Waiting For A Girl Like You Part 14

"Sure."

"Have a seat at the table, and I'll put something together for us." She braced a hand on the counter and slid her shoes off grateful he didn't make a crack about being hungry for her. When they touched, she got dizzy with desire. But, she genuinely wanted his friends.h.i.+p, and friends.h.i.+p required conversation and fun.

AJ sat at her table, sipping his beer. She hummed, grabbing a red frying pan from an overhead rack. There was no awkwardness. It was easy. Natural. She took a cutting board from a white-washed cabinet, and started slicing carrots. Whipping around the kitchen, she started an Alfredo sauce, her enthusiasm leaving sprays of white sauce on her ap.r.o.n.

"You look like you know what you're doing." AJ stretched his legs and crossed one ankle over the other.

"Thanks. I like cooking." She crunched a carrot and chewed fast. "Even better to have someone to cook for."

Her large kitchen s.h.i.+ned with stainless steel gadgets. Cooking magazines cluttered one corner. Index cards were taped to a computer monitor at a built in desk. This was home, not the glossy showroom that was the rest of the house. She reached into a bowl of raspberries.

She turned to AJ, the fruit touching her bottom lip. "You want some berries?"

He shook his head, a wolfish smile on his face. Her heart thudded as she held the fruit on her bottom lip. A little juice dripped on her fingers and mouth. She licked the juice, and AJ homed in on her mouth. It'd be easy to pick up where they left off.

Her skin flushed. The gusset of her underwear nestled in the wet crack between her legs. She trusted AJ, but could she trust herself? He'd hiked up her skirt in a public place, yet she was the one who wanted her skirt to stay up...all the better for AJ to touch her.

Nothing about tonight was normal.

Keep moving.

Cooking let her go through rote motions, taking the heat off AJ watching her cook. Sliced chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s sizzled in the pan. Water boiled and she dumped in penne noodles. Conversation would be tough with all the noise. She padded over to her kitchen window and snipped some herbs.

AJ got up, sc.r.a.ping his chair. "What's this?"

She sniffed the leaves in hand, leaning against the counter. "Thyme. Italian parsley." She touched two empty pots. "Mint and basil was here, but they died."

He showed genuine interest in the row of pots. "You like to grow things." He took in the kitchen with its splashes of red, yellow, blue, and green and not a single glossy wood finish. "This is where you're happiest."

"Yes." She loved the chaos of color. The smells. The plants. Her late husband had argued for a showcase kitchen. He'd wanted it sleek as the rest of the house. He'd even argued the broken design flow diminished the resale value, but for once she put her foot down.

"And the table. What's the story there?" AJ nodded at b.u.mps of dried model glue on the scratched walnut surface. "Your nephew?"

"Very perceptive of you."

The table didn't match the rest of the house. She'd brought it with her from her single, starving artist days.

AJ tucked both hands in his front pockets. "I can imagine a lot of living here. A lot of love too."

His chest squeezed when he said love. A man didn't use the word when getting to know a woman. It sent the wrong message. s.h.i.+t. Nothing about tonight was normal. The house he was in, the table, the barefoot utterly kissable woman beside him. Jennifer wasn't some uptight, don't mess me up rich- He stopped himself. When it came to Jennifer, he'd not use that word.

Go slow, walk the tight rope carefully.

Food sizzled but Jennifer went quiet on him. She reached into a cupboard and retrieved two plates.

"Can I do something?" he asked. "I'm just standing here."

"You can set the table. Silverware's in there," she said, pointing at a drawer. "As far as the helping with the food, I'm glad to cook for someone who'll eat something more exotic than hot dogs."

Her pasted on smile told him she shut part of herself down for safekeeping and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. She walked to the stove and resumed stirring the sauce.

"Do you have a favorite beer? I can make sure to buy what you like."

A sense of calm came over him. Her question suggested future visits.

"I like cold beer," he said, digging out two forks.

He set both plates and the silverware on the table. Jennifer drained the pasta and poured her white sauce over the noodles, chewing her bottom lip.

"How does this work, AJ?"

Soulful brown eyes pinned him. "How does what work?"

She scooped the chicken onto the platter, steam clouding her cheeks. "This is not like muscle memory...dating." She set the platter on the table one overhead lantern lighting her s.h.i.+ny skin. "Crazy as it sounds, I've forgotten how to be with a man. All the dating nuances and the does and don'ts."

Laughter rumbled up from his chest. "I'd say you know how to be with a man."

"I'm not talking about that."

He reached out and tucked loose hair behind her ear. "First rule of dating is you make up your own rules."

She laughed softly. "I've never heard that. Is it Dating Rules According to AJ?"

"Works for me." He turned her slowly around and played with the ap.r.o.n's tie resting on her a.s.s.

"I don't want to make a mistake." She paused. "With you."

Her tender-hearted, verbal stumbles warmed his heart. It scared him how easily Jennifer could twist him around her little finger if she wanted. It was the little things. The ap.r.o.n ties bouncing on her a.s.s. Her softly worded wishes to get this right. To please him.

And call him a cave man, but he liked her cooking barefoot for him.

Jennifer angled her head to see what he was doing behind her. He needed a few seconds reprieve from her brown eyes watching him to digest what was going on. His knuckles rubbed the swell of her a.s.s. He could lose himself with Jennifer. A flush spread over the fine lines of her profile. Her shoulders rolled as his knuckles made slow figure eights over her a.s.s cheeks. Gooseb.u.mps sprinkled her arms.

"I'm easy. Don't worry about making a mistake. Just be." He pushed the curtain of hair off her neck and kissed damp tendrils stuck to her skin.

Her head lolled sideways. "How does this work?"

"How does what work?" He breathed the question into her flower-scented hair. His arm wrapped around her waist.

Jennifer gripped the counter's edge. She tipped her head back, resting it on his shoulder. Calloused hands roamed over pin up girl hips. One hand cupped her t.i.t. The flesh was high, plump, and firm. He kneaded her, working his hand slowly to the center peak. Erect nipple fit perfectly between his thumb and forefinger. He gave it the barest pinch.

She moaned, arching her breast into his hand and a.s.s into his groin.

"You like how this feels?" He nuzzled her neck.

Air hissed in Jennifer's throat. She closed her eyes.

Talkative Jennifer was speechless. He laughed low on her neck, tasting her warm skin. His teeth grazed the rim of her ear. "This is how it works...you and me figuring it out as we go."

Her body quivered. The tender quake made his b.a.l.l.s ache. She strained against him, her breath huffing as if she'd sprinted uphill.

"You smell so good." His lips swept up and down her neck.

Jennifer's hands reached behind her and grabbed his thighs. His muscles tensed under her hands. Bodies melted into each other. Her fingernails scratched denim covering his legs. With an impatient sound, Jennifer whirled around and yanked up his T-s.h.i.+rt. She gasped in frustration as if she couldn't get to his skin fast enough.

Heavy lidded, Jennifer pushed his T-s.h.i.+rt above his nipples, her dark eyes glittering under her lashes. The light was possessive. Wanting. As hungry for him as he was for her, less controlled.

French manicured nails sc.r.a.ped hair arrowing into his jeans. His skin pebbled from the pleasure.

Jennifer started to say his name. "A-"

His mouth swooped down on hers, tugging the fleshy center of her upper lip. She whimpered. Whatever she was going to say was lost as he gently nipped one lip before moving onto the other.

"Would you like it if I did this to the rest of you?"

Jennifer groaned. She swallowed hard. He tipped his forehead to hers, touching nose-to-nose, mouths skimming.

"You wanted to talk." Softly, he rubbed his face against hers. "I think you have a nice way of talking."

Her pelvis b.u.mped his. His d.i.c.k lengthened in his jeans. He could still string together words despite his heart and lungs fighting for s.p.a.ce in his chest. It'd be easy to lift her skirt again in the privacy of her kitchen. He'd rub deeper into her underwear, find out how wet she was between her legs.

"My stubble too scratchy?"

"N...no." Her mouth mimicked his, opening for air, closing for deeper kisses.

"You kiss nice," he said.

Jennifer's hands wandered over the ridges of his obliques, the ruts of his abdomen, up to his pecs. She fondled him, lifting his s.h.i.+rt to his collarbone. She opened her mouth and bit his pec. It wasn't hard, nor was it soft. A pleasure-pain. Her tongue traced a line from one nipple to the other. Jennifer nosed the bite mark on his chest.

Breathing hard, she kissed the red rim on his flesh. "You smell-"

"I smell?" Two fingers tipped her chin up.

"-like a man." A tremor shook her voice. "Your chest is...is perfect. You're hard...like a marble sculpture."

He kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her. "I thought men were supposed to sing the praises of a woman's chest, but you're close to making me blush."

Acrid smells of blackened food filled the air.

"Did you leave the stove on?" he asked.

"The stove? Oh! The stove!" She rushed to the stove and turned it off.

A thin line of smoke rose up a burner. She sc.r.a.ped off a chunk off food stuck to the burner and held up the charred evidence. "Parmesan got on the burner." Her s.e.x-hazed eyes sparkled. "I forgot to turn the stove off. Not something I usually do."

Jennifer was barefoot, her naked calves silky smooth, and both nipples jutting hard against her dress. He'd never seen a more f.u.c.kable woman in his life.

She glanced over her shoulder, cleaning the burner. "You'd better have a seat, or I'm liable to burn down my house."

Better to have the table hide his erection.

"Looks good." He took a seat and scooped a serving onto her plate and two scoops on his with Jennifer on the other side of the table.

"What do you do to have pecs like that? I mean you can tell through your clothes that you're in shape. But, really, you're an artist's dream." She winked. "If my sister saw you naked, she'd insist on doing you."

He almost choked on his food. "'Scuse me?"

"My sister Karen's a sculptor. She'd probably ask you to sit for her." Jennifer waved her fork in the air, her eyes flirty. "She loves to do the human form. Totally fascinates her. It helps that you're a virile subject."

"Krav Maga," he said, wiping a napkin across his mouth.

"What?"

"I'm trying to keep up with you. Krav Maga. It's martial arts. I do it once or twice a week. And I don't care how fascinated she might be, I'm not sitting naked for your sister."

"I talk fast." She laughed and her blonde hair fell forward, brus.h.i.+ng her cheeks. "I'll try to relax and slow down."

Chocolate brown strands mixed with golden blonde. Jennifer was probably a natural brunette but she colored her hair. She licked creamy sauce off her lips, and he had the feeling the comment about sitting for her sister was a test. By her bright smile, he pa.s.sed with flying colors.

"Do you teach the Krav Maga?" she asked.

"I take cla.s.ses. Clears my head." He chewed creamy chicken. "You're a good cook."

"Thanks."

He took more bites, careful bites, savoring the food and conversation.

"You look surprised." Jennifer pointed her fork at his plate. "About the food."

He grunted, biting into another mouthful of sauce-smothered meat. She rested her elbows on the table, her fork dangling in her hand.

"About the martial arts, I'd like to try other disciplines, but I don't have much time."

Her brows pinched. "How can you not have time?"

"I just don't," he said and bit a mouthful of pasta. He didn't want her to probe. Maybe he could skirt it, but like any self-respecting, barefoot, well-kissed woman, Jennifer probed.

"What cuts into your free time? Your job's a forty hours a week deal, isn't it?" Jennifer opened her mouth to say something else but the phone rang. "I'd better get that."

Unfolding from the table, she picked up a black phone by her computer. "h.e.l.lo. Oh, hi, Richard...yes, yes, I'm fine. Just a little car trouble." Silence. "I should've called and told you what happened." She rubbed her forehead, listening to the voice on the other end. "I know, but I didn't want to bother you."

She turned away, hugging an arm across her waist. "Sat.u.r.day? The opening at Subtext Gallery?" Jennifer s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other, listening to the voice on the other end.

It was none of his business, but the caller irked him. How quickly could she get off the phone?

Chin to chest, Jennifer pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll have to think about it." Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. "Okay. Yeah. Gotta go. Bye."