distribution.
Kim shook his head as if to clear it. “Warn a man before you
do that.”
And so the danger passed. She tried not to be disappointed.
This wasn’t going anywhere beyond a favor to Stacey. And a last jab at Steven.
And maybe one more kiss for herself. For the road.
“I thought you said we were chaperones,” he said. “Even if I
manage to behave, Bob is likely to change his mind about your friend.”
Even if? Damn, he was good at this. She grinned at him.
“Thank you for that,” she said. He made a gesture suggesting he was helpless to
do otherwise. She grabbed the beaded shawl from the bedroom doorknob and took
his arm.
As she closed the front door behind them, he asked, “So are
we sleeping together?”
Chapter Four
The keys slipped out of Isabelle’s hand and jangled to the
boards of the porch. Did he really just say that?
Kim laughed, squatting to get the keys and handing them to
her. “Oops. I didn’t mean to startle you. It just seemed relevant.”
She worked again at fitting the key into the door to secure
the deadbolt. Even with the porch light on, it wasn’t easy, distracted as she
was.
“To our roles as secretly dating chaperones, I mean,” he
said.
Oh. He sure didn’t talk like any plumber Isabelle had met.
Of course, he didn’t look like any other, either.
“I’m going to get slapped, aren’t I?”
“No,” she said. “I’m just…I’m not…”
The problem, of course, was wanting to sleep with him and
yet wanting none of the complications that would follow. Like jealousy. Hers.
And infidelity. His.
Crap.
“Neither of them believe we’re sleeping together,” she said.
“That’s easy, then.”
Maybe for him.
She tossed the shawl around her bare shoulders and walked
with him down the porch steps and up the walk, where he opened the door of a
newish-looking orange Jeep for her.
“I was expecting your truck,” she said, glimpsing a
footlocker and at least three pairs of sports shoes in the back.
He laughed. “You don’t want to go anywhere in that heap,” he
said. “Besides, you’re far less likely to wind up sitting on a stray tool in
this one.” He ran his hand over the seat as if checking for tools and grinned.
“Of course, there are never any guarantees.”
He had two vehicles. That was twice as many as Isabelle, who
was still driving her work van everywhere and dreaming of a time when she
wouldn’t have to load groceries in amongst shelving and shoe drawers.
Two vehicles. Nice clothes. Great taste in flowers. And yet
he’d said he needed cash.
She wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t any of her business. If
he was another comfort-seeking con artist, he would be sorely disappointed
tonight. They weren’t dating.
“Orange,” she said of the Jeep. “I approve.” She got in.
Kim caught himself watching Isabelle’s dress slide up her
creamy thigh as she got into the passenger seat. He closed the door for her and
took a few deep breaths as he circled to the driver’s side. He could do this.
He could be near her curvy body and wicked smile and still manage to respect
her old-fashioned standards. Never mind the inviting elegance of her bare neck.
And soft arms. And full, healthy thighs under her short, red…
Focus. Breathe.
Why was he doing this, again?
Favor. She’d asked him to.
Damsel in distress.
Check.
He could do this.
He got in and put on the shoulder belt before starting the
Jeep. Time to start eating up the miles between Isabelle’s south Dallas
bungalow and the restaurant, way up in one of the more northern suburbs.
“I appreciate your doing this, but you don’t have to try so
hard,” Isabelle said.
“What’s that?”
“This isn’t a date until we meet up with Stacey and Bob.”
“Sure it’s a date—a double date.” He grinned, hoping to see
her agree to that much at least, and got huffed at for his trouble. Uh oh. “So
the flowers were wasted, then?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“Ah, well. Can’t
Kim shook his head as if to clear it. “Warn a man before you
do that.”
And so the danger passed. She tried not to be disappointed.
This wasn’t going anywhere beyond a favor to Stacey. And a last jab at Steven.
And maybe one more kiss for herself. For the road.
“I thought you said we were chaperones,” he said. “Even if I
manage to behave, Bob is likely to change his mind about your friend.”
Even if? Damn, he was good at this. She grinned at him.
“Thank you for that,” she said. He made a gesture suggesting he was helpless to
do otherwise. She grabbed the beaded shawl from the bedroom doorknob and took
his arm.
As she closed the front door behind them, he asked, “So are
we sleeping together?”
Chapter Four
The keys slipped out of Isabelle’s hand and jangled to the
boards of the porch. Did he really just say that?
Kim laughed, squatting to get the keys and handing them to
her. “Oops. I didn’t mean to startle you. It just seemed relevant.”
She worked again at fitting the key into the door to secure
the deadbolt. Even with the porch light on, it wasn’t easy, distracted as she
was.
“To our roles as secretly dating chaperones, I mean,” he
said.
Oh. He sure didn’t talk like any plumber Isabelle had met.
Of course, he didn’t look like any other, either.
“I’m going to get slapped, aren’t I?”
“No,” she said. “I’m just…I’m not…”
The problem, of course, was wanting to sleep with him and
yet wanting none of the complications that would follow. Like jealousy. Hers.
And infidelity. His.
Crap.
“Neither of them believe we’re sleeping together,” she said.
“That’s easy, then.”
Maybe for him.
She tossed the shawl around her bare shoulders and walked
with him down the porch steps and up the walk, where he opened the door of a
newish-looking orange Jeep for her.
“I was expecting your truck,” she said, glimpsing a
footlocker and at least three pairs of sports shoes in the back.
He laughed. “You don’t want to go anywhere in that heap,” he
said. “Besides, you’re far less likely to wind up sitting on a stray tool in
this one.” He ran his hand over the seat as if checking for tools and grinned.
“Of course, there are never any guarantees.”
He had two vehicles. That was twice as many as Isabelle, who
was still driving her work van everywhere and dreaming of a time when she
wouldn’t have to load groceries in amongst shelving and shoe drawers.
Two vehicles. Nice clothes. Great taste in flowers. And yet
he’d said he needed cash.
She wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t any of her business. If
he was another comfort-seeking con artist, he would be sorely disappointed
tonight. They weren’t dating.
“Orange,” she said of the Jeep. “I approve.” She got in.
Kim caught himself watching Isabelle’s dress slide up her
creamy thigh as she got into the passenger seat. He closed the door for her and
took a few deep breaths as he circled to the driver’s side. He could do this.
He could be near her curvy body and wicked smile and still manage to respect
her old-fashioned standards. Never mind the inviting elegance of her bare neck.
And soft arms. And full, healthy thighs under her short, red…
Focus. Breathe.
Why was he doing this, again?
Favor. She’d asked him to.
Damsel in distress.
Check.
He could do this.
He got in and put on the shoulder belt before starting the
Jeep. Time to start eating up the miles between Isabelle’s south Dallas
bungalow and the restaurant, way up in one of the more northern suburbs.
“I appreciate your doing this, but you don’t have to try so
hard,” Isabelle said.
“What’s that?”
“This isn’t a date until we meet up with Stacey and Bob.”
“Sure it’s a date—a double date.” He grinned, hoping to see
her agree to that much at least, and got huffed at for his trouble. Uh oh. “So
the flowers were wasted, then?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“Ah, well. Can’t
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