Page 65 of Raging Fires

Jake grinned, his dimple flashing. “Yeah, it would. Anyway, I didn’t promise her anything. I told her you’d have to make the decision.”

“That’s great. I’ll get on it tomorrow.” Kelli rotated her shoulders and neck.

“Your muscles sore?” Jake asked, watching her.

“Yeah, some. I’m out of the habit of carrying those trays. Or maybe it’s just that I’m older.”

“You don’t look older,” he told her.

Kelli snorted. “Yeah, right. I still look nineteen.”

“Okay, maybe you look a little older, but you look good. Better, even.”

“So you’re going to flirt with me now?” Kelli asked.

“That’s not flirting.” He shrugged. “I’m just being honest.”

Kelli decided to redirect the conversation. “Anyway, it’s not my neck that hurts the most. It’s my feet. These concrete floors are killers.”

“Yeah, I remember. And I used to do this.” He moved his chair closer to the one where she’d rested her feet and reached down to untie the laces of her work boots and pull them off. Setting them on the floor, he picked up one foot and began to massage it.

Kelli thought she ought to pull her foot back and tell him to stop, but it felt too good. She let out a groan of satisfaction. Which she realized sounded way too much like a woman in the throes of passion. It made her blush. But the truth was that the flush rising in her face had less to do with embarrassment than with the feel of Jake kneading the soles of her feet. Every circle of this thumbs, deep and slow, sent desire sizzling up through her, gathering into a heavy ache low in her abdomen. She couldn’t keep from remembering the way it had always ended back when he used to do this.

He set her foot down and began on the other one. Kelli thought that before long she was going to melt down to puddle. The ache had become a throb, tightening her nipples and raising all the nerve endings in her skin. She needed to stop this, take back control.

She straightened, tugging her foot away from him. “I thought we were going to start with a date.” Her voice came out far too breathy, and she had the feeling that the sharp, accusing gaze she aimed at him instead turned into something filled with hunger. Jake smiled slowly. There was no mistaking what the look in his eyes meant.

“Well, hey,” he said, spreading his arms out. “This is a date.” He gestured toward their plates on the table. “We’ve had dinner, and now we’re here conversing over drinks. And wait...” Jake rose and dimmed the lights, so that the bar was now lit with a low mellow glow. He continued into the kitchen and returned with one of the emergency candles for when a fuse blew. “And candlelight.” He lit the candle, dripped wax onto a jar lid and settled the candle in it. “We even have music.” He pulled out his phone and thumbed through it, and the sound system popped to life. Jake smiled at her. “See? Our first date.”

Kelli had to laugh. “You are such a goof.”

“Yeah, but you’ll keep me around to massage your feet.”

“It might be worth it,” she agreed. Kelli pulled her feet down and shoved them back into the boots, retying the laces

Jake stood up and came around to her, holding out a hand. “How about a dance?”

Heat snaked through her as she thought of the last time they danced… his hands, his kiss, the way she melted inside. “Better not,” she murmured, but she gave him her hand anyway and followed his gentle tug out onto the floor. “Remember, we don’t know each other well, so keep your hands to yourself.”

“Ah, Kell, after we’ve had this fine dinner? And a concert? Talking over drinks? I’m getting the vibe.”

“The vibe?” She grinned.

“Yeah, you know, when you’re thinking, hey, this chick is super-hot, and she likes me.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

“You’re right; that’s me,” Jake conceded. “You’re thinking, ‘Wow, this guy is a hunk and so smooth. Famous and a bad boy, too, but the good kind of bad, you know. What more could I want?’”

“Wow, I’m thinking a lot more than you. But, then, I guess that’s typical.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay. No groping while we’re dancing. How’s this?” he pulled her closer, his hand at her waist. His other hand curved over hers, enclosing it, and held it against his chest, folding around her.

At least it wasn’t the same song they’d danced to at their wedding. Weddings. She couldn’t have taken that. But his arms were around her, his body warm against hers; she could feel his breath on her hair. The song was slow and smooth, a woman’s voice caressing the notes. And everything about it felt so, so good.

It’d be easy to melt again, but this time she knew it would end up in bed, and even though she’d agreed to his weird scheme, she was going to take it slow. Give herself time to think when she wasn’t tired and her defenses down.

“I never danced in work boots before,” she said. “It feels clunky.”