss lasted long enough for several flashes, and wrapping her arms around the boa circling his neck, Lucy forgot all about the camera until he lifted his
head.

“Ready to see how crazy we l
ook?”

She nodded and he tugged her hand, and they pushed aside the curtain to wait for the developed pictures to drop into the
slot.

“Oh my God.” She pressed her fingers to her lips to hold back a laugh. Tux-­wearing Jordan Kincade wrapped in a hot pink feather boa, a tiara, and silver glitter glasses was a sight to behold. “Those are total blackmail wor
thy.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I'm sure my teammates would love to get their gloves on th
ese.”

Lucy snatched them from his hand and dropped them down the front of her dress. “Which is why you should be nice to me.” She grinned and backed away when he reached for her. “Be afraid, Jordan. Be very afr
aid.”

When he caught her it was mid-­laugh. But that didn't stop him from kissing her again and making her toes curl inside her very sparkly high h
eels.

He removed the tiara and settled it on top of her head. “I officially dub you Prom Qu
een.”

She touched the plastic crown. “I've never been queen of anything bef
ore.”

“Honey, you can order me around all you want.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Now, how about we get you something to go with the bubbly? Something to keep your energy up for the rest of the night.” He swept his hand in the direction of a table she hadn't not
iced.

“Holy . . .” She gasped. His attention to detail touched her deeply. “A chocolate fount
ain?”

“Uh-­oh. Too m
uch?”

“Too delicious.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the table. “Strawberries, pineapple, marshmallows, and . . . oh my God, Rice Krispies tre
ats.”

“I assume you like chocol
ate?”

“As much as I try to eat healthy, I adore it. I swear, if chocolate was a church I'd pray there every day.” She picked up the silver tongs and dropped several delicacies onto a white china plate before she stuck them under the Willy Wonka fountain of rich, dark choco
late.

“The French believe it's an aphrodisiac,” he said, holding a giant marshmallow beneath the chocolaty rip
ples.

“I can understand why.” Lucy took a bite of a chocolate-­coated pineapple spear, closed her eyes, and moaned. “Oh. My. God. So g
ood.”

When she opened her eyes he was looking at her. Watching her with lust in the depths of those dark sapphire
eyes.

She didn't know if the French were right about chocolate, but the desire she saw in his eyes tickled her in the center of her chest before it moved down toward her pink lace pan
ties.

For her the sensation was rare. Not that she didn't ever have those kinds of feelings, but they'd been buried so deep beneath a layer of mistrust and displeasure she'd almost forgotten they exi
sted.

Jordan had no problem helping her reme
mber.

Before she knew what she was doing—­or could stop herself—­she grabbed the lapel of his tux and tugged him down until she could reach his
lips.

And then . . . she kissed
him.

I
f he never did anything like this again in his life, every moment Jordan had spent putting this faux prom together exploded like a flash fire when Lucy pressed her lips to his and moaned like she was in the throes of pas
sion.

Dancing with her so close had been sweet torture. Laughing with her had been even better. The sweetness of her scent bloomed around him like summer roses. The heat of her body, the softness of her skin, enticed him like nothing he'd ever experienced in his life. And in his life he'd experienced a
lot.

Lucy was m
agic.

With her lips on his he could barely control his passion. A rarity for him because he was all about control. Which did not bode well for his fantasy of laying her out on that table, spreading chocolate all over her luscious body, and licking it
off.

Hungry for more than just a light press of their lips, Jordan blindly set their plates on the table, drew her into his arms, and took possession of her mouth. She parted her lips, and the sweet taste of chocolate swept across his tongue. The intensity of the kiss deepened, burning him with the need for more. He filled his hands with her backside, pulling her in tighter to ease the ache behind his zipper. Her moaned response took him to a higher level of need. It clawed inside him, forcing past common sense and headed into dangerous terri
tory.

He wanted
her.

It was then he realized her moans didn't seem quite real. Like she was timing them or inserting them into a blank s
pace.

What the
hell?

He eased out of the kiss and her eyes popped
open.

“Should we take this to the back of the limo?” she asked in a tone meant to sound seductive but instead came off sounding anx
ious.

And not in a good
way.

Her actions and her comment were very
un
-­Lucy-­
like.

“I let the limo go. Figured I'd take you home in the
SUV.”

A combination of relief and embarrassment darkened her
eyes.

“Lucy. I didn't set all this up with the expectations of anything more than giving you something you missed fifteen years
ago.”

“Oh.” She glanced away as if she couldn't look him in the eye anymore. “Well . . . it's been a lovely evening and I sincerely appreciate all your efforts although it wasn't necessary. The past is the p
ast.”

“Hey.” He didn't give her the opportunity to do otherwise when he captured her face between his hands. “What's going
on?”

“I don't know what you mean. I've had a lovely time. I've thanked you. And I expect now you'll want to take me h
ome.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” He didn't understand the sudden disconnect. He thought they'd been having a good time. Now she'd flipped a switch and seemed ready to run like a rabbit back to her hidey-­hole. “Talk to me, Lucy. What's going on inside that head of yo
urs?”

“It's been a long day for me. I'm not used to all . . . this.” She waved her arm at the room. “I think it would probably be a good idea for you to take me home. Or I can call a
cab.”

“Do we even have cabs in Sunshine?” He was joking, but clearly she wasn't in the
mood.

“I can find a ride,” she insi
sted.

“If that's what you really want, I'll take
you.”

“That's what I really w
ant.”

“
Why?”

She looked up at him, obviously confused. “Why w
hat?”

“Why do you want to run? Weren't you having a good t
ime?”

“Yes, but . . . if you must know, because I'm quite sure you've never dealt with it in your entire life, rejection is a hard pill to swal
low.”

“Reject
ion?”

“See.” She looked away again. “I knew you wouldn't understand the conc
ept.”

“Is that what you think I'm do
ing?”

“I offered to .
 . .”

He took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “I don't want you to offer anything because you think you owe me something, Lucy. You owe me nothing. If you're going to kiss me, I want you to do it because you feel compelled to do so. Because you can't stand it another minute unless you make it hap
pen.”

He caught her by surprise when he wrapped his arm around her, brought her up hard against his body, and pressed his mouth to hers. Their tongues danced and tangled and she tasted just as sweet and enticing as she had moments before. He pressed her hand against his erection and her gasp ended the
kiss.

She looked up at him, clearly surprised by his ac
tion.

He was surprised
too.

He'd never had to try so hard to convince a woman he was interested and he couldn't understand why Lucy didn't get it. Usually all it took was a smile and a wink. Lucy was complicated. And for the life of him, he didn't know how else to get his point ac
ross.

“What you're feeling isn't a man who's rejecting you, Lucy. That's coming from a man who wants you but is trying his damnedest to behave like a gentleman. So if you want me to take you home, I will. But I'm hoping you'll s
tay.”

Her dark eyes searched his face like she was looking for some hidden message. “You want
me?”

“Yes. Why does that surprise
you?”

“Because . . .” A harsh bark of laughter pushed through her lips. “I'm
me.”

Jordan had tried not to think too much about her past. Before he'd returned home, he never considered how much a person's past defined their present and future. He was quickly learning how much it mattered. With Lucy, the answers were becoming apparent. And he did not like what he
saw.

“You were married,” he said. “Surely you've had a man desire you so much he can't think of anything but
you.”

“Yes. I was married. But I can assure you, the last thing my ex ever thought of was
me.”

He grabbed their dessert-­filled plates. “Come on. Let's go sit down. I'd hate to waste all this. Unless you really would rather I take you h
ome.”

She eyed the chocolate-­covered treats. “I didn't get to taste the Rice Krisp
ies.”

Relief washed over him and he smiled. He'd talked her into staying. Now hopefully he could get her to open up about what had gone wrong in her marriage. Not only because he wanted to know her better, but because he couldn't imagine a man not being obsessed with her body, mind, and
soul.

L
ucy bit into the chocolate-­covered treat and knew that once she started devouring the sugary delights, she'd have a hard time stopping. Especially if it delayed her having to answer the questions she knew were on the tip of Jordan's to
ngue.

She'd never had a man blatantly admit that he wanted
her.

Scratch
that.

She'd never had a man tell her he wanted her,
pe
riod
.

It was new, uncharted territory. And as much as it intimidated her, it also delivered a powerful punch of yearning. It went without saying that Jordan Kincade was the most attractive man she'd ever met, but the closer she got, the more she realized it was the heart of the man that might very well be his most appealing qua
lity.

To say she'd been shocked when he'd placed her hand on his sizable erection would be an understatement. It had been a blunt, bold move. It had also intrigued her and fed into the fantasies she'd had since he'd first walked through her classroom door. What would it be like to be made love to by a man like
him?