“But you said—”
“And I maintain that. This is wrong. It can’t happen. No touching—well, nomoretouching. But this way I get to see you, and I have no choice but to control myself.”
“I—”
He looked forward again.
“What’re you two whispering about?” my dad teased.
“No work at the dinner table,” Mom said, setting down a dish of lasagna. She began dividing up pieces with a spatula. “But how was it? Did you two get along okay?”
We both nodded silently.
“Did you get your dress, honey?”
“Not yet,” I said, picturing Dean’s personal check still un-cashed in my purse. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
“Well, we can’t wait to see it.”
I picked at my salad, half listening as they discussed the local real estate market and half ignoring Dean’s unmistakable body heat. Trey and the group would be returning from Mexico sometime tonight, so my phone was tucked in one hidden pocket of my dress just in case. My attention returned fully to the conversation when my mom asked, “So, Dean, how are things with Cathy?”
My nostrils flared.Cathy?
“We’re through,” he said. “Have been for a few months now.”
“Really?” I asked sharply.
He fixed a calm gaze on me and raised his eyebrows. “Yes, really.”
“That’s a shame,” Dad said. “She seemed like a nice woman.”
“Cathy?” I asked. “Who’s Cathy?” I couldn’t seem to stop saying her name.
Dean’s hand unexpectedly landed on my thigh, and my body instantly relaxed at his touch. “She was a nice woman,” he agreed, looking back at my dad. “But she’s not what I’m looking for.”
“So what’re you looking for, Dean?” Mom asked. “Let us help. I’d really like to see you settle down with someone. It’s been—how many years? Five? Since Amy—”
“I’d really rather not discuss it,” Dean said.
“I think we should,” I said through a dry throat. “Sounds kind of interesting.”
His hand slid up my thigh, brushing under my dress like it was nothing. “I doubt that,” he replied.
“You’re just such a catch, and even in this community, there are so many women who…and I should’ve invited Vicky over for…loves lasagna, and her recipe for…”
My mom’s voice faded away as Dean’s fingers traced the line of my panties. I shook my head at my plate, but he squeezed my leg. My hand latched over his, pulling at it, telling him“no touching” without words. He wouldn’t budge.
“I appreciate the thought, Deb,” Dean said. “But really, I’m fine. You know how important work is to me.”
“That’s just because you don’t have anyone.”
One finger slipped into my underwear. My cheeks were fiery, my hand clenching around his wrist.
“Well, that’s just not true. I have someone at this very moment.”
My mom’s eyes widened, and I had to look away. “Who?” she exclaimed.
His touch trailed along my slit. He pushed the tip of his finger into my wetness, massaging me softly.
