The Best of Us (Sullivan's Crossing #4)(33)

“I’ll walk you to the car.”

Braving rejection, he grabbed her hand as he walked with her down the porch steps and to her car, and she didn’t pull away. Standing beside the driver’s door, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for dinner,” he said. “I like the time we spend together.”

“So do I, Sully.”

“You’re an awful pretty lady,” he said.

“You’re a handsome man,” she said.

“And you have such an imagination. In all things.”

She laughed. But then she leaned toward him and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

He was taken by complete surprise and was frozen in place. Finally he said, “You gonna write tomorrow?”

“I write every day, Sully. Are you saying your porch is available?”

“For you,” he said, nodding.

She reached into her duffel and pulled out a copy of her book The Dark End of the Beach. It was an eerie-looking cover—black rocks and sand and blue water. “Good God, woman. I might have to read in daylight!”

She laughed and touched his cheek. “I’ll protect you,” she said. Then she slid into her car.

Leigh had spent an entire afternoon on the internet, trying to find a recipe she could manage. Make that manage to not screw up. Video instructions helped. She finally settled on a chicken enchilada casserole done in the slow cooker. She vaguely remembered something like that from her college days—one of her girlfriends used to make it. She threw together a salad and bought a cheesecake.

Then, since Helen wasn’t going to be there for dinner, Leigh took a long soak, shaved above the knees, gave herself a pedicure, set the table and ended up ready an hour early. From the way Rob kissed her on their date last weekend, she had a pretty good idea he was angling for sex. She thought she really shouldn’t. Though she’d known him for nearly a year, they’d only had what she could call a relationship for a short time. And how much time is actually required?

Finally there was a knock at the door, and when she opened it, there he stood with a bottle of wine and a fistful of flowers. It made her laugh. Aside from her young fiancé many, many years ago, no man had brought her flowers. A couple of times she had received flowers the day after, which was a whole different thing. But this was so adorable.

“How sweet,” she said. “Did you steal them from anyone’s garden?”

“I did!” he said. “Mrs. Pritchart, my next door neighbor. She was outside with her rake in hand and I told her I had a date and could sure use some flowers. She was so excited I was afraid she’d stroke out, but she clipped a few stems for me.” He sniffed the air. “Enchiladas?”

“How do you do that?”

“I’m a professional,” he said with a laugh. Then he looked at the table, attractively appointed for two. “Where’s Aunt Helen?” he asked.

“At the Crossing. For dinner.”

“We’re alone?”

She nodded.

He put his flowers and wine on the table. “For how long?”

“I don’t know. The last time she had dinner at Sully’s, I was with her and we stayed till almost nine. Helen’s not much of a night person. She stays awake, reading, but—”

That fast, his hands were on her cheeks, his long fingers threaded into her hair, his lips on her lips. He caught her in the middle of a word, leaving her lips parted for his, making that first kiss of the night so deep, so intimate. With a will of their own, her arms went around him, holding him. He tilted his head once, then the other way, deepening the kiss as he moved over her mouth. “Wait,” she said, breathless. “Where are your kids?”

He didn’t allow much space. He whispered into her mouth. “Finn is where Finn always is these days, with Maia. Sean has gone to the park with a couple of friends. He’s going to call me when he’s home.”

“He might just knock on my door,” she warned.

“He knows where you live?”

“Everyone knows where everyone lives,” she reminded him.

“He better not,” Rob said. “He could be embarrassed...”

Then he was kissing her again. And just as she knew she would, she thought, What the hell. She kissed back. It must have lasted a full minute. Then she said, “Wait.”

He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “Now what?”

“How long has it been? Since you’ve been... With a woman?”

“I don’t know. About six months, I think. I’m not in a relationship.”

“But you were seeing some woman in the restaurant business.”

“Not really,” he said. “She’s a friend. She’s divorced, very busy trying to climb her ladder in sales. We’ve had casual sex a few times and each time she has reminded me that she doesn’t want a serious relationship.”

“Some women say that and don’t mean it,” she said, but as she was saying it, she was caressing his back and arms.

“I think the deciding factor is the phone.”

“Huh?” she said, her fingers drifting up his neck into his hair.

“I’ve talked to you on the phone more in the past two weeks than I’ve talked to her in as many years. I’ve only called her to make plans. Trust me, it’s not a complication. I don’t have a girlfriend. Helen might be more of a complication.”