Barbie & The Beast (12 page)

The mattress squeaked beneath Darin’s weight as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His hand, on hers, had started to shake
big-time. He was shaking all over, as a matter of fact. He was shakier than she was. All revved up and ready to go?

His voice sounded weaker than before, as if he had to force it out. “Barbie, I have to tell you something,” he said.

“You’ll take me to a movie?” she guessed hopefully, not wanting any bad news, afraid there might be some.

“Yes, a movie. There’s something else.”

“Shopping?”

“I. . .” Darin trailed off, then picked up again. “Shopping, too.”

“Really?” Barbie pushed up on her elbows, slightly dazed, feeling the possible return of her internal buzzing.

“I need to tell you. . .” Darin stopped again, throat filled with an audible rawness, as if something was stuck there.

“Tell me what?” Barbie’s scalp prickled in anticipation. Would he tell her he had no condom? Would he ask if she was on the
Pill? Would he tell her he was actually engaged to somebody else? Or—oh crap—that he is genitalless, like Ken?

Darin’s finger
rested on her lip to keep her from speaking, then immediately retreated. He said, “First I’d like to know why you think shopping
allows you to know another person better.”

Nothing about contraception. Nothing about Ken. Hooray!

“Barbie?” Darin whispered.

“It’s a girl thing, Darin.”

“I’d like to know.”

“It has to do with a person’s ability to give and take, more than the actual act. If a man agrees to do something so against
his natural compulsions for the sake of the woman he’s dating, it’s a compromise. A man who will compromise has relationship
potential.”

“Tough test,” Darin said.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I prefer my way.”

Barbie drew her legs a little closer by bending her knees. “Tongues and lips on skin is fast, a jump-right-in-there method
of testing, I suppose,” she admitted. “Though, don’t you think that dinner, movies, and shopping are less complicated ways
to get to know someone? Lots of opportunities to talk.”

The more Barbie thought about it, the more she realized that talking would be listed right up front in the rule book as a
never-do if one is about to—or hoping to—have sex with a guy. And she
wanted
sex with this guy. What complicated matters were those two little bothersome words:
Bridesmaid Barbie
.

Fickle, that’s what she was. Totally and utterly fickle. She should shut up. She should make a decision. She should rise up
and kiss Darin, rip his jacket off and see what lay beneath those togs, if sex were truly a goal. If she had her hands free
. . .would she actually go through with it?

There was a 50 percent chance there would be another date, no matter what they did or didn’t do. There was a chance there
might be a relationship après the deed of tucking. The odds were fifty-fifty that he’d call back tomorrow.

And fifty-fifty not.

Her dilemma. Did Darin get it?

The bed squeaked as she fell backward, but she bounced right back up again. Wait just a darned minute! Hadn’t
he
started all the talking? Hadn’t
he
asked
her
to talk to him? Why would he do that if they both knew talking tended to ruin a perfectly good sexual moment? Maybe he truly
wasn’t planning on having one?

She said tentatively, “So, tell me how you decide if you want to see a person again.”
And please want to see me.

“Tactile sensations,” Darin whispered, sounding as if his voice were coming from inside a long tunnel. “Taste. Smell. Feel.”

“Yes, but that’s too quick, Darin. Scratch-and-sniff comes after dinner, movies, and shopping.”

She said this teasingly. When Darin took a long moment of silence, she wanted to strangle herself for being so honest. Men
had their ways of testing the lay of the land—so to speak—and women had theirs. Somewhere in the middle, hopefully, if the
stars were aligned, they met.

Those stars were aligned here, now. Darin dropped his face to hers and kissed her as though there were no tomorrow, with plenty
of French and oodles of ardor. Barbie’s emotions spun upward, somewhere between an urge to slap him and an urge to wrap her
legs around his waist. Some variance. She was still fickle.

Decide, Barbie told herself. You must decide now which it is going to be.

“Close. . .your. . .eyes,” Darin sort of barked.

Barbie obeyed, her heart thumping hard and fast. Something was vibrating upon the bed, something very specific this time.
It was probably her, in reaction to Darin’s closeness, something inside of her that needed attention. Which meant there was
no need to flip a coin. Her decision was made. Her body had won. She’d go with the flow.

“Keep. . .your eyes closed, Barbie. Breathe.”

Barbie took in some air. Darin kissed her again. Fully, Deeply. Wondrously. Turning up the heat.

Barbie shuddered on the bed in a dance of the senses. Her body pooled with chills, then instantly heated. Hot and steamy.
The only thing better, Barbie decided, would be lying beneath that marvelous body of his. . .on date twenty-five.

Oops. She’d forgot. Sooner!

Darin sort of growled. Wasn’t that cute? He was fighting to hold himself back. He really did want her!

His mouth was supple and had tasted so darned delicious. His spicy scent was an aphrodisiac. It would be worth the chance
there might never be a second date, Barbie told herself, as her lover’s sharp nails began to burn across her rib cage through
her silk camisole.

“Oh God, oh God,” she murmured, sure she would soon get to feel those ripped abs of his directly against hers. With luck,
they would both be naked soon. His tactile theory had been a good one. She had folded. Her decision would stand.

Back arching off the mattress, hands fluttering with the urge to tear off Darin’s clothes and get a start on everything she’d
once eschewed, Barbie smiled.

Oh, and was she levitating?

Darin growled beneath his breath again, and she blew out a long, low sigh. This had to be a spell Darin had cast over her.
She simply was not used to handing over her body. She didn’t have any more protest left in her.

Darin paused again. He cleared his throat. Maybe to hide a moan?

“The best part is yet to come,” he whispered over the snap, crackle, and pop of the sparks going off in Barbie’s mind. Tiny
hairs all over her body stood on end with the insinuation that anything could be better than his lips on her shoulder or anywhere
else.

“I promise,” Darin continued, oh so seriously, oh so sexily and earnestly, as Barbie imagined his lips trailing lightly down
to find her silk-clad nipple, and the conniptions that would bring.

Best is yet to come?
Was that a play on words? Barbie’s insides were aching. She reached for him with sheer exuberance this time, her finally
freed fingers opening and closing, her body leaning toward him. She wanted to feel Darin. To see him. To experience
everything
.

Her fingers grazed his cheek and chin in the softest of caresses, then veered toward the cord dangling from the Roman shade
at the window beside her headboard. She wanted to see him in the moonlight. She heard Darin gasp and utter an oath. She smiled.
Had her merest touch driven him as crazy as his touch had driven her?

The bedsprings squeaked again as she grasped the cord and tugged, wanting to let the moonlight in, eager to see the passion
on Darin’s face. As the shade curled up, she squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to recall his list of selective sensations.

Taste.

Smell.

Feel.

Her selection was made.
Oh yes, God! Let’s tuck!

The word alone—
tuck!
—set off a bomb in Barbie’s gray matter. For a few seconds, as moonlight from the window flooded the bed, she remained perfectly
quiet with her eyes squeezed shut. What would Darin’s next step be? She felt nothing. Opened her eyes. Saw no one.

“Darin?”

No answer.

“Darin?”

Was that a sound in the distance?

A
door
?

Sitting up too fast, Barbie’s head whirled with leftover wine-induced vertigo. Tossing her legs over the side of the bed anyway,
she stood by holding the bedside table. She’d had much too much to drink.

“Darin? You there?”

No sound. Odd.

Barbie padded into the hallway, then to the living room, her head still running in spin cycle. But there was no Darin in the
living room. No Darin in the bathroom, either. Did this mean there would be no tucking? Was this a big gyp? Where the heck
had Darin gone?

The muffled sound of her phone, returning suddenly, shocked Barbie into a shout. Puzzled, wary, then slightly enlightened,
she dove for the couch.

“Barbie?” Angie whispered from the other end. “What are you doing answering the phone?”

“What are you doing calling?”

Angie ditched her conspiratorial tone. “Ooh. Are we grumpy? This isn’t good. I’m sure this isn’t good. Where are you?”

“My apartment.” Her voice was flat, petulant. The vertigo was returning. Riotous confusion.

“Alone?”

“It seems so, as of a minute ago.”

“Good for you! Stand your ground on the no-sex thing. Or did the guy even have sex potential?”

Barbie fell silent, feeling a sob coming on.

“Who was he?” Angie asked with interest.

“Darin. Russell.”

“You make any second date plans?”

“Thing is, I’m not sure.”

Barbie got slowly to her feet and tiptoed toward the living-room window. She separated the blinds, peered out. No one out
there on the sidewalk. No gypping tease of a guy anywhere in the neighborhood, though she couldn’t see the portion of the
street directly beneath her window.

“Not sure?” Angie said disbelievingly. “You either made plans or you didn’t.”

“He said he’d take me to a movie.”

Another peek at the street outside. Another big zippo.

“A movie? Really? He agreed to that?” There was lots of interest in Angie’s voice now.

“Plus shopping,” Barbie added softly.

“Are you serious?”

“He used the E-word, Angie.”

A small hesitation. Then an audible gasp. “The E-word? On the first date?”

Well, Barbie mused, it was actually their second meeting, but Angie’s question was a valid one. To night was, after all, their
first actual date. Carting her around a graveyard didn’t count. Still, Darin had said he wouldn’t harm her to night or ever.
He had stated very clearly that they would have another date. So, what had happened to him?

“He used the E-word? Then what?” Angie wanted to know.

“He left.”

Good to do some editing here, Barbie decided. Nothing about deep kisses and longing for licking.

“Before he left, did the movie and shopping date have a day of the week attached?” Angie asked.

“Not really,” Barbie replied. “Is that bad?” She knew the sudden lack of Darin was bad even without Angie’s two cents. Darin
had just up and left. Disappeared. Poof!

“Maybe bad, maybe not,” Angie said. “The E-word is a good start, I think.”

“There’s something else, Angie.” Here it comes, Barbie thought. Don’t shriek. Don’t start shouting, crying, or sounding overly concerned. “He didn’t say good-bye
when he left.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Geez, Angie! You used the tone!”

“Well, I suppose there were circumstances for this non-good-bye sayage?”

“Lips on my throat one minute, non-good-byes the next. I think I heard the door close behind him.”

“He got to lips on your throat?” Angie sounded flabbergasted.

“Now’s not the time, Ang. But yes, he did, so sue me.”

“I’m not chastising, Barb, I’m jealous! Been a long time since I had lips on my throat. Now. . .as for why he left.
You didn’t have anything weird on your throat—like misplaced food or drool or something?”

“Only a little lotion.”

“Good stuff or cheap stuff?”

“Ten dollars a bottle.” That would fit Angie’s definition of good, surely.

Her friend took a few seconds to think. Then she cleared her throat. “You didn’t by any chance, um, accost him with rules
while his lips were on your throat?”

“Well. . .”

“Lordy! You didn’t! Barb, listen. We need to talk about this.”

“Might not be the time for a lecture, Ang,” Barbie reminded her. “Some confusion over here.”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t get your pan ties in a knot. Well, my thought is that if the guy agreed to a movie, and if he used the
E-word, I’d say you had a successful date, plain and simple.”

Barbie sighed. “It doesn’t feel successful. We’d only barely gotten to scratch-and-sniff.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Did you say what I thought you said?”

“Probably,” Barbie admitted with a wince.

Hesitation, then: “You didn’t get to—”

“Nope.”
Not quite.

Angie sighed audibly. After a few moments, probably trying to sound cheerful, she added, “I say he’ll call.”

“The problem is that he might think he has
E
to do it in, Ang.
E
being
eternity
.”

Angie made sympathetic sounds. “Plenty of other fish in the sea in that case, my friend. It was only one date, after all.”

“Damn right. Plenty of fish,” Barbie agreed, though she had an inkling none of those fish would be like Darin.

“We are prime fisherwomen,” Angie continued. “Adept at hook, line, and sinker.”

Not so adept at wine ingestion, though, Barbie thought. Nor in reeling the fish into her bed. It looked like she’d definitely
have to work on that.

“Don’t worry, Barb,” Angie cooed. “Take a bath, eat those leftover Oreos, and get some beauty sleep. Remember in those Harry
Potter books when the witchy nurse at Hog-warts gave them all chocolate to ease their minds and—”

“Angie?” Barbie interrupted, her voice quavering. She squeezed her eyes tight.

“—the chocolate made them better? And—”

“Angie!”

“Yeah, Barb?”

“There aren’t any leftover Oreos.”

Silence. Dead. Thick. Murky. Followed by some heavy breathing on the other end of the line. Then, “Uh-oh. This isn’t good,
is it?”

Barbie shook her head as much as her vertigo would allow. “I think I’m going to—”

“No! Don’t do anything. You hang on, Barb. I’ll be over in a half hour. Can you wait half an hour? Hang on until then, okay?
Take a shower. A hot shower. No, a cold shower. Definitely cold. Put on your poodle pajamas and drink some milk. Have some
cheese. Cheese is almost as good as cookies. Turn on the TV. You’re going to be all right. Do you hear me, Barbie? I’ll be
over as soon as I can!”

“Okay.”

Well, Barbie sniffled to herself as she hung up the phone, she might not have Darin, but she did have the doggie bag. That
was something, wasn’t it? And help was on its way.