That Dating Thing (11 page)

The mirror beside the door reflected the confident eyes of a woman on a mission. A miracle, considering she was shaking in her heels. She ran a hand down the skimpy cocktail dress, resisting the urge to tug at the short hem. Viewed critically, with its miniscule straps, plunging bodice and I-dare-you hem, the siren red dress was an in-your-face statement. Through with waiting for Coop to follow through on those bejeezus kisses, tonight she’d be adding a new ingredient to the mix. Seduction was on the menu.

For days she bounced back and forth between “it’s time” and “it’s time to run”. Decision made, she was pulling out all the stops, starting with this sexy, little red number. If necessary, she would resort to some of that tripping. Cooper Reed would not be leaving the building until she’d had her way with him.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Coop’s lazy blue gaze skimmed from the top of her head to her three-inch heels and back up again. “Nice dress.”

“This old thing?”

She grinned when he smiled, and invited him in with a beckoning finger.

“Something smells good,” he commented, closing the door.

“I hope you don’t mind.” She lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “I felt the urge to cook.”

“If whatever I smell is half as good as your soup, I’m sure I won’t mind at all.”

“Would you like a drink?” she asked, moving toward the kitchen.

“What are you having?”

“I have a nice red to go along with the manicotti. It’s breathing on the counter, unless you’d like something else.”

“That’ll do. Shall I pour?”

“Thanks. Glasses are on the top shelf.” She pointed to a high, glass-fronted cabinet.

He moved toward the counter, and she stole the opportunity to give him the once-over. The tailored business suit did nothing to disguise the masculine grace of his movements. He reached high to pluck down two glasses, his linebacker shoulders flexing, and she swallowed.

Just when did I become such a rabid shoulder woman?
The hem of his jacket shifted, and she dropped her gaze to the tight curve of male buttock the movement exposed.
And a butt connoisseur
?

He turned to face her, two glasses of dark red wine in hand, and she blinked. A slow smile spread across his face as he held one out to her. She accepted the offered glass and he clinked the rims together.

“To dining in.”

The heat in his eyes seared her, and the already erratic thump of her heart kicked into overdrive.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Good call, Brian! I might just be able to pull this off—if I don’t have a heart attack in the process.

Hip cocked against the counter, he sipped at the wine and glanced around. “No roommates tonight?”

“They’re upstairs visiting grandma and grandpa.”

He paused with the glass an inch from his mouth, his smile wry. “I just got a picture of Dad, attempting to bounce Pippin on his knee.”

She grinned, pulling the chilled Caesar salad from the fridge.

“I don’t know Sil well enough,” he continued, “but I can imagine Elliott’s reaction to hearing himself referred to as grandpa.”

“He likes Pippin.”

“One-hundred-sixty pounds of sharp teeth and uncontrollable enthusiasm? What’s not to like?” He chuckled at her smirk. “I was referring to the grandpa part.”

“Don’t you ever plan to have kids?” The question slipped out and she cringed. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “Forget I asked.”

“Why?” His intent gaze tangled with hers. “It’s a logical question. I haven’t given kids a lot of thought. Someday, I guess. What about you?”

“Someday, I guess,” she parroted. “Bring the wine, will you?”

She stepped past him, set the salad on the table, and sat down. He followed, taking the seat across from her, and accepted the plate she offered.

“That’s the thing about people like us,” he said, continuing the dangerous thread of conversation she’d foolishly introduced. “When you’re not interested in a relationship, the concept of kids isn’t an immediate consideration.”

She passed him the covered basket of rolls without comment.

“Was it ever for you?”

“Was what ever what?” she asked, stifling a groan.

“An immediate consideration. Was there ever a man in your life who made you think of white picket fences and the expected two-point-five kids?”

Crap
.

Her failed engagement was the last thing she wanted to discuss. The subject would only bring more questions. Maybe she should take Brian’s advice and climb into Coop’s lap, after all.

“There was a guy once when I was in college,” she admitted reluctantly.

“What happened?”

“I was young and he was a dick.” She busied her shaking hands by slathering butter over a roll. “We both learned a valuable lesson.” She attempted to shove the conversation along in another direction. “What about you? Any potential ex-Mrs. Reeds in your past?”

He smiled. “None.”

“Ever been close?”

He shook his head.

“Hmmm…” She cocked her head to study him, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t immediately pepper her with questions. “What are you, thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

“You know.” She waggled her fork at him. “When a man reaches his mid-thirties without ever having been seriously tangled with a woman, it means one of two things.”

Humor brightened his eyes at her challenging smile. “For the record, I’m heterosexual.”

“Phew!” She batted her lashes in exaggerated relief. “For a minute there you had me worried.” He chuckled. “From what Lilly says, you have a master’s degree in interviewing candidates, but you are still taking your prerequisites in the actual hiring.”

“Lilly always did have an interesting way with words.”

“Which leaves commitment issues.”

“Bingo.”

“They say admitting the problem is the first step to recovery.”

“If recovery is the goal.” The teasing humor faded from his eyes, replaced by guardedness. “I’m content with the status quo.”

“Oka-a-ay,” she drew out the word. “New subject.” She rose from the table and headed for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “How about them Yankees?”

He laughed and the subtle tension passed.

“Sil seems pretty excited about the foundation’s Fourth of July fundraiser,” he said when she returned. “Are you going?”

“Of course.” She handed him a plate of manicotti and slid back into her chair. “Are you?”

“I am now.”

His eyes were full of seductive promises, his tone deep with the tug of sexual awareness. She stifled a shiver, tempted to sit back and wait, see what he would do next. Maybe he’d just been biding his time, adhering to the mythical third date rule himself.

God, she hoped so, because she sucked at vamping. The minute she opened her mouth, she walked them straight into a philosophical cold shower. Kids and commitments, and white picket fences, for crying out loud! Could she have chosen a topic less likely to whip a man into a sexual frenzy?

But as the meal progressed, though he responded to her clumsy attempts at flirtation, he made no moves of his own. Clearly, if she wanted carnal knowledge of Coop tonight, she would have to be the one to initiate it.

“About the fundraiser,” he said, following her into the kitchen and handing her the cloth he’d used to wipe up the remnants of their meal. She flipped off the faucet, leaving the manicotti pan to soak, and faced him. “Do you have any contacts on the inside?” he teased. “I don’t seem to have a ticket.”

Dinner over, she was no closer to achieving her goal than when he’d arrived. Time to step up the effort.

“I might know someone.” She cocked her head, pulling out her best effort at seductive persuasion. Dipping her chin, she peeked at him from below her lowered lashes and pursed her lips in a pout. “But the tickets are hard to come by. What are you willing to pay?”

God, she sounded like an overblown actress in a B movie.

Humor danced in his eyes and her heart sank. Was he laughing
at
her? Okay, this was ridiculous. Time to try a different tack. She straightened her spine and opened her mouth to ask him flat out why he had yet to take her to bed when he stepped forward, crowding her against the counter. He dipped his head, stopping when his mouth was a breath from hers.

“What did you have in mind?”

Hmmm, maybe she hadn’t totally mucked this up. Before she could chicken out, she rested her hands against his lapels, running them up and around the back of his collar. Rising on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his in a barely-there caress. “Let me think,” she whispered.

Fingers tangled in his hair, she pulled his head down. She put all she was into the kiss, opening her mouth to his tongue, thrilled when he accepted her invitation with enthusiasm. His tongue sank deep, warm and flavored with wine, the slight tang of her red sauce and Coop himself. He took charge. As though released from some invisible chain, his arms came around her, yanking her close. The violent shudder of his big body shook her all the way down to her soul.

Hot damn
, she crowed silently.
Rylee Pierce, vamp extraordinaire!

Chapter Eleven

When she melted against him in unspoken surrender, relief crumbled under Coop’s need to devour her whole. He accepted what she offered so sweetly, and then demanded more. Tucking her close, he groaned at the way her curves molded to the hard planes of his body. Everything male in him snapped to attention, muscles tightening, blood surging in anticipation of masculine victory. Finally, the waiting was over.

Charmed by her hesitant attempt at seduction, bold one moment, unsure the next, he’d spent the last hour forcing himself to hold back. Instead of swiping the table clean of her delicious meal and spreading her out on the glossy wooden surface, he reminded himself to let her come to her own conclusion on how tonight would end.

But holding back was no longer an option, not with her body plastered to his. The spark of attraction simmering between them from their first meeting burst into a raging inferno and Coop welcomed the lick of flames.

He allowed his need free rein to taste, to touch—to possess. Tongues tangling in a pitched battle of greedy pleasure, his hands discovered the curves that haunted his dreams. His fingers curled around the globes of her ass, sinking into the rounded flesh responsible for that “follow me, big boy” walk of hers. He ground her mound against his erection, his low groan matching hers.

She wiggled her hips beneath the pressure of his hold and the friction shot a flood of white-hot adrenaline straight to his groin. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow. He considered dragging her to the floor, but the desire for the comfort of a bed stopped him.

He gentled their kiss, nibbling at her lips as they continued to reach for his. She suddenly stiffened in his arms and he lifted his head, opening his eyes to find hers squeezed tight.

“Rylee?”

She shook her head.

“Rylee, look at me.”

Her lashes fluttered open to reveal eyes black with frustration. She attempted to push out of his arms, but he held her steady.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“To find a weapon,” she ground out. “If you tell me you have a brief you need to work on, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

He grinned. “No brief. And I’m not going anywhere, except to find a bed.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Good.” Her tense shoulders relaxed and she settled in his arms once again. “Because I have to tell you, that habit you have of kissing me senseless and then disappearing is really annoying.”

“Not to mention uncomfortable.” He flexed his hips to show her the exact location of his discomfort.

“Serves you right,” she accused. “You’ve been confusing the crap out of me.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”

She toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well, stop. It’s irritating.”

“Done,” he said immediately and she laughed. “About that bed?”

“Follow me.”

She turned and he grabbed her hand, but didn’t follow. He waited until she paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

“Are you sure, Rylee? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

She faced him, her smile wry. “I was sure two weeks ago. You’re a temptation I can’t seem to resist, despite my better judgment,” she admitted artlessly. “My brain just needed a little while to catch up with my libido. As for future regrets,” she shrugged, “they’re unavoidable.”

The conversation wasn’t going the way he’d expected, but frankly, his body didn’t give a damn. She’d just announced she wanted him as badly as he did her, and every male instinct screamed at him to do something about it. But the odd sadness in her eyes made him hesitate. “If you’re not ready…”

“Do I look like I’m not ready?”

“You look like every man’s dream.”

She smiled, rose up on her toes to brush his mouth with hers, and then tugged on his hand as she backed through the condo toward the hallway.

He’d discover the reason for her sadness later. With a wide step forward, he scooped her against him. Her low laughter and slender legs wrapping around his waist tossed fuel on the inferno. One arm beneath her bottom, he went in search of a bed.

“Which way?” he demanded between kisses.

“Turn right.” She clung to him, yelping on a laugh when he tumbled with her onto the big four-poster.

The thin straps of her dress fell victim to his haste, but she laughed at the sound of rending cloth while her fingers tore at the knot of his tie. Unable to resist all that gleaming skin, he explored the curve of her shoulder and delicate collarbone with an open mouth. He tugged at the delicate cloth, peeling away the sexy, red temptation to discover she wore no bra, and swallowed with an audible click.

Under her working fingers, he shrugged his shoulders free of both his suit jacket and the shirt she’d unbuttoned, his eyes never leaving the generous mounds of her breasts. Her dusky pink nipples pouted up at him and he lowered his head to capture a peak between his lips. With a growl, he yanked the material from his arms, sending it flying across the room, and then settled down to worship her, as she deserved.