That Dating Thing (7 page)

“Hmmm.” Her mouth moved into a smirk. “Five seconds ago you were talking a meal. Now it’s a few dinners and a ball game or two. At this rate we’ll be jetting off to Vegas by the end of the week.”

She didn’t try to stop him when he took the final step that brought their bodies within inches of each other. “Has anyone ever accused you of being a wiseass?”

Head cocked as though considering the question, her mouth quivered on a smile. “Nope.”

“How about a liar?”

She lost the battle with the smile and her low laugh sent a lash of desire whipping across his midsection. He did what he’d wanted to do since arriving at his father’s condo days ago. Leaning in, he took...

****

Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.

The chant echoed in her head.

Except this didn’t feel like a mistake. No, this was amazing, and exciting, and…oh, God, so good!

She’d been kissed before. Hell, she’d been engaged, but none of those mouth-to-mouth exercises she shared with Marcus ever came close to this. Compared to Cooper Reed, Marcus kissed like a dead fish.

Skipping right past nice-to-meet-you, Coop jumped straight into an I-couldn’t-wait-another-moment-to-taste-you devouring. He didn’t fumble or grab like some of the men she’d dated. His mouth moved over hers with confident intent in a slow, thorough exploration. The fine hairs on her body lifting as if brushed by an electrical charge. Goose bumps rose and left her chilled, despite the heat of his mouth threatening to burn her alive. He touched her nowhere else, but that didn’t matter. She sensed the caress of his mouth all over, as though she were already naked and spread out for his pleasure.

His lips nibbled and tasted, and when his tongue teased the seam of her lips in a silken caress, she opened her mouth, granting him entrance. His low growl of approval spurred her on and she met his bold foray. Tongues tangling, she thrilled to the strength of his muscled arms wrapping around her and pulling her close.

Mistake!

Some rogue neurotransmitter managed to pierce the hazy bubble of lust threatening to carry her away. The warning shrieked through her brain and she fought against the accompanying panic. Frustration joined the party. There had to be a workable solution, because nothing so pleasant could be wrong.

But the damage was done. She pulled back, her eyelids fluttering open to find his passion-darkened eyes gleaming inches above hers.

“We need to add an addendum to our negotiation.” The low rumble of his voice vibrated through her breasts, crushed to his chest.

She swallowed before she could speak. “Addendum?”

“I think we should add some time in bed to that list of get-to-know-you activities.”

Despite the erratic beat of her heart, she couldn’t help but smile, which increased her panic. A man who could ignite her body with a kiss
and
tickle her funny bone would be hazardous to her equilibrium, and his position with the D.A.’s office made Cooper Reed downright dangerous to the life she’d fought so hard to build. Considering how easily he managed to make her forget that fact, she’d be wise to keep her distance—which wouldn’t be easy, not with the memory of that kiss jabbing at her.

He had just proven his ability to smash through the barriers she threw up. If she didn’t do the smart thing, staying as far away from him as possible, she’d be fighting both Coop and herself, when what she really wanted was to take a chance and see where this explosive attraction between them led.

“Coop.” She dropped her forehead to his chest for just a moment before pressing him back a step. She rested against the bars, grateful for the cage’s support considering the unsteadiness of her legs.

“Rylee,” he echoed, letting her go.

“Like I said, this isn’t a good idea.”

His steady gaze held hers. “You said dinner wasn’t a good idea. But this,” he waved a hand back and forth between them, “this is something else. A woman doesn’t kiss a man the way you just kissed me if she thinks ending up in bed with him is a bad idea.”

“She does if she’s stupid,” she grumbled then rolled her eyes. “And you’re being purposefully obtuse. You know what I mean.”

“What I am being is argumentative. I don’t understand what the problem is, unless you already have a man in your life. Are you and Brian…?”

The absurdity of the suggestion was too much. “Oh,” she snickered. “Brian would bust a gut laughing if he knew you were thinking that. And no, Brian and I are not involved. He’s practically my brother.”

“Then like
I
said, we don’t have a problem.”

She disagreed, but wasn’t about to squabble with a professional arguer. Anything she might say to make her case would be a waste of breath. She crossed her arms.

“I get what you’re saying about Sil and my father, Rylee. I don’t want them hurt, either. We’ve established that neither of us is interested in a relationship, not in the typical sense anyway. We’re two unattached adults suffering from a case of mutual attraction, and I can’t see any reason why we shouldn’t act on that attraction and enjoy each other’s company for a time. With,” he added, raising a hand when she started to object, “an agreement from the beginning that when it’s over, we walk away friends. No hard feelings allowed.”

To enjoy him without worrying about potential, ugly fallout? What a heady temptation. Excitement coursed through her at the scenario he described, her willpower no match for the lure of the untold pleasures shining in his eyes.

No wonder he thrived in his chosen career. The ability to calmly argue his point, combined with those sexy, dark good looks, would sway any jury to his side.

“You sound like a lawyer,” she complained, because she was going to agree to his irresistible proposal, despite knowing she would most likely pay a price in the end.

“And you are beautiful.”

Warmth flooded her body at his softly spoken compliment. The man would charm her out of her panties before she had the chance to blink. Well, she’d be losing them eventually, but they’d be establishing some boundaries before her underwear went anywhere.

“For a time?” she asked.

“Until one or both of us decides the time has come to walk away.”

“And until that happens, we’re exclusive.” She frowned. “When I decide to sleep with a man, I don’t like to share.” Since she had slept with no man but Marcus, and being a cheater wasn’t one of his faults, she’d never given the need to demand exclusivity a thought. It bothered her that she did now.

White teeth flashed when he grinned. His gaze roamed her body before he answered. “Believe me, Rylee, another woman is not going to be a problem.”

Maybe not for him, but the man was a walking, talking, sexual fantasy. For reasons he didn’t understand, and with any luck never would, their association would be short-lived. She did not intend to spend a good portion of their limited time together dealing with potential competitors for his attention.

Thrilled at the promise in his eyes, she lifted a brow and waited.

“Exclusivity goes both ways.”

“That goes without saying.” She waved a hand. “We part as friends, doing everything possible to make sure Sil and Elliott don’t get caught in any kind of crossfire.”

He nodded.

“Well, then.” She heaved a breath. “I guess the negotiations are complete.” Now that they were, her heart raced like a runaway train, and she had no idea what they were supposed to do next. “I’ve never negotiated this type of thing before. What do we do now?”

He chuckled and brushed a fingertip over the curve of her cheek. “First, we relax. This doesn’t have to be complicated, Rylee. Don’t over think it.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m about to have a heart attack.”

He laughed and bending, brushed his lips over hers once more. He straightened before the heat between them could explode out of control.

“We’ll start with that meal. How does your schedule look tomorrow? Can you meet me for lunch? Say, around one?”

“I could do that.”

“Good. What’s your cell number?” He unclipped the phone from his belt.

She recited the number and he punched at the keypad, placing a call. Her annoy-Sil ringtone chimed. She scrambled to pull the phone from her pocket.

“Disney fan or are you a romantic?” he asked, grinning.

She jammed her thumb down on the power button. Disney could have used Coop’s likeness for one of their animated princes. With his head of thick, dark hair and the toothy grin on his handsome face, he had the look.

“Neither,” she said. “Long story.”

“Okay, Snow White,” he chuckled at her smirk, “you have my number. Call me tomorrow and I’ll let you know what time I’ll be free from court.” He clipped his phone back on his belt. “Thank Silvia for me, will you? Her jambalaya is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“You’re leaving?” The question came out as a squeak.

“I’m giving you a little space to get used to the idea of you and me.”

“Oh.”

Confusion beetled her brows. Agreeing with his suggestion that they get to know one another was a big frigging deal, at least for her, and he wanted to leave? Maybe she had misread his signals after all, despite that heated kiss.

He took the small step needed to bring their bodies flush once again. Sandwiched between the bars of the cage and his muscled body, she couldn’t miss one very prominent signal pressed against her belly. She stared up into his heated gaze.

“Unless you’re willing to join me in that bed we discussed right now, I’m going home to take a cold shower.”

Tempted to suggest he use her shower
after
she joined him in the bed just down the hall, she nodded instead. “That might be best.”

“Then I’ll look forward to your call tomorrow.” He stepped back, his intent blue gaze roaming her face before he turned on his heel and left.

She called Pippin back when he tried to follow.

Chapter Seven

The restaurant, upscale and crowded despite the traditional noon rush having passed more than two hours earlier, charmed Rylee with its welcoming atmosphere. She swiveled her head, absorbing every aspect of the converted carriage house as she followed the maitre d’ to a secluded table near the back. Coop rose at their approach, a slow smile spreading across his face, and nerves tap-danced over Rylee’s spine. She smiled and thanked the maitre d’ when he held out her chair.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said once they were alone. “My appointments ran a little long this morning.”

And the last one had been worth the delay. As long as the multiple inspections of the Cain warehouse came back clean, Adam’s House would have its next building, at a price they could afford.

“I just got here myself,” Coop replied. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“You promised me a meal.” She curved her lips in a subtle challenge. “Several, if I recall.

“And I always keep my promises.” He grinned and held out the bottle of wine for her inspection. She nodded and he filled her glass.

The light in his eyes spoke of promises other than food and she suppressed a shiver of anticipation. Having an affair with an assistant district attorney may not be the wisest thing she would ever do, but considering the zing of pleasure careening through her system simply from sitting at a table with him, the risk would be worth the potential fallout.

“This is my first time here.” She picked up her wine, glancing around. Fresh flowers adorned the linen-covered tables. Candlelight created a cozy ambiance, as did the soothing notes of the baby grand piano in the center of the room, tinkling beneath the quiet murmur of conversation. She met his gaze. “It’s lovely.”

“Like you.”

The compliment made her grin. “Nice line, councilor.”

Humor sparkled in his eyes over the rim of his wineglass. “No line.” He set the glass aside and picked up his menu. “Simple truth. Shall we order?”

He asked after her day while they waited for the arrival of their lunches, and she reciprocated, intrigued to learn he’d spent the morning dealing with the suspected Queen’s arsonist. A string of fires had troubled the burrow over the summer. The pre-dawn blazes were the result of Molotov cocktails tossed from a passing car into vacant buildings. Dismissed at first as random pranks by kids, the charge elevated to murder when one of the targeted buildings wasn’t empty after all. Two homeless men perished in the fire.

“I’m glad they finally got him,” she said, suppressing a shudder. “So many fires in such a short time have left people jumpy.”

Coop nodded, waiting until the waiter delivered their plates and left. “What made you decide on dog training?”

“It was more a natural progression than a decision.” The savory aroma of pasta with red peppers and basil teased her nose, making her mouth water. She forked up a bite. “Heavenly,” she moaned and licked her lips. “When I was twelve years-old, I found a stray dog living in the woods behind our house. One of his legs was broken. A car hit him, I think. I knew nothing about dogs, but I couldn’t leave him to suffer.”

“You kept him?”

She nodded. “For three days I worked to gain his trust. Once I had, I snuck him into the house and cleaned him up. When Sil found out she pitched a fit, but I just couldn’t let the poor thing struggle on his own. He’d already been through enough. Long story short, Adam and I convinced Sil we needed a dog and Tri became a member of the family.”

“Tri?”

“The leg needed to be amputated, but that didn’t slow him down. He was the fastest thing on three legs, and the first of many strays I collected. I managed to find homes for most of them, and word of my ability with dogs got around. I earned my first dollar training Mrs. Olsen’s poodle to stop digging up her rose beds.”

He propped his elbows on the table. “So, a psychotic Great Dane is a natural progression from three legged mutts and digging poodles?”

“Pippin isn’t psychotic,” she argued, but smiled.

“All evidence to the contrary.”

“He responded readily enough when you took control of the situation.” She mirrored his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I was very impressed.”