Full Package(48)

“Very good,” Ivory says with a nod. “And you see, class, chocolate is good for the heart because it helps ensure you can last all night long.”

Josie grabs my arm and digs her nails in, no doubt so she doesn’t crack up.

“And now let us enjoy the stimulant,” Ivory says, holding her arms out wide, as if she’s our Sherpa guiding us up the mountain of sexual exploration. “Let us dip the strawberries in the chocolate and feed them to our partners.”

Josie turns to me, a naughty little grin on her face as she holds a strawberry and whispers, “Open wide.”

I do, flicking my tongue out, letting her know what I want to be eating.

My date brings a chocolate-covered strawberry to my tongue. It’s tasty, and I finish it quickly. Then I notice everyone else is moving in slow motion, taking their time with the berries, rolling them around on their tongues, dusting kisses on their partners’ mouth.

Make no mistake—I would love to be kissing Josie right now. But in private. Not on display. I lower my voice. “I feel like we’re in a Lamaze class, and we’re the only ones not totally into it.”

She laughs. “Same here. Also, I already knew all this stuff about the food. Sort of like you and the heart,” she says, tapping mine.

Her hand on me feels good. It reminds me where I want to be.

Not here.

Evidently, she feels the same because she mouths, “Want to make a run for it?”

I lunge as if I’m about to take off in a race. Josie shakes her head, then dips her hand in her purse, fiddles around with something, and soon my phone bleeps loudly from my pocket.

Josie turns her expression to one of worry. “Oh my God, is that the hospital?” she says in a stage whisper.

I slide into my role. “It must be,” I say heavily. “I’m on call tonight.”

I grab my phone, swipe my thumb across the screen, and bring it to my ear, answering it professionally. I pretend to listen to instructions. When the imaginary answering service is through, I say, “I’ll be right there. Make sure to stabilize the patient and start an IV drip.”

All eyes in the room snap to me. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” For Josie’s amusement, I add in a deeply ominous tone, “And whatever you do, Bob, don’t lose the patient.”

Dun. Dun. Dun.

I end the call, and Ivory points to the door. “Go! Godspeed.”

We take off into the Soho night, laughing as we make our great escape from the too touchy-feely cooking lesson.

“What a strange class,” Josie says as we head to the subway. “Funny, because I heard so many raves about it.”

“I get why it’s fun, but maybe it’s not for us. To each his or her own, I suppose. The guy who recommended it liked to hang on chandeliers.”

We stop at the crosswalk, waiting for the light. She looks up at the faint stars in the sky, as if she’s thinking. “The whole idea of aphrodisiacs or sensual food is cool, but maybe it’s not the food that’s sensual.” She meets my eyes. “Maybe it’s the person. Maybe it’s just who you’re with, and it’s not about the candlelight, or the music, or the way you feed someone.”

I drop my hand to her shoulder and serve up the full truth. “Josie, you could eat tuna fish and I’d still be turned on.”

She brings a hand to her chest and bats her eyes. “I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Then we go underground.





27





Let me be perfectly clear. The subway is not an aphrodisiac.

But Josie is.

The whole ride uptown, we talk. About the class. About food. About what might happen on the next season of Vice Principals. She slides her hand into my hair and absently plays with the ends as we talk.

And this, right here, on the noisy, dirty, grimy subway is the true turn-on. Me and my girl, heading home. As the train slaloms past Fourteenth Street, she drops her hand and reaches for mine.

My breath hitches as she squeezes my fingers. That’s all it takes. Her holding my hand. I let my head fall back, hitting the window behind us.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I'm perfect.”

Perfectly ruined for anyone else.

I take our joined hands and press a kiss to her knuckles, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do about the fact that she’s not out of my system. Not even close. Not one single bit.

She rests her head on my shoulder.

We aren’t hand-holders. We aren’t daters. We aren’t affectionate.

At least, not in public.

And in private, we’re usually naked.

But tonight on the train, she’s been playing with my hair, snuggling against me, looping her fingers through mine. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out this is couple behavior, and it’s coming from a woman who made it crystal clear she wanted to be roomies-with-benefits only. Has something changed for her?

A wild idea descends on me. Could she want . . .

No. I can’t let myself think that. It’s crazy, and beyond the realm of expected outcomes.

Even so, my heart skips a beat. My skin heats up. And something like hope makes landfall in my chest. It feels like a wild, crazy possibility, but it’s one I desperately want right now—to simply slide from this phase to the next one without a hitch. To be the exception. To pull this whole crazy thing off.