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wasn t talking about the food, Tate. Dropping his mouth over hers, he coaxed her tongue to tangle and retreat with his. Wet. Warm. Hungry. He kissed her the single-minded way she d longed for all day; like she was the appetizer and he was ravenous. His hair flowed around them and she twisted her fingers through the silky strands. A man with long hair was a novelty. She imagined that -76- Dirty Deeds satin curtain falling over her, caressing her neck, her breasts, their tangled bodies. Nathan slicked his tongue over her teeth, under her top lip, exploring every slick inch of her mouth. She trembled at the unfamiliar sensation, impulsively moving her hips closer to his. The water boiled over on the stove, popping and hissing on the burner. Grudgingly, she released him. Sounds like the pasta is done. Good. I m starved. But first, where is your washer? Around the corner on the porch. Tate grabbed the chili pepper potholders and dumped the contents of the pot into the colander in the sink. Why don t you sit down and I ll bring everything out? Nathan hesitated in the doorway, large hands dwarfing the blue bottle of laundry detergent. You don t have to service me. She twisted toward him. What did you say? Just what you heard. He cleared his throat and offered her a sheepish grin as he set the soap on the floor. But what I meant was, you don t have to serve me. I can help. Fine. Grab some salad dressing from the fridge and light the candles. Placing the pasta on the Fiesta-ware platter, she poured the thick, fragrant white sauce over the spinach noodles. However, I do believe that was a Freudian slip. Probably. He held a jar of ranch dressing in one hand and Green Goddess in the other as they trooped into the dining room. Can you blame me for being leery of you? Hah! She d love it if he leered at her just once tonight. Yet she couldn t ignore the fact that Nathan-the-magnificent was scared of golly- gee-whiz-All-American-girl-next-door Tate? A thrill raced through her as she gripped the wine bottle. Why? Lots of reasons. His quick shrug fell short of nonchalant. Mostly because you re a sophisticated city girl. Not really, she said. Remember I spent summers in this small town you still call home. -77- Lorelei James He lit the wicks and settled in the ladder-back chair. I d forgotten that. Anyway, fear of disappointment runs both ways. The wine glugged as she poured. She peeked at him through lowered lashes. Are we talking about disappointing me with the landscaping project? No. The sex lessons? she asked hopefully. Nathan reached for his wine. Yes. I m talking about the sex lessons. She resisted the urge to shout Hallelujah! and launch herself straight on his lap. Too bad Aunt Bea s rickety chairs would collapse under her exuberance. She traced the rim of her wineglass with a single finger. Hmm. Maybe we should get that awkward first time over so we can relax and set higher expectations for round two. With a wicked grin she added, Got any after dinner plans? -78- Dirty Deeds Chapter Seven Nathan choked on his merlot. Like tonight? After supper? Tate s eyes went wide. You taking off right after we eat? No. But because I got called away during our original discussion, we didn t get into specifics on& certain details of these lessons . He piled a gigantic helping of steaming pasta on his plate and three slices of buttered bread. She savored the smoky wine and watched the colors change from maroon to magenta in the facets of the crystal. We didn t discuss frequency either. Frequency? The silver fork loaded with noodles had stopped halfway to his mouth. How many times we re going to& have lessons. He managed to start chewing, albeit very slowly. Since I m working here on Saturday, he paused to wipe his mouth on the linen napkin, we should plan on spending that evening together. You know. To work on our lessons. Another bite of pasta, which he chased with a healthy swig of wine. This is really good. Tate frowned, ignoring the compliment. He only wanted to spend one night out of seven with her? If she was supposed to make time to get to know him and his wacky ideas for romance, when would they have time for art lessons? Or more importantly sex lessons? Especially when the crazy man worked himself into the ground and was unavailable during the week? You never scowl. What s wrong? Can t be the food since I didn t cook. -79- Lorelei James She twirled her pasta through the thick, creamy sauce, but she didn t glance up. Nor did the fork approach her mouth. I thought we d& never mind. He sighed. She could almost hear him counting to ten. How often did you have in mind? Everyday. At least once. Definitely more than once a week. Nathan s answering laugh was low and dangerous. Can you see why I m frightened of you? Why? Because I speak my mind? No, because you re trying to change mine. He squeezed her hand in that chivalrous, it ll-be-all-right manner. Tate wanted to stab him with her fork just to get some kind of passionate reaction out of him. Talk about depraved behavior. Come on, eat, he urged, putting an end to her violent thoughts. Your dinner is getting cold. Can we talk more about this later? Hooray. More talking. She downed her wine and reached for a refill. Planted a fake smile on her face. Sounds good. The rest of the meal passed pleasantly. And if it hadn t been for the fact they weren t exploring the nuances of each other s naked bodies, Tate would have considered the evening a rousing success. Nathan LeBeau was a funny, well-rounded, interesting man. So why was she far more interested in watching that well-rounded rear end of his pumping in and out of her? Earth to Tate. Why the dreamy expression? The desperate-for-action part of her wanted to confess the seamy direction her thoughts had taken just to shock the bemused look from his handsome face. She refrained and awarded herself a mental pat on the back. See? She could act completely unaffected. Even when her steamy ideas had almost started her brain smoking and set her hair on fire. Finished? -80- Dirty Deeds Yes. Thank you. He shoved his empty plate aside and scooted his chair back against the wall when she stood and gathered plates. Are we gonna do this right here? Tate froze. He had a change of heart? Were her fantasies finally about to come true? She scrutinized his face for an answer, but he was surprisingly calm for a man about to shed his clothes. Umm. Don t you think we d be more comfortable in the living room? Nathan ran his hand along the flat plane of the table and gave it a resounding smack. Wouldn t you prefer a harder, more sturdy surface? Oh mama. What did the man plan on doing to her that he required such durability? The dirty dishes in her hands almost crashed to the floor. She stuttered, S-sure. Whatever you think will work best. He frowned and glanced through the paint-taped archway separating the dining and kitchen areas from the rest of the house. Where do you normally do this? Tate deliberated on a breezy reply of everywhere or offering the sad truth that her sexual exploits had always begun and ended in a bedroom. While she pondered her answer, he hefted a ratty cardboard box on the table. Ah. Your art supplies are right here, you must do this in the dining room. You were talking about art lessons? What did you think I was talking& She saw the moment the light bulb clicked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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