The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(17)

“Spoken like a true sister.”

Eric pulled into her driveway. He turned to look at her and damn, she was so pretty. This was just about a peak experience for him. “Good first date,” he said, oh so eloquently.

“Excellent first date.”

“Don’t move,” he told her. “Let me be a gentleman.”

He led her toward the door and when they got there she stopped and turned, looking up at him expectantly. “Well?”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what she was waiting for. “Don’t you want to get to know me better before we have that good-night kiss?” he asked, giving her a chance to make a break for it.

“Look, I haven’t been out on a real date in over a year and before that it was a series of really bad dates with guys I’d never date a second time and this was an excellent date. Didn’t I just say that? And damn it, I want to cap it off with a—”

It rapidly crossed his mind that she must have been a supervisor, at least. He slid his arm around her waist and lifted her up to his lips. She was small but not that light; he could feel the muscles that hadn’t been so obvious. This was a strong woman. He found her mouth with his and planted one on her and then, almost instantly, he fell in love with that mouth. With one hand supporting her at the small of her back and the other plunged into her soft hair at the back of her head, he urged her lips open. He was cautious with his invasive tongue but she wasn’t. She welcomed him, pulled him in, joined him in tongue-play. Her arms circled his neck and held on tight and he moved over her mouth hungrily, drinking in her taste. She was just perfect. It was almost scary how perfect she was. He lapped at her mouth, devoured her, started breathing hard in spite of his intention to be cool. He was not cool. He was over the edge.

He slowly broke away, but didn’t put her on her feet. He loved having her up against him. “Tell the truth. The president works for you....”

That made her laugh. “Want to come in?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

He shook his head. “If I come in, I won’t leave till morning.”

“That’s negotiable....”

“Let’s get to know each other a little better.”

“Wow. I didn’t think men said no.”

“I like you,” he said. “A lot. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to be sure.”

“And you? You want to be sure?” she asked.

Oh, man, he was too sure. But there was a lot about him she didn’t know. And the front stoop was not the place to go through the details. “At least one more date, honey,” he said. “I think we’re both ready, but let’s take it a little slower....”

“You think I’m a slut?”

He laughed at her. “I think you’re a goddess!”

“Correct answer,” she said, wiggling in his arms until he set her on her feet. “Good date, good first kiss, let’s see if you can live up to the rest of it.”

“Oh, the pressure,” he said, chuckling. He leaned down and kissed her nose. “Thank you, Laine. I had a good time.”

“Do you think you’ll ask me out again or are you just going to ask how my car is running for the next week?”

He loved her sass. Loved it. She was so bold; not a coy bone in her body. “Sunday night?”

“Something going on tomorrow night?”

He shook his head. “I’m pretty busy tomorrow during the day, that’s all.”

“Can I cook us dinner?” she asked.

And he knew. He knew. He was going to have to lay it all on her—everything he held in his past. It might just freak her out. And if it didn’t freak her out, he’d be staying till Sunday morning. This was a beautiful, terrifying impasse.

“Sure,” he said. “What time?”

“Six?”

“I’ll be here.”

* * *

After her date, Laine washed her face, brushed her teeth, put on her favorite pajamas, lit the fire in her bedroom and snuggled into bed. Ordinarily she would close her eyes, take a few deep, slow breaths and worry that sleep might elude her or that she’d wake with a start because some deep, subconscious fear chased her in the dark of night.

Before the shooting she had been so highly disciplined she could grab sleep whenever it was available. After the shooting, she had suffered bouts of sleeplessness. Sometimes she thought she heard a gunshot and jolted awake, panting. When the FBI shrink had asked how she’d been sleeping she said, “Groggily, because of pain meds, I suppose. But I sleep. I’ve always been good at sleeping.” She could tell the shrink wasn’t fooled. Agents probably told her that all the time.

But tonight she welcomed a little sleeplessness.

She watched the fire and thought about that man, that handsome, delightful man. And thought about sex. Everything Eric had said and done on their first date indicated a man who was confident and thoughtful enough to be good in bed. She couldn’t remember when she’d had sex last.

Oh, yes, she could—she’d just rather not. It was an agent she’d worked a case with in New York; when the case was wrapped, they’d gone out for drinks, back to his hotel and splat. Very disappointing sex. What was his name? Oh, right, Paul Remmings—DEA. Very nice guy, very sharp and quick, with quick being the operative word. Hmm.