out what to have for dinner.”
“I know we talked about dinner
tomorrow, but after this week, I could really use some company that is both
gorgeous and not stupid. Do you think you could help me out with that?”
Bridget laughed. She felt a slight
hesitation in her heart and bit her thumb. She was a planner, not really a
spontaneous person on the regular, and especially not with men. She’d just been
burned too many times. Now she approached them like a coyote sniffing at bait
in a trap: slowly, with open eyes, and a mind for biting. She liked her
interactions with them to be controlled and safe.
But she realized, somehow, that she
already felt safer about Ghost than she did most men at this stage. The thought
both upset and relaxed her. Maybe it was just how badly she wanted to feel his
hard body pressed up against hers, and see if all his swagger was for show.
In the end her fire won out, and she
said, “Sure. I can do that. Do you want to go out, or stay in?”
“A night in sounds magical to me.”
“I kind of feel the same. Well, how
about I just add an extra serving to dinner and you join me?”
“Just tell me what time to be there.”
They decided on eight, which gave
Bridget just an hour to come up with something to feed them both. She opted for
Italian, mostly because she had been on a kick for some prosciutto last grocery
shopping trip, and filled her whole fridge with sundry cheeses, meats, olives,
and wine. She laid out stark white serving plates with the goods, and added
some different crackers and bread, then made a Caesar salad in a big, blue
bowl. She didn’t know what kind of food Ghost was into, but she hadn’t met a
person yet she couldn’t talk into enjoying a traditional Italian spread.
As eight o’clock crept closer,
Bridget got more nervous, eventually to the point that she couldn’t focus on
the book she tried to read on the couch. She changed her clothes twice and
eventually settled on a pair of jean shorts that showed off her lean legs, and
a casual white t-shirt. She liked the way the outfit softened her without
making her feel like she was a doll being stuffed into a dress. She brushed
through her straight blonde hair and gargled with mouthwash before she was
finally settled with how she looked.
“Ghost,” she said to herself in the
mirror with a chuckle. “You’re about to have dinner with a grown man named
Ghost.”
The doorbell chimed. Bridget tilted
her head, amazed. “How does he keep doing that?” She shoved away the last of
her beauty supplies under the sink and headed out to answer the door. One hand
on the knob, she took a big deep breath and swung the door open.
With the setting sunlight at his
back, Ghost stood there smiling, holding a gorgeous bouquet of bright flowers
that he bought from a store instead of pulling from a live garden. When he saw
her in the doorway, his smile turned into something a little closer to stunned
arousal.
“Goddamn,” he said, looking her up
and down. “You are seriously the salve to my wounds.”
The line hit Bridget hard,
unexpected. She blushed and twisted in the doorway before she could help
herself. “You’re a flatterer.”
“You have a lot of flattering
features,” he said. He stepped up the stoop into the doorway to stand closer to
her. She could feel his heat and inhaled sharply, her chest tight. “I can’t
help it.”
Bridget smiled up at him and moved
back from the door to let him in. Ghost came into the foyer, and waited as
Bridget closed and locked the door behind her. When she turned around, the look
on his face was an unmistakable mask of animal lust. She felt heat rise between
her legs and up the sides of her neck.
Ghost walked toward her slowly, his
eyes fixed on her lips. Bridget opened her mouth, but she didn’t have a single
word or thought in her mind as she watched him approach. He pressed his body
against hers, and with his
“I know we talked about dinner
tomorrow, but after this week, I could really use some company that is both
gorgeous and not stupid. Do you think you could help me out with that?”
Bridget laughed. She felt a slight
hesitation in her heart and bit her thumb. She was a planner, not really a
spontaneous person on the regular, and especially not with men. She’d just been
burned too many times. Now she approached them like a coyote sniffing at bait
in a trap: slowly, with open eyes, and a mind for biting. She liked her
interactions with them to be controlled and safe.
But she realized, somehow, that she
already felt safer about Ghost than she did most men at this stage. The thought
both upset and relaxed her. Maybe it was just how badly she wanted to feel his
hard body pressed up against hers, and see if all his swagger was for show.
In the end her fire won out, and she
said, “Sure. I can do that. Do you want to go out, or stay in?”
“A night in sounds magical to me.”
“I kind of feel the same. Well, how
about I just add an extra serving to dinner and you join me?”
“Just tell me what time to be there.”
They decided on eight, which gave
Bridget just an hour to come up with something to feed them both. She opted for
Italian, mostly because she had been on a kick for some prosciutto last grocery
shopping trip, and filled her whole fridge with sundry cheeses, meats, olives,
and wine. She laid out stark white serving plates with the goods, and added
some different crackers and bread, then made a Caesar salad in a big, blue
bowl. She didn’t know what kind of food Ghost was into, but she hadn’t met a
person yet she couldn’t talk into enjoying a traditional Italian spread.
As eight o’clock crept closer,
Bridget got more nervous, eventually to the point that she couldn’t focus on
the book she tried to read on the couch. She changed her clothes twice and
eventually settled on a pair of jean shorts that showed off her lean legs, and
a casual white t-shirt. She liked the way the outfit softened her without
making her feel like she was a doll being stuffed into a dress. She brushed
through her straight blonde hair and gargled with mouthwash before she was
finally settled with how she looked.
“Ghost,” she said to herself in the
mirror with a chuckle. “You’re about to have dinner with a grown man named
Ghost.”
The doorbell chimed. Bridget tilted
her head, amazed. “How does he keep doing that?” She shoved away the last of
her beauty supplies under the sink and headed out to answer the door. One hand
on the knob, she took a big deep breath and swung the door open.
With the setting sunlight at his
back, Ghost stood there smiling, holding a gorgeous bouquet of bright flowers
that he bought from a store instead of pulling from a live garden. When he saw
her in the doorway, his smile turned into something a little closer to stunned
arousal.
“Goddamn,” he said, looking her up
and down. “You are seriously the salve to my wounds.”
The line hit Bridget hard,
unexpected. She blushed and twisted in the doorway before she could help
herself. “You’re a flatterer.”
“You have a lot of flattering
features,” he said. He stepped up the stoop into the doorway to stand closer to
her. She could feel his heat and inhaled sharply, her chest tight. “I can’t
help it.”
Bridget smiled up at him and moved
back from the door to let him in. Ghost came into the foyer, and waited as
Bridget closed and locked the door behind her. When she turned around, the look
on his face was an unmistakable mask of animal lust. She felt heat rise between
her legs and up the sides of her neck.
Ghost walked toward her slowly, his
eyes fixed on her lips. Bridget opened her mouth, but she didn’t have a single
word or thought in her mind as she watched him approach. He pressed his body
against hers, and with his
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