Valentine's Day Is Killing Me (13 page)

“Yeah…” he said slowly, his smile feeling too wide as it spread on his face from her heat. He looked at his sticky fingers. “And I probably need to wash my hands.”

They both laughed.

She dropped her keys twice, fumbling with the door. Dating etiquette raced through her mind. What was protocol, and according to whom? She tried not to seem nervous and to keep her conversation light and airy as she opened her door and they went up the steps.
It had been more than three years
. There had to be some clemency in that. The dating pundits would have to forgive her, because this man had her dangerously on the edge of propriety.

But she would be cool, she told herself. She tried not to wig as he crossed her threshold. She hadn’t had a man in her apartment
for years
. What was the procedure? The magazines were at odds—the more racy articles suggested just letting the inner tigress out. The more conservative ones said, not on the first date. Her momma’s advice went out with high-button shoes, but did it? Her girlfriends were no help; they even contradicted themselves.

“Okay, this is it,” she announced.

The look on his face was somewhere between sucker-punched and open desire. When his full lips parted and he began inhaling through his mouth at the same time his eyes went to half-mast, she knew she had to clarify fast.

“My humble little abode,” she quickly corrected. She did a comical pirouette in the middle of the floor, thoroughly flustered that he’d taken what she’d said the wrong way—or maybe the right way; either way, it came out a little too direct. “You can hang your coat there, the kitchen is that way, or if you want to wash your hands in the bathroom, it’s that way. Oh, let me take your coat. You hungry—no, we just ate. Uh, coffee. Right. Coffee.”

She watched him slowly unzip his bomber jacket and lower his head as though trying not to burst out laughing.

“Jocelyn, coffee is fine. I can find my way to the bathroom.”

“Good!” she said too loudly. “I’ll make coffee, okay?”

He nodded, chuckled softly, and walked through her living room. She almost passed out when he left the room, and she grabbed onto the coatrack to keep from falling down. Idiot! How could she sound so lame?

She snatched off her coat and flung it on the rack, tugged her sweater down, and made a mad dash for the kitchen. Where was her coffee? She yanked open cabinets, frantically searching in them like she’d been robbed. Jocelyn froze. This could not be happening. The post-party recovery had exhausted her supply. Supply—oh, Lawd…she had no supplies in case of emergency…If this tall hunk busted a romantic move and swept her off her feet, her medicine cabinet was bare. No birth control! Everything had gone in the trash with the last bogus boyfriend and was history. Ancient history.

Anything that might have been salvaged from SueLin’s erotic product dealer had been either taken downtown for evidence, or thrown in a garbage bag by her professor. She almost groaned out loud.

Jocelyn peered at the two huge black bags tied up and leaning against the lower cabinets by the trash, and cringed. A small part of her had momentarily considered ripping through the carnage to salvage a prewrapped condom, but she counted to ten and got her mind right. Now how would that look? Digging through post-party refuse like a drug addict for supplies just to get with this absolutely fabulous man? Her hands were shaking; she wrapped her arms about herself. She was not going there. But her eyes never left the trash. Would she? No. Definitely not protocol. Three years…Maybe. No, Jocelyn Jefferson, where is your pride?

When he walked back into the living room, she almost jumped out of her skin. She didn’t know what to do, and an awkward apology stumbled to her lips.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” she said, half ready to laugh, half ready to cry. Unwittingly, she began wringing her hands and peering at him through the pass-through. “See, what had happened was, I thought I had something in here, and I don’t. I…it’s been so long—coffee was on my market list—but I didn’t expect to have company, and uh…uh, I’m—”

“Jocelyn,” he said gently. “It’s all right. You weren’t expecting me to just fall by, and I understand.” His smile was warm and friendly, but his eyes burned with a silent intensity. “This was spur of the moment, and happened kinda fast. Neither one of us is prepared.”

She closed her eyes, trying to stop the ringing in her ears. She’d heard him loud and clear, both the spoken and unspoken message contained in his meaning. Although it was disappointing, it was so very endearing to know that he wasn’t the kind of guy that just kept a stash in his wallet. Oh, yeah, big brownie points. This man was nice, on top of it all. Charming, to make matters worse. A real gentleman, which oddly cut her heart out and made her want him all the more. Her father had to be looking down from heaven, laughing his natural behind off.

Jocelyn wrapped her arms around herself again and stared at the floor. She couldn’t get this whole dating game thing down to save her life. She’d never be a domestic diva like her mother, a carefree sex kitten like Tina, or a sultry temptress like Freddie, and forget ever holding a candle to Jacqui, the love goddess. Four older fairy godmothers had even tried to come to her rescue, and all she’d managed to do was get arrested.

Ray’s tall figure cast a shadow in the kitchen door-frame; the only saving grace was the man seemed to take her kookiness in stride and had the decency to still have a gentle smile on his face. When he neared her, he placed a finger under her chin and made her look up. No “date” had ever done something that tender, and so easily, to her in all her life.

He didn’t know where to begin. He wasn’t sure what he could say to help her relax. He’d been so overwhelmed by her presence that he hadn’t even taken off his firearm, which now weighed heavily in its shoulder harness. He was blowing this whole thing with her, big-time. Hadn’t dated in so long that he wasn’t sure what the rules of engagement were anymore. It was clear this whole thing was moving too fast when he’d reentered the room and she’d looked like a deer caught in the headlights. And why that meant so much to him, he wasn’t even sure. But it did. Just as her clumsy way of telling him she’d changed her mind and was out of coffee made all the difference in the world.

It drew him to her from a place well above his belt buckle, and made his arms enfold her…made his eyes slide closed, and the sensation of her warmth tilted his head so that he could rest his cheek on the top of her head. “We’ll get coffee, maybe if you feel like it, the next time we go out. Cool?” He felt her body begin to relax and her arms slowly unfold as she nodded.

“I thought I had coffee in here, you know, and then…I didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of her head. Couldn’t help himself, and her hair smelled so good. Was dark honey velvet, just as he’d imagined. “It’s all right. I can wait till later.”

He was rewarded by her warmth that molded against him in a perfect fit.

“Really?” she whispered. “You’re not disappointed?”

He looked at her and shook his head no, devastated by what she offered instead that was so much more than just her body. “Uh-uh. Not at all.”

“I really like you,” she said quietly, touching the side of his face with the tips of her fingers. “I hope you’ll come back for coffee soon.”

“I really do like you, too, Jocelyn Jefferson,” he murmured. “You’re a rare find. I’ll be back for that—soon, if you want me to…trust me.”

He waited, let her find his mouth, not pressuring her, and allowing her to decide. She took his mouth with such a tender question in her eyes that he offered his return kiss to her softly and let her slowly explore it, not demanding. But as her tongue timidly tangled with his, and found soft tissue that hadn’t yielded to another’s for so long, her gentle ministrations sent a shudder through him that heaven and earth couldn’t have stopped.

His hands ached to slide down her shoulders and find that dip in her back that gave rise to her luscious bottom. Only a thin thread of restraint kept him from pulling out of the kiss, deeply inhaling her hair, and running his fingers all through it. She felt so good against him, a burning, handcrafted fit. Her skin was so soft, he could only imagine the heat of it belly to belly. When her breasts pressed against his chest, he could feel every texture beneath her fuzzy pink sweater down to her pouting nipples, and it made his sting, fired the entire surface of his skin with need, and stole his breath.

Her skirt was hitching up on the zipper of his pants as she leaned against him, still stealing his breath, making it almost impossible to focus on walking out the door. He wanted to move against her in a rhythm denied for too long, but he tried not to offend, or drive himself insane by starting what he wasn’t going to finish. However, her kiss was unraveling his intentions and stifling a moan as her pelvis swept across the throbbing ache within his. He had to go.

He gently pulled back but held her upper arms firmly. “I should probably go…and I’ll bring coffee the next time I come over, or we go out. Cool?”

She nodded, breathing hard, which was really messing with his mind. He didn’t want to leave, but definitely couldn’t stay—not in this condition. He was no longer making sense.

“I’ll have coffee the next time you come over, I promise.” She raked her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. “Count on it.”

He remained frozen where he stood. The look on her face was making it impossible to leave. “I can run out and get some, and come back…if you want me to?”

She stared up at him for what felt like a long time. The pained expression on his face was doing something to the rational side of her brain. The man was speaking in jags and halts, but had backed up. He’d felt like hot concrete against her, and she didn’t want even a sliver of cold air to come between them to stop the sensation. Her mouth ached for want of the lost kiss. Common sense dictated that a decision had to be made. He held a plea in his eyes, the same one that had imploded between her thighs and strummed an argument to hurry up and go get coffee—black, strong, no sugar.

“There’s a 7-Eleven around the corner.”

He nodded. “I’ll take out your trash on the way out, and will be back in a minute.”

This man was gonna take out her trash? Oh, this one was a keeper.

“Take out my trash,” she whispered with a low chuckle, “and I’ll be forced to marry you.”

He brushed her mouth with a kiss, and reached for the filled bags resting against the lower cabinets. “I’ll be back…with coffee for the morning.”

Ohmigod, did he mean morning, as in, he’d be back tomorrow? Or, morning as in, baby-I’ll-rock-your-world-all-night-until-we-need-coffee-in-the-morning? She couldn’t breathe. She was about to hyperventilate. Raymond Mayfield had better get his butt back here in five minutes, or she’d die.

Jocelyn closed her eyes, leaned against the wall, and only listened as he crossed the room, set the heavy bags down, and put on his coat. She couldn’t watch his body move any more, too painful; 7-Eleven felt like it was in Russia somewhere. When the door slammed, she clutched her stomach. Her mind was on one track, processing the vibration from the hard jar that sent a tremor through the plaster into her spine as a touch.

It took her a few moments to push herself away from the counter and begin walking toward the bedroom. She flipped on the stereo and selected her most evocative CDs. They were both past the point of no return; she’d have to figure out the error of her ways tomorrow. But one thing for sure—she had to keep moving to work off the nervous energy he produced.

She glanced at the telephone as she passed it. The message light was blinking an omen, but she already knew who’d called. Her AWOL girlfriends had finally made contact. Her mother would be on the line thanking her for the flower delivery as a ruse to grill her about her Valentine’s exploits and to offer a healthy dose of guilt. They would
all
have to wait. Semisweet dark chocolate was about to be delivered in a package that she’d only dreamt of. The bow around it was awesome, and she’d enjoy unwrapping it very slowly. Death by chocolate—she could live with that.

The doorbell sounded, and she literally ran for the intercom, breathless. She didn’t even ask the standard ‘who is it’ question. Her body was on fire.

Jocelyn depressed the buzzer with her eyes closed and dabbed the thin sheen of perspiration that had formed on her brow. She ignored the telephone as it began to ring—not tonight. Her girls could wait, so could her momma. When the buzzer sounded a second time, she leaned on it. This man
had
to come back and finish what he’d started.

This woman had entered his nervous system so hard and so fast that he might as well have been in a prize-fight with no headgear on. He was taking out her trash, ready to put down roots and turn in his bachelor’s badge for good. Sucker-punched, he was down for the count, tasting canvas, was seeing double and still had a buzz ringing in his ears. This was
the one
. Happened just like that. Knew all he needed to know about this woman, who was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. A man was not a complex being—didn’t women know that? Basic. But it was too crazy that the only woman he’d trusted like this was the only one he’d arrested. The irony was not lost on him at all.

Ray walked to the side of the building with effort and dropped the bags. The buzz was getting louder, just like his need to be in Jocelyn’s arms was getting stronger every second that passed. He hauled the bags into the Dumpster and tried to shake the incessant buzzing out of his head. Damn, he’d never experienced anything like this. Jocelyn Jefferson almost made him propose with two bags of garbage in his fists. Whew! He had to get it together.

He straightened his back and breathed in the cold night air. When he returned to her apartment, he needed to be cool. Take it slow, not just drop a box on her nightstand and go for broke. But she’d produced vertigo, had made him ache so badly that he could barely walk. Yet, there was something buzzing…and it wasn’t coming from inside his head.

Raymond glanced around and then followed the sound. Against his better judgment, he pushed the Dumpster out a bit with a grunt, and listened. He stooped and reached out his hand and began clearing away a few pieces of stray paper on top of dirty snow, following the sound, and his hand came in contact with vibrating, icy metal. Police instinct kicked in. He used a glove to pick up the object and then peered up at Jocelyn’s back deck and over to the attached fire escape. A very bad feeling worked him.