Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(28)

“Well. We meet once a week for an activity.” She tossed her dinner roll back in the basket. “And it just so happens this is my week to choose what us birds get up to.”

“Oh.” She traded a look with Jasper, who’d paused midchew. “Did you come up with anything yet?”

“As it happens, something did fall into my lap.” Rosemary leaned in. “Wouldn’t it be a hit if you taught a cooking class? A big-time chef from—where are you from, exactly?”

“San Diego,” Rita managed.

“San Diego!” Rosemary settled in with that fact for a while. “It would only be a few of us. We could do it at the new kitchen at Jasper’s eatery. Maybe in the morning before the bar opens and all the scuttlebutt filter in.”

Jasper was obviously thrilled over that description of his customers. “There wouldn’t only be a few, Rosemary. There’s damn near thirty of you.”

“Twenty-five,” she muttered. “What do you say, Rita? Does this Saturday, the sixth, work for you?”

“I’m sorry, I won’t be here that long.” For some reason, Rita felt the need to avoid looking at Jasper. “My family and I are leaving as soon as our Suburban is repaired.”

Why did Rosemary look skeptical? She did. One white eyebrow had lifted, along with the corner of her mouth. And, for a split second, the flightiness she’d exhibited since they’d pulled up fell away. “Sure you are.”





Chapter Fourteen



Jasper pulled his bike into the parking lot of the motel, half wishing the place was another ten miles away just so Rita could cling to him a while longer. She’d been quiet since they’d left Rosemary’s house. Then again, Jasper supposed he’d been quiet, too. When they’d set out this morning, time seemed like a relative thing, whereas now it was finite.

Well. He’d just have to set his mind to carving out more, wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately, the more time he spent with Rita, the more he wanted to fuck her into an incoherent state. His missing ability to feel a significant, sweaty, down-low attraction seemed to be making up for lost time, directing itself now toward Rita like a high-wattage, phallic-shaped spotlight. God, he wanted her riding him. Wanted to do some no-holds-barred riding himself, her knees wedged up underneath his armpits. Male intuition honed from too many hours spent being bad told Jasper they would move well together. Better than well. Explosively. Because his attraction to Rita wasn’t limited to physical need. Around her, his faults and decent qualities felt caked to his skin, everything hovering on the surface, wanting to—touch her.

The way she’d made him feel back in the kitchen, when she’d hit him with a sucker punch courtesy of two golden-brown eyes? He’d never experienced that kind of protectiveness before. Sure, he took his responsibility as an only grandson seriously, doing for those who’d done for him. But that buildup of steam in his chest while swaying back and forth with Rita—he wasn’t letting the pressure seep out. He wanted to punch a few dials and see how much more steam he could handle. Those dials, however, were controlled by Rita.

He’d waged a heavy debate with himself back on the highway, confident that if he took the turnoff to his house, he could end up in bed with Rita. The new bed he’d purchased after burning the old one during a whiskey binge in his backyard. No one had been in the new bed save himself, but he could see Rita there. What he couldn’t stand to see? Rita walking out the front door afterward, chalking him up to a satisfying fling on the road to something better.

So he’d gone right past the turnoff and kept driving toward the motel. Now, with their afternoon coming to an end, Jasper was feeling a mite anxious. Okay, more than a mite. In a different life, he might have banged Rita in his office last night and sent her a friendly wave this morning on her way out of town. He wouldn’t have taken the time to roll around in her sense of humor or even seen the vulnerable girl in his grandmother’s kitchen. And, hell, wasn’t that just goddamn terrifying?

Without any actual communication between his brain and his body, Jasper revved the engine of his bike and passed the motel entrance, circling around to the side, where no cars were parked. None of the individual room doors were located on this side of the motel, either, giving Jasper the privacy he needed.

“My room is back that way,” Rita husked above his right shoulder.

“All right.” Jasper pulled to a stop, turned off the ignition, and helped Rita climb down. He was in a do-or-die situation. Had spending the morning with him inspired a desire to spend more time in his company? Or less? He reckoned he’d know in a minute. “So I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Her dark head came up, fingers working beneath her chin to unstrap the helmet. Not for the first time today, he wanted to wipe the makeup off her eyes, maybe count her eyelashes if she was in a mood to indulge him. “What?”

“For our date.” He sent her a low wink. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

Rita narrowed her gaze. “I can’t always tell when you’re joking, and that is very annoying.” She hung the helmet from the handlebar of his bike. “But I know I never agreed to a date.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. A step forward. “See, now, I was kind of anticipating you agreeing out of sympathy for a desperate man.”