as pure as a field of daisies and I rarely ever think with my dick."
I have to give him the laugh he earned with that daisy remark. "Sure, and you're not thinking with it right now, either, are you?"
Jack's eyes flit to my cleavage and a broad, guilty smile spreads across his face. "I said rarely , not never ."
"It's okay. After that dance last weekend, I'll let you look on occasion." I smile at him and let my eyes drink him in.
"You are a little pistol," Jack says, his grin going lopsided and sexy again.
"You have no idea," I say. I tip up the Jack Daniels and take a sip. "So what's it like, owning a sawmill?"
Jack launches into conversation about his mill and I can see he has a real passion for it. He talks about being the largest mill in the Mid-Eastern part of the U.S. I watch his mouth as he speaks; those perfectly carved lips and how they shape his eloquent words. His eyes are the greatest enhancement to his face, coming alive and flickering with each expression.
"So what about you?" he asks.
"What about me?" I ask.
"What's your story?" Jack asks, sipping from his glass. I watch as the ice cubes slide down the upturned glass and touch his lips.
"Well, I'm an accounting major and I just love, love numbers.” I put my hands together and under my chin. “I've gone to Math Camp every year since I was fourteen. Oh gee whiz, math is just the funnest!" I say with over the top enthusiasm. Jack grins and gives me a little laugh.
"That's what I get for judging you before I met you," Jack admits. He holds out his glass and tips it to me.
"I judged you, too," I confess. "I thought you were going to be an arrogant, boring prick and I just knew this wasn't going to be anything I'd do again."
Jack puts his hands over his heart as though he's been wounded. "Oh, the things she says."
Brent arrives with the brie and after being assured that everything looks great, beelines for the kitchen again.
A small perfect cylinder of creamy white cheese rests underneath a criminal amount of caramel and pecans. Jack picks up a fork and cuts through the gooey cheese.
"Here," he says, holding the fork out to me. I look past the fork and at him. "Go ahead," he urges.
I lean in, never taking my eyes off his, and close my lips around the tines of the fork. I slide the brie into my mouth. A stray drop of caramel slides down my lip and I catch it with the tip of my tongue. It tastes marvelous.
Jack lets a little breath out between his pursed lips. "The way you did that..." he trails off.
"If you can't take the heat, get out of the restaurant," I say.
Jack gives me another inspecting look before taking a bite of the brie with the same fork. I watch his mouth as he lets the sweet caramel hit his tongue.
"That's pretty tasty," he says. I pick up my own fork, not really sure who would end up turned on the most if I continued to let him feed me. We finish the brie as Brent makes his way to our table carrying two large silver domed plates. He sits them in front of us and removes the domes.
The lobster tails have already been cracked and little dishes of butter and lemon sit between them. I pick up my fork and carve away a bite of the tender white meat, dip it in butter, then squeeze a little lemon juice over it. It is divine.
I would never have ordered something this expensive on any date, but I'm glad Jack did the ordering.
We manage to do a little eating between jokes and conversation. Each time Jack makes me laugh, I have to admit to myself that this is the best date I've ever had. I don't want it to end.
Finally, the server clears away our plates and sits down two servings of apple dumplings. "I don't think I can eat another bite," I say honestly. I didn't eat a lot of my food, but everything was so filling.
"Me, either," Jack says. He waves his hand and Brent comes back to our table. "Could we get the check, please?" He nods and pulls a black leather book from his pocket. Jack slides his credit card inside and Brent
I have to give him the laugh he earned with that daisy remark. "Sure, and you're not thinking with it right now, either, are you?"
Jack's eyes flit to my cleavage and a broad, guilty smile spreads across his face. "I said rarely , not never ."
"It's okay. After that dance last weekend, I'll let you look on occasion." I smile at him and let my eyes drink him in.
"You are a little pistol," Jack says, his grin going lopsided and sexy again.
"You have no idea," I say. I tip up the Jack Daniels and take a sip. "So what's it like, owning a sawmill?"
Jack launches into conversation about his mill and I can see he has a real passion for it. He talks about being the largest mill in the Mid-Eastern part of the U.S. I watch his mouth as he speaks; those perfectly carved lips and how they shape his eloquent words. His eyes are the greatest enhancement to his face, coming alive and flickering with each expression.
"So what about you?" he asks.
"What about me?" I ask.
"What's your story?" Jack asks, sipping from his glass. I watch as the ice cubes slide down the upturned glass and touch his lips.
"Well, I'm an accounting major and I just love, love numbers.” I put my hands together and under my chin. “I've gone to Math Camp every year since I was fourteen. Oh gee whiz, math is just the funnest!" I say with over the top enthusiasm. Jack grins and gives me a little laugh.
"That's what I get for judging you before I met you," Jack admits. He holds out his glass and tips it to me.
"I judged you, too," I confess. "I thought you were going to be an arrogant, boring prick and I just knew this wasn't going to be anything I'd do again."
Jack puts his hands over his heart as though he's been wounded. "Oh, the things she says."
Brent arrives with the brie and after being assured that everything looks great, beelines for the kitchen again.
A small perfect cylinder of creamy white cheese rests underneath a criminal amount of caramel and pecans. Jack picks up a fork and cuts through the gooey cheese.
"Here," he says, holding the fork out to me. I look past the fork and at him. "Go ahead," he urges.
I lean in, never taking my eyes off his, and close my lips around the tines of the fork. I slide the brie into my mouth. A stray drop of caramel slides down my lip and I catch it with the tip of my tongue. It tastes marvelous.
Jack lets a little breath out between his pursed lips. "The way you did that..." he trails off.
"If you can't take the heat, get out of the restaurant," I say.
Jack gives me another inspecting look before taking a bite of the brie with the same fork. I watch his mouth as he lets the sweet caramel hit his tongue.
"That's pretty tasty," he says. I pick up my own fork, not really sure who would end up turned on the most if I continued to let him feed me. We finish the brie as Brent makes his way to our table carrying two large silver domed plates. He sits them in front of us and removes the domes.
The lobster tails have already been cracked and little dishes of butter and lemon sit between them. I pick up my fork and carve away a bite of the tender white meat, dip it in butter, then squeeze a little lemon juice over it. It is divine.
I would never have ordered something this expensive on any date, but I'm glad Jack did the ordering.
We manage to do a little eating between jokes and conversation. Each time Jack makes me laugh, I have to admit to myself that this is the best date I've ever had. I don't want it to end.
Finally, the server clears away our plates and sits down two servings of apple dumplings. "I don't think I can eat another bite," I say honestly. I didn't eat a lot of my food, but everything was so filling.
"Me, either," Jack says. He waves his hand and Brent comes back to our table. "Could we get the check, please?" He nods and pulls a black leather book from his pocket. Jack slides his credit card inside and Brent
Similar Books
