woman, especially one who has eyes the color of a stormy sky. Start by mixing the shrimp with the chili sauce. Cover and refrigerate for a few hours. Can't think of a way to fill those hours with the woman by your side? Then you must be married.
Cut the bacon strips into halves and cook them until they're limp, not crisp. The bacon is limp. Don't be getting any wrong ideas here. Wrap each shrimp in a bacon piece, then secure with a toothpick. Broil until the bacon is crisp and the woman you want to impress is dying for a bite.
Take turns feeding each other... but watch out for the toothpicks. If you get too distracted, you could end your evening in the emergency room.
Trust me, that's no way to get a second date.
Chapter Nine
Travis had never noticed how small the interior of his convertible was—until Meredith Shordon sat in the passenger's seat. It felt as if the walls of the car were closing in, bringing them nearer together, edging her fragrance, her skin, her very presence closer to him.
Tempting him.
The word "virgin" danced around his head with images of sexual positions heretofore untried by most of mankind. Damn his hormones. Damn the testosterone that coursed through his body, hot as lava, inflamed by Meredith's innocence and gimme-gimme-gimme mouth.
He shouldn't. He was sure he'd go to hell, or at least purgatory, for defiling someone so pretty and nice and well... Midwestern. She had none of those hard city edges about her, just a calm purity that seemed a lot like a daisy in a field of nettles.
"Do you remember how to get back to my cousin's house off of Mass. Ave.?" Meredith said, breaking the silence. Since they'd gotten into the car, he hadn't exchanged much more than small talk with her, because every time she opened her mouth, he started watching her lips move and watching her lips move led to thoughts of other parts of her body moving...
That path to hell seemed awfully short right now.
"Yeah. I even know a shortcut." He banged a quick left and pushed on the gas. The rev of the six cylinders beneath the hood was a weak echo of the horsepower itching to be let out beneath his own hood.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
What had been his plan again? It went beyond sex, that he knew. But damned if his brain would picture anything other than a firm mattress and clean sheets.
Oh yeah. Work. The job he hated but needed because the phone company—and Kenny's ex—liked to be paid on time. He needed Meredith's input on No-Moo Milk and then he'd be able to save Kenny's butt and his own at Belly-Licious Beverages, maybe even with the added bonus of displacing Larry Herman from his blood-borne pedestal.
"You're awfully quiet," she said. "Is it something I did?"
"No." He paused. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to being in a city and sometimes I—"
"There, like that," he said, waving at her. "You're apologizing, for God's sake. No one around here apologizes."
"They don't?"
"Hell no. They cut you off in traffic, then flip you the bird like it was your fault for being on the road in the first place. They sell you shoddy merchandise and give you crap about returning it because then maybe you'll back down and they won't have to eat the loss. They connive to get your promotion then screw you on your review so you'll be stuck in the mail room until you're sixty-five."
"That's what it's like here?"
He let out a gust. Now he'd done it—taken out years of annoyances and irritations on her for no reason other than the fact that she was here and he was caught up in some stupid denial plan. "Not really. I'm just... frustrated right now."
"Oh." She paused a second, then noticed the death grip he had on the steering wheel and the rigid set of his chest. " Oh ."
"Yeah. It's that kind of 'Oh.'"
"We could—"
"No, we could not. Not now. And I'd appreciate it if you would never mention the word sex again because my hold on my hormones is ... Well, let's just say you don't make it easy for a guy." The numerous
Cut the bacon strips into halves and cook them until they're limp, not crisp. The bacon is limp. Don't be getting any wrong ideas here. Wrap each shrimp in a bacon piece, then secure with a toothpick. Broil until the bacon is crisp and the woman you want to impress is dying for a bite.
Take turns feeding each other... but watch out for the toothpicks. If you get too distracted, you could end your evening in the emergency room.
Trust me, that's no way to get a second date.
Chapter Nine
Travis had never noticed how small the interior of his convertible was—until Meredith Shordon sat in the passenger's seat. It felt as if the walls of the car were closing in, bringing them nearer together, edging her fragrance, her skin, her very presence closer to him.
Tempting him.
The word "virgin" danced around his head with images of sexual positions heretofore untried by most of mankind. Damn his hormones. Damn the testosterone that coursed through his body, hot as lava, inflamed by Meredith's innocence and gimme-gimme-gimme mouth.
He shouldn't. He was sure he'd go to hell, or at least purgatory, for defiling someone so pretty and nice and well... Midwestern. She had none of those hard city edges about her, just a calm purity that seemed a lot like a daisy in a field of nettles.
"Do you remember how to get back to my cousin's house off of Mass. Ave.?" Meredith said, breaking the silence. Since they'd gotten into the car, he hadn't exchanged much more than small talk with her, because every time she opened her mouth, he started watching her lips move and watching her lips move led to thoughts of other parts of her body moving...
That path to hell seemed awfully short right now.
"Yeah. I even know a shortcut." He banged a quick left and pushed on the gas. The rev of the six cylinders beneath the hood was a weak echo of the horsepower itching to be let out beneath his own hood.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
What had been his plan again? It went beyond sex, that he knew. But damned if his brain would picture anything other than a firm mattress and clean sheets.
Oh yeah. Work. The job he hated but needed because the phone company—and Kenny's ex—liked to be paid on time. He needed Meredith's input on No-Moo Milk and then he'd be able to save Kenny's butt and his own at Belly-Licious Beverages, maybe even with the added bonus of displacing Larry Herman from his blood-borne pedestal.
"You're awfully quiet," she said. "Is it something I did?"
"No." He paused. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to being in a city and sometimes I—"
"There, like that," he said, waving at her. "You're apologizing, for God's sake. No one around here apologizes."
"They don't?"
"Hell no. They cut you off in traffic, then flip you the bird like it was your fault for being on the road in the first place. They sell you shoddy merchandise and give you crap about returning it because then maybe you'll back down and they won't have to eat the loss. They connive to get your promotion then screw you on your review so you'll be stuck in the mail room until you're sixty-five."
"That's what it's like here?"
He let out a gust. Now he'd done it—taken out years of annoyances and irritations on her for no reason other than the fact that she was here and he was caught up in some stupid denial plan. "Not really. I'm just... frustrated right now."
"Oh." She paused a second, then noticed the death grip he had on the steering wheel and the rigid set of his chest. " Oh ."
"Yeah. It's that kind of 'Oh.'"
"We could—"
"No, we could not. Not now. And I'd appreciate it if you would never mention the word sex again because my hold on my hormones is ... Well, let's just say you don't make it easy for a guy." The numerous
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