Take Me by Onne Andrews Page A

reactions in check. “Unfortunately.”
    Something wicked flashed behind his eyes.
“Would you like to join me for dinner?”
    “I don’t know.” I drawled out the words. Not
because I was unsure about his invitation. I was absolutely sure I
wanted to do more than share a meal with this gentleman. “I don’t
want your family to sue me if you’re poisoned by airport food.”
    “I’m willing to take the chance if you are.”
His smile flared into something more than polite. “Ian.” He held
out his hand.
    “Lacy.” I grasped his palm. An image of those
large hands on my naked ass flashed through my brain.
    Light blue eyes stared into mine, so pale
they would appear white in the right light. They contrasted well
with his tan. He didn’t spend every minute of his life behind a
desk. His touch lingered on my skin a moment longer than
appropriate before he slid his glasses into his breast pocket.
    “So I can’t entice you with questionable
dining choices?” He leaned a little closer, deliberately invading
my personal space.
    I didn’t step back. Instead, I stared out the
window for a second. Between the gloom and the rain, I couldn’t see
the directional lights on the tarmac. Everything was uncertain.
Bleary.
    Just like my life right now. Maybe I needed
to race through that darkness to find the light on the other
side.
    I turned back to Ian and smiled. “I’d love to
have dinner with you.”
    * * *
    The slight pressure of Ian’s hand on the
small of my back guided me through the crowded hallways. I relished
the contact for more than the feelings he aroused in me.
    Voices rose as more brilliant red “CANCELLED”
statuses popped up on the boards. Airline employees kept pleasant
expressions embedded in their faces while their fingers danced on
keyboards, trying to reschedule irate passengers. The little
restaurant Ian steered me toward seemed an oasis of calm amid a
seething mob of frustration.
    Instead of the typical airport bar and grill,
this nook looked like a four-star restaurant. Snowy linens lined
the tables. Silverware sparkled under the subdued lighting. Real
water glasses stood guard at each place setting.
    Despite the tense hubbub in the airport
corridors, few people were in this restaurant. The hostess
immediately seated us with menus. When she left, I found myself at
a loss for words.
    It had been so damn long since I’d flirted or
made small talk with an attractive stranger. Hell, I wasn’t even
this nervous about tomorrow’s interview. My impulse to take him to
bed seemed ridiculous now.
    The server poured our water. Ian asked for
another minute, then laid down his menu. “Thank you for saying yes.
I’m a little rusty at inviting a beautiful woman to dinner.”
    I realized I was staring at him and set down
my menu. “That’s a good line. I haven’t heard that one before.”
Great. My sarcasm was turned up to full. I wanted to kick myself
for letting my insecurities with men get the better of me. I
reached for my glass.
    “How long ago was your divorce?”
    I choked on the liquid in my mouth. Somehow,
I kept from spewing water across the table. “How-how—” I couldn’t
find any more words to refute his spot-on evaluation.
    A wry smile quirked the corners of his mouth.
“I recognize the self-defense mechanism. Used it myself more times
than I care to count.”
    “How long has it been for you?”
    “Thirteen years.”
    I blinked. How could someone as good-looking
as Ian run free for that long? “Does it get easier?”
    He shrugged. “She left me with two kids to
raise. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.” He leaned
closer. “But I swore once my son was in college, I would start
dating again.”
    “You haven’t dated since your divorce?” I
laughed. “I find that hard to believe. Hell, I find it hard to
believe anyone would leave someone as—” Heat blasted my cheeks at
what I’d almost said.
    He chuckled. “You know the cliché about the
wife who busts her