Show and Tell (31 page)
She was close to fifteen years younger than he was. What had she said in the theater? That she was a toddler when
Body Heat
was made. He’d been graduating high school. When he’d gotten married, she was in grade school. He could get past the age discrepancy, but what of other things that might get in the way? She’d been married, it hadn’t ended well, and he had no idea where the fault in that lay. Yet he couldn’t cast stones. What he wanted was her sweetness, her teasing, her humor, her loyalty to her friends and family, and her zest for life. He didn’t know anything about her, not her name, her job, or where she lived, yet his heart and soul screamed out that she could be so damn right for him.
Body Heat
was made. He’d been graduating high school. When he’d gotten married, she was in grade school. He could get past the age discrepancy, but what of other things that might get in the way? She’d been married, it hadn’t ended well, and he had no idea where the fault in that lay. Yet he couldn’t cast stones. What he wanted was her sweetness, her teasing, her humor, her loyalty to her friends and family, and her zest for life. He didn’t know anything about her, not her name, her job, or where she lived, yet his heart and soul screamed out that she could be so damn right for him.
Convincing her of his feelings seemed beyond possibility.
He leaned close, dropping his voice. “You’re too fucking gorgeous for words.” He traced the beadwork along the halter of her dress. “Very interesting. I haven’t seen anything like it.”
She put a hand to her throat. “I’ll tell you a secret. I love this dress.” She leaned in. “And I’m not wearing panties.”
Just like that, he scented her arousal over the faint aroma of the flickering candle in the table’s center. He pushed her wineglass in front of her. “Don’t turn me on when I can’t do anything about it.” In more ways than one. “Taste the wine.”
“Spoilsport,” she murmured, then lifted the glass to her lips. Watching her drink was damn near a religious experience. She breathed in the delicate bouquet first, then took the tiniest of sips. Closing her eyes, she tested the wine on her tongue amidst sexy sounds of pleasure before she finally swallowed.
Maybe the restaurant wasn’t such a good idea. He needed to get her alone, make her enjoy him the way she did the wine.
When she opened her blue eyes, he simply fell into them. “That was good,” she said, her lips glistening.
She had no idea how damn good.
“So . . .” She twirled the glass stem on the white tablecloth. “How do you intend to make up for teasing me all week?”
“I didn’t tease you. Not even one teasing e-mail.”
She tapped a red nail on his hand. “Exactly. You’re a very naughty man. First you do sexual things to me in a public theater, then you disappear. That sounds like teasing to me. If you were a woman”—she put her lips to his ear—“they’d call you a cock teaser.”
“You got an orgasm. I didn’t.”
“I offered. You made me stop.” She smiled. He wanted her lips around him.
“I asked you to come home with me, and you refused.”
“Oooooh.” She drew the sound out. “You were punishing me.”
He took her hand in his. “If anyone was punished, it was me. Do you have any idea how much I missed you?”
Her eyes sparkled. She loved hearing that. Then she blinked, long and slow, and another emotion glittered in her gaze. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing. Turn me on, turn me off . . .” Elbows on the table, she raised her arms and spread her hands in a what-gives gesture.
Glancing at his watch, he judged how much time he had left. She’d opened the door for him, and he stepped right through. “I’m not playing a game. I want you. For more than a few titillating episodes.”
Her breasts rose with a deep breath. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
He couldn’t help the laugh, but as least he kept it low, between them instead of the whole restaurant. “Let’s put it this way. I tell you about myself. You tell me about yourself.” He paused to let the idea sink in. “And we have a relationship.”
She rolled her lips between her teeth and stared at him.
“I’ll start.” He didn’t know how much of his soul to bare. “You already know where I work and what I do. I was married for twenty-two years, divorced for one, and I have two beautiful daughters. Lexa’s almost twenty and Brooke’s twenty-one. They’re both in college. Brooke wants to be—”
She short-circuited him with her hand over his mouth. He barely restrained himself from licking her fingers.
“I don’t think we know each other well enough for all this personal information.”
He wanted to howl. How the fuck were they supposed to know each other
without
the personal details? “I want more.” The challenge lay on the table between them.
without
the personal details? “I want more.” The challenge lay on the table between them.
Emotions rioted across her face. Her lips tightened slightly, the smallest movement flared her nostrils, and the arch of her blond brows rose. She sipped her wine without all the ceremony. “I—” She stopped.
Scott waited.
The silence wore on until he checked his watch for the second time. Then he wrapped his hand around her arm, cupping her elbow. “How did it feel when I fucked you in my office?”
She swallowed.
“It was goddamn personal, wasn’t it?”
It was beyond anything Trinity had ever felt before in her life. He’d filled her so deeply, she’d wanted to cry. “It was personal,” she whispered.
If she told him she didn’t want a relationship, she’d lose him. Yet if she gave her name, let him in, eventually, it would all turn out like it had with Harper. Oh, not the cheating, but Scott thought she was some together woman who wanted to take a great big bite out of life. When he figured out she was . . . well, that she had no clue who she was or what she wanted, he’d give her the
sayonara, baby
routine. She wasn’t ready to lose him.
sayonara, baby
routine. She wasn’t ready to lose him.
So how could she make him stay without giving away too much? “It’s only been three weeks. Give me time to work up to it.”
“Then at least tell me your name.”
His insistence irritated her. “As I recall, when you put your card under my door, you guaranteed my anonymity.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?” Dammit, she liked it the way it was.
He slid his hand from her elbow to her wrist. Her skin heated, tingled. The breath caught in her throat.
“Before I fell madly head over heels in lust with you.”
How did he do that, turn her inside out with a few words? She needed a sip of wine badly, to wet her parched throat. “You need to let me figure this out.”
He needed to let her keep her secrets, because she had a terrible feeling she might be a trophy fuck for him. She didn’t use that word often, but it was appropriate. She
was
closer in age to his daughters. Maybe this was his midlife crisis, needing a younger woman to make him feel like a younger man.
was
closer in age to his daughters. Maybe this was his midlife crisis, needing a younger woman to make him feel like a younger man.
And hadn’t he once mentioned her needing a daddy figure to take care of her? What she needed was a man who wanted her for herself and screw whatever her name was.
He sat back, released her hand. “I’m not a patient man.”
She had a feeling that wasn’t true at all. Once, when she was a little girl, her daddy’s yard got infested with moles. Her cat Bella sat for hours on the edge of those mole holes. And Trinity had watched Bella—not for hours, because she
had
been a child—but she still remembered Bella’s fascination. Scott was like Bella. He would wait until he wore her down and she stuck her head out of her little mole hole.
had
been a child—but she still remembered Bella’s fascination. Scott was like Bella. He would wait until he wore her down and she stuck her head out of her little mole hole.
Yet as Bella had, he’d quickly get bored with his trophy once he’d caught her.
“It’s just a name,” he cajoled.
It was everything. Her name was her only power.
He glanced to the front of the restaurant, then flipped his gaze back to her. “It’s not so much to ask. Think about it.”
The discussion was over. Which was odd, considering his intensity. Then he started to rise from his seat, tucking his tie close with a hand to his abdomen.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, Dad.”
Trinity froze. All her muscles seized, even her larynx. No. He wouldn’t.
She felt the air shift as if he stepped back from the table.
“Hi, sweetie. Hey, honey.” The smack of the kiss, first one, then another, echoed through the restaurant. Or maybe the sound was just inside her head.
He touched her shoulder. “I want you to meet Jessie.”
Jessie?
One second, two seconds. Then Trinity sucked it up and beamed at them both. They were almost twins, long, silky brown hair, their father’s gorgeous eyes. No fatherly exaggeration, they were beautiful.
A hand on each, he introduced them. “Lexa.” He smiled at one, then the other, in turn. “Brooke.” He turned that smile on Trinity. “My little girls.”
“Oh Dad,” Lexa scoffed, “we’re not
little
girls.” She stuck out her hand. “He’d like to think we’ll never grow up.”
little
girls.” She stuck out her hand. “He’d like to think we’ll never grow up.”
Trinity shook, and Lexa seemed to glow like the angel on top of the Christmas tree.
“Nice to meet you.” Brooke’s grip was firm and her smile slightly standoffish.
Scott seated them both, planting a kiss on the forehead of each of his girls. Then he took his own chair. She noted he did not reach for her hand now, but beneath the table, his knee rested against her thigh as if he’d stamped her as his property.
He’d tricked her and foisted his family on her.
And she wasn’t wearing underwear. Totally pantiless—and braless—she was seated at a table with his daughters.
It was beyond the pale. She had half a mind to walk out, the other half of her mind being totally stunned. Trinity couldn’t remember a time she was speechless. She might not always say the right thing—cases in point, Mr. Wanamaker, Inga Rice, and even her own father on Tuesday night—but she always had
something
to say.
something
to say.
Trinity gathered her wits. “Your daddy’s told me so much about you.” She beamed, glancing at the offending man. And no, she did not miss Brooke mouthing
daddy
with a great big question mark tattooed on her forehead.
daddy
with a great big question mark tattooed on her forehead.
“I’m very proud of them,” Scott added.
“I know you are, poopsie.” Trinity pinched his cheek. Humor flashed in his gaze. “I had no idea they were so close to my own age.” She let her eyes widen with total innocence and turned back to the girls. “I thought you were in middle school.”
A look slashed between the girls, and Scott’s leg tensed next to hers.
“Oh, but I don’t want you to think he’s like robbing the cradle or anything.” She gasped and thrust her hand out, knocking over her wineglass. “Oops, sorry.” She put her fingers to her lips and giggled.
Scott righted her glass and signaled for the waiter. “I didn’t realize you’d had so much to drink,
Jessie
.” He said the name with a definite emphasis. “Maybe you should slow down.”
Jessie
.” He said the name with a definite emphasis. “Maybe you should slow down.”
She shot him a feral grin. “Oh baby, I’ve barely started. Why don’t you pour your little honey-sweetie-girl another glass?” With a little moue, she tapped the stem. “Please, baby? I’m like totally and completely parched.” She punctuated with an eyelash flutter.
His daughters exchanged glances.
“And give your girls a glass, too.”
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