“We don’t do anything,” I protested. “I told you, I was just distracting him from the argument.”
“Right. You did say that.” She gathered up a bowl of eggs, a couple of colorful peppers, and a small red onion. “It’s none of my business, regardless.”
I sighed heavily when she left, turning my gaze back to Alden. I handed him two of the packages of sausage, and a head of garlic. “Great. Now she thinks we have a thing going on.”
He blinked at me.
“We don’t,” I told him. “I was just distracting you. You know, so you wouldn’t feel awkward around me.”
He stiffened up a bit, and dropped the garlic, and when we both bent down to pick it up, we smacked our foreheads together.
“Ow!” I said, stepping back while rubbing my head.
“Bloody hell,” he said at the same time, dropping first one package of sausage, then the other.
I edged forward carefully, holding out my hands as I bent down. “And this has now turned into a scene from a Three Stooges movie. No, don’t get them—I will. You just stand there and I’ll hand them up, OK?”
“I’m sorry,” he said as I handed him the items before turning back to the ancient refrigerator to get some salad makings. “I’m a clumsy oaf... when things get... it’s...”
“Hard, I know.” I closed the fridge and turned back to smile at him. “Want me to pretend I’m Vandal so you can be mad and articulate again?”
“I’d rather you kissed me again,” he said, and then looked both appalled and surprised by that.
I couldn’t help it; I laughed out loud. “I suppose that makes sense—if it’s a strong emotion that helps you over the hurdle of feeling awkward in situations, then why not lust rather than anger? Although... I feel obligated to point out that wedon’thave a thing going on. I mean, you have this woman coming to see you, and we did just meet, and although I’m a pretty good judge of people, I have never had a relationship with a guy I just met.”
“Nor have I,” he said hastily, an odd look of embarrassment mixed with stiffness crossing his face. “I didn’t mean I wanted to start something with you. I simply thought the kiss was a preferable experience to being angered by Vandal.”
“Well, there I agree with you,” I said, then leaned forward and brushed my mouth ever so lightly against his. “Kiss accomplished. Now you can be as erudite as you like.”
“That wasn’t a kiss,” he said, a little simmer of heat in his eyes distracting me from my better intentions.
I knew I should walk out of there. I knew it, and yet my mouth said, “Oh? Did you have something else in mind?”
“Yes.” He stepped forward one step. Without being aware of it, I moved the remaining distance until our mouths were almost touching. Our bodies certainly were, the cold of the food pressed against my upper stomach doing nothing to detract from the wonderful feeling of his body, all hard lines and heat.
“Like what?” I teased, doing a little shimmy against him, ignoring the slight tickle of arugula where it poked out of its bag and rested between my breasts.
He didn’t answer, not with words, anyway. His mouthwas just as hot and sweet and wonderful as I remembered, and the second his lips met mine, I knew that I was dangerously close to throwing all caution to the wind and pouncing on him.
He kissed with not just his mouth, but his whole body, his arms and chest and legs pressed against me, leaving me wanting to feel his embrace without the irritation of clothing. I wiggled against him again, causing him to moan into my mouth. With the salad items squashed between our chests, I clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer to me.
And just when I was thinking very seriously about proposing we put dinner on hold for a bit while we romped upstairs into the nearest furnished bedroom, he pulled his mouth from mine and said, “You’re squashing my sausage.”
I wiggled again, enjoying greatly the way his eyes momentarily crossed. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt... oh. You meant actual sausage, not your... er...”
He had backed up and held out, with a rueful glance, two packages of now flattened sausage. I touched one of the squashed sausages with a finger. “Well, that’s just...”
“Awkward?” he offered.
I glanced quickly at him, but he was smiling, his eyes now warm and simmering with the heat generated by our kiss. “Only if we tell Vandal how it is his dinner came to be flat instead of round.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said with a jaunty wink, and turned to go back to the kitchen.
I sighed to myself as I watched him go, remindingmyself that he was not available. Oh, sure, he might not mind kissing me, but he was clearly waiting for someone else to arrive. I didn’t like that thought at all, not just because of the obvious, but because it meant Alden had no qualms kissing one woman while waiting for another.
“Right,” I told myself as I plucked a piece of red lettuce from my cleavage. “Arm’s length, that’s the key. Just keep him at arm’s length and all will be well.”
Sometimes, it amazes me at just how naive I can be.
