Ellie wasn’t sure she could speak to reply. Tyler kept one hand on her foot, nestling it intimately against him, while his other hand journeyed up her calf. Even if she could talk, she had no intention of coming clean. Roger’s tastes, and her desire to satisfy them, weren’t for public consumption.
“What if I told you this is the raciest dinner I’ve ever had in my life?” she asked.
“I’d say it’s not over yet.” As proof, his nimble fingers rounded the curve of her knee and continued up her thigh.
She grasped the table and moaned softly as those big, blunt fingers stroked dangerously close to the thin strip of silk providing a flimsy barrier between her and a complete physical meltdown.
“Definitely not over,” he said, and stroked again.
“Don’t,” she groaned, and dropped her hand beneath the table to grip his wrist. But at the same time she scooted closer to the edge of her chair. She was sending mixed messages and couldn’t seem to help it.
“Want me to stop?” Even as he posed the question, his fingers danced a little farther up her thigh. Concentration became impossible. Her pulse skittered out of control, pounding in her throat, her chest, between her legs.
“I think…yes…I think you’d bette
r.”
He leaned closer until she drowned in his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, and slowly trailed his hand back down the soft, vulnerable flesh of her thigh. She shivered.
He smiled. “What you’re feeling right now? That’s exactly how I feel when I look at you. You’re as hot as they come, so do me a favor and stop comparing yourself to Lou Ann. Deal?”
God, she felt hot right now, with his eyes locked on hers and her body still quivering from his touch. She also felt stripped bare and defenseless, because he seemed to see straight through to some long-buried insecurities.
Her father hadn’t been the type to dispense compliments. To Frank she’d been a duty, a chore, and a painful reminder of the wife he’d lost too soon. The less attention she demanded from him, the better. Teachers gave her positive feedback on her academic performance, and because she’d been starving for praise, she’d focused her efforts there. Which might explain why she could attack any academic pursuit with confidence, but the rest—looks, personality, feminine allure—remained big, fat question marks. She never realized how much she cared about the answers until Tyler volunteered his. Thankfully the waiter’s approach saved her the need to formulate an immediate reply.
The server delivered their meals and retreated. She stared at her plate, momentarily distracted by the mountain of food in front of her.
“Deal?” Tyler prompted, holding a shrimp to her lips.
“Deal,” she murmured. Lowering her eyes, she closed her mouth around the shrimp, expecting him to release it. Instead he slowly pulled until the curled delicacy sprang free with a soft pop. His playful grin coaxed an answering smile from her.
“Does any woman manage to resist you?”
“Some do. But tonight, I’m inspired.”
“Hope you’re also hungry, because this is far too much food.”
“Don’t worry, Doc. I know what I’m doing.”
She nibbled a rib and then licked the spicy sauce from her lips. “I’m counting on that.”
…
On the ride back to Ellie’s house, Tyler racked his brain to remember the last time dinner with a woman had been so fascinating, sexy, and plain old fun. She engaged him on levels he didn’t expect—like her genuine appreciation for the work he’d done on the restaurant. He enjoyed building, enjoyed constructing something innovative and lasting, but rehabbing and renovating old buildings held special appeal. They were hard jobs to bid, because surprises lurked behind every wall and under every floorboard, yet he loved the challenge and the satisfaction of seeing a slice of history standing tall and proud at the end of the project.
Women’s eyes usually glazed over when he mentioned his work, but Ellie had listened with real interest and found parallels between their professions. According to her, he examined, diagnosed, and healed the old structures so they could thrive again. The words made him smile. He’d never thought about what he did in quite those terms, but her assessment got down to the heart of it. Her quick mind and, yes, those elusive dimples captivated him to the point that he’d had to consciously stop himself from unloading the sad story of his ambitions for the Browning project.
Of course, the weight of her breasts crushed against his back and her legs clenched snugly around his hips engaged him, too, but on a level he completely expected. He still couldn’t fathom why she thought she needed to be wilder, more experienced…whatever. But he looked forward to helping her expand her horizons. Maybe he’d been wrong about taking things slow. She seemed pretty certain about what she wanted from him. He still figured she had a hidden agenda, but fine, they weren’t soul mates, just bedmates for the next little while. So what if yet another person assumed the bedroom brought out his best talents?
This time when he stopped the bike in her driveway, she leaned into him for balance and slid off with ease. Fast learner. He appreciated how the hem of her little skirt danced high on her thighs as she walked up the front steps. When she pulled the key from her small shoulder bag and tried to fit it in the lock, her hands shook just enough to make the target difficult.
“Shoot,” she said under her breath.
He eased up behind her until his chest brushed her shoulder blades. Scents of gardenia and vanilla wafted from her hair, her skin. She smelled pretty and feminine and…edible.
“Problem?”
“No.” With her head bent forward, a cascade of wavy dark hair shielded her face from his view. She shoved the key into the lock, twisted the knob, and swore again when the door didn’t budge.