Courting Bathsheba

David reached across the table and laid a light hand across hers, effectively halting her rummaging. “Hey, there's no fire. It's not even nine yet, and you said the trip was short. Finish your coffee, and I'll flag the waiter down for the bill. Fifteen more minutes won't make that much of a difference, will it?"

  Those eyes regarded her with a calm amusement. Ann rested her hands on the purse strap and gave him a rueful smile. “No, I suppose not.” She pointed a finger at him. “But this is it. No more coffee. No glass of wine. Just the bill, and I'm out of here. Deal?"

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Deal. But I'll be honest. I'm tempted to work on the charm and get you to stay a little longer. I haven't enjoyed dinner like this in a long time."

  "You wouldn't have to work that hard,” she said under her breath, and shook her head when he raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

  Ann liked the fact he didn't pressure her to let him pick up her share of the tab, only asking if she enjoyed the restaurant and his recommendation of the lasagna. Considering it was now dark outside, she welcomed his offer to escort her to her car.

  Despite her earlier rush to leave, they strolled to her vehicle. The street was quiet, several of the parking spots now empty. Her car sat alone in front of a red brick building with a restored Victorian façade. She pulled her keys from her purse and turned to David who hovered at her side.

  The night was clear, and ornate street lamps cast soft pools of light on the pavestones and curbs. It silvered her escort's hair, highlighting the fine lines at his eyes and across his forehead. For just a moment she imagined she caught a glimpse of what he might look like in another fifteen years. She liked what she saw.

  He regarded her in silence, pulling his hand out of his front jeans pocket when she held out hers to say good-bye. His fingers were warm as he wrapped them around hers in a gentle grip, sending a pleasant tingle riding up her arm and across her shoulder blades.

  "Thank you, David, for one of the best birthdays I've celebrated in a long time. I'm glad I stopped off at O'Malley's to hear your beautiful music, and dinner was wonderful."

  Ann's heart sped up when he smiled and bent over her hand in a courtly gesture. The feathery brush of his mustache and beard across her skin intensified the earlier tingle. Her fingers twitched in his hold. His lips grazed gently across her knuckles before he straightened and released her hand. His eyes glittered in the splinters of shadow and lamplight shifting over them.

  "The pleasure was entirely mine, Ann. Even though I know it'll earn me a frown, and lose me a few brownie points, I'll tell you again. I think you're beautiful. Funny and sharp as hell. Does your ex realize what a good thing he had?"

  Ann wondered if her smile carried a hint of regret. She doubted Peter had ever thought of her in such glowing terms as this lovely man, even during the first years of their marriage. But such thoughts were best left unspoken. She gave David what she hoped was a light, witty reply.

  "Oh, I think it fair to say that I can preen some feathers for a while. Escorted around by a sweet, young thing at least ten years my junior and blessed with more than his fair share of looks and charisma."

  He laughed, and she suppressed the urge to reach out and curve her palm against his jaw, feel the soft bristles of his beard against her skin. Her knuckles still tingled where he had kissed her. The laughter faded, and he glanced to the side at the building where her car was parked in front.

  "Do you believe that sometimes coincidence is fate?"

  That took her aback, and she paused before answering. “Not really. Coincidence is usually just that, coincidence. Although I like the romantic idea of fate. Why?"

  He gestured to the building's front door. “You're parked in front of my home. I rent the third floor."

  Ann's gaze followed his to the granite steps that led to the ornate front door with its stained glass and welcoming glow of an entry light. “You live here?"

  He nodded, and his eyes gleamed in the darkness, taking on an intensity that sent a shiver up her spine. Her instincts warned her more of an emotional danger than a physical one, but the sudden urge to bolt was just as strong.

  "If I asked you up for coffee and a little flamenco, would you say no?"

  The question was almost identical to when he'd asked her to dinner.

  "I'd say no.” Oh but how she wanted to say yes. “I don't really know you, David. You seem very nice, someone any woman would be glad to spend time with. But you can't be too careful these days. I'm not being paranoid. In fact, this has been pretty risky business, going to dinner with a virtual stranger."

  His smile was disappointed but understanding. “Hey, no need to explain.” He shrugged. “I just thought I'd ask. Hoped I could extend the evening a little longer. The worst you could do was shoot me down in flames."

  She knew her smile was as disappointed as his. “No need. I think a polite no will suffice.” The alarm on her car yelped once, and she opened the door, slinging her purse and shopping bag into the passenger's seat. “Thanks again. It was fun, and I'm glad I got to meet you. Someone out there is really going to luck out when they nab you on a permanent basis."

  David shrugged. “Thanks. Maybe I'll get lucky and meet another Ann."

  She laughed. “Bite your tongue. You're seeing me on a good day.” She slid into the driver's seat, and he held the door open so she could get settled and start the car.

  "I'll wait until you pull away."

  "That isn't necessary. I'll be fine. Very gallant of you, though."

  He smiled wryly. “Good manners. Be careful on your way home. And if you're ever in this neighborhood again, stop by O'Malley's. If I'm not there, leave a hello. I'd like to see you again, even if it's just for a few minutes and a glass of Lagrima. Okay?"

  Her cheeks warmed at his attention. She'd more than like to seem him again. What woman in her right mind wouldn't? Of course it was all the more reason to find some other weekend shopping district to browse on those very rare occasions she did such a thing. Temptation lay too close here. She waved him away. “Go in, David. I'll be okay."

  He gave in, closing her door gently, and walked up the steps to his building's door. She returned his wave, sighing with a mixture of pleasure and regret as he slipped inside and out of view.

  A gorgeous man by anyone's standard, and for reasons she had yet to make sense of, he had been attracted to her. The dinner had been fun, his attentions immensely flattering, especially during a time when her self-confidence wavered. For a short time, David Abrams had made her feel desirable, sexually stimulating. She might have been a wife for many years, but she wasn't blind. The look in his eyes when it traveled over her face and body had been warm and admiring.

  The car engine idled gently as she sat in the seat, hands draped loosely over the steering wheel. She looked back at the Victorian and saw lights in two of the third floor windows. She wondered if David had already made it up there and was settling down to listen to some music or even preparing to go out again. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel.

  It was so tempting to give in, turn the car off and ring his floor, saying she'd changed her mind and would really like that coffee he offered. No one was at home. She wouldn't be missed. All three kids were gone for the weekend, and a dark empty house wasn't all that appealing at the moment. Ann had never been a risk-taker, and what she contemplated was risky.

  A long, slow breath later, and she turned the key in the ignition. The engine died. She hopped out of the car before losing her courage and marched up the steps to the door. She reached to press the button on the intercom for the third floor. Before she could touch it, the door opened, and David stood in the entrance, staring at her with a hopeful smile.

  "I was crossing my fingers you'd change your mind. Besides, I wanted to make sure you got on your way okay before I went upstairs."

  She frowned at him. “I'll come up as long as we understand I can leave at any time for any reason."

  His smile faded. “I'm not a jail
er, Ann. I value your trust. If you want, I'll even leave the door open, or I can make the coffee and we can drink it out here on the steps. I'll bring the cups and my guitar. You call the shots. I'm fine with whatever you're comfortable with. Just stay a little longer."

  She nodded, feeling a lightheaded euphoria take over for a moment. “I can't believe I'm doing this,” she mentally chanted. But she was. And it felt good.

  "We can go inside. It's been way too many years for me to give up the comfort of a couch for a bunch of cold stone steps. Do you have decaf and Andre Segovia?"

  His grin returned full-force, and she couldn't help but grin back. “Yep. I can even make yours a cappuccino if you want. And what self-respecting Spanish guitarist doesn't own a complete collection of the Master's work?"

  Ann followed him up the two short flights of stairs, feeling butterflies of anticipation flutter in her stomach. He noted her tension as they stood on the landing, waiting while he unlocked his front door. “You don't have to come in if you've changed your mind. I'll take you back downstairs if you want. No hard feelings."

  Her smile was tentative, even as she refused his offer. “Don't be silly. I said I wanted to come up. I still do. So don't renege on your invitation now."

  Oh, she did like his smile. “Wouldn't dream of it. Just remember, any time you're ready to leave, say so."

  The third floor apartment was spacious, an open floor plan with a kitchen that adjoined to a living area and dining room. A back wall of windows revealed a nice view of the city lights. Three guitars sat in a far corner, along with a fair amount of recording equipment and electronics, CDs and a large TV. A pile of Barbies cluttered the window seat near the dining table. His daughter's toys.

  David gestured to a dove-gray couch littered with throws and pillows. “Have a seat. I'll start the coffee. Or, if you want, take a look at the CDs. Everything is alphabetized, and you'll find plenty of Segovia to choose from."

  She scanned the CD rack and selected two for him to play. The fragrant scent of coffee filled the air. David returned to the living room, taking the CDs and popping them into the player. In moments, the seductive strains of Spanish guitar floated through the room.

  Instead of the couch, Ann chose the easy chair, feeling it a safer bet than the couch. David didn't remark on her choice, but his gaze held hints of amusement. They listened to the music in silence for a moment before she asked him what got him started with his guitar playing. From there, the conversation progressed into a multitude of topics, and she was aware, on an almost subconscious level, how easy it was to talk with him, listen to the low, rolling tones of his voice and laugh at the dry wit that often peppered his statements.

  When the coffee finished brewing, she followed him to the kitchen, instructing him on how she liked it prepared. When they returned to the living room, Ann sat next to him on the couch, no longer uneasy at the close proximity.

  While he talked, she took the opportunity to secretly admire him. He was a tall man, somewhere above six feet, and towered over her. She liked his shoulders. They were wide and tapered down to a lean waist. He had a slim, muscular build she found very appealing. And those beautiful hands were positively mesmerizing to watch in motion.

  Handsome, intellectual, charmingly forthright. And forbidden. Ann knew she was vulnerable. Despite her long separation from Peter and a divorce they both welcomed, she felt fragile. A new life. A different one in many ways. She needed to adjust and didn't want to get caught up in something that had her coming straight off a rebound.

  It's only coffee, Ann, not a marriage proposal. Get a grip. And before that it was drinks and dinner and good conversation. Ann grew suspicious of her inner voice.

  After the second round of coffee, she rose and placed her cup in the sink. It had to be past midnight. Time to go home.

  While they hadn't indulged in alcohol, she should have requested the caffeinated coffee. At least she wouldn't be quite so relaxed by the music and David's seductive company. As it was, the hours had slipped away, and Ann admitted to herself she was sorry to see the evening come to an end.

  She almost jumped out of her skin when, upon turning away from the sink, she ran into David's chest, face first. He caught her shoulders as she stumbled backward. His grip was firm but gentle.

  "Whoa! Hey, sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you."

  He stared down at her in concern but didn't remove his hands. When Ann only blinked at him, his gaze altered, grew warmer, and the tension between them swelled in the thickening silence.

  "What would you say if I kissed you?"

  That whiskey-sweet voice caressed her, sending shivers racing throughout her body. If she still possessed one logical, functioning brain cell, she'd shove him out of the way, grab her purse and run out the door. But the feel of his body heat, the massaging grip of his fingers on her arms and the knowledge that she was the one inspiring that thread of need in his voice wiped out any reason.

  Her last bit of caution died a quick death when he lowered his head, encouraged by her continued silence. “Kiss me and find out,” she whispered against his mouth.

  The words were barely spoken before she felt the soft touch of his lips against hers. It was the faintest caress, a tickling feel of mustache and caress of warm breath against her mouth. Its very lightness coaxed a response out of her, and she tilted her head back to allow him greater access.

  David deepened the kiss. His hands rode higher up her arms, one sliding into her hair to cup the back of her head while the other stroked the side of her neck with callused fingers. He breathed into her partially open mouth, nipping playfully at her lips before turning more aggressive and slipping his tongue inside.

  Ann groaned at the sensation, her hands rising to rest gently against his sides, where she could feel the tightening ripple of muscle beneath his shirt. He didn't just kiss with his mouth, but with his entire body, curving her into him as one arm wrapped around her back and pulled her closer. The intimate feel of his tongue filling her mouth, thrusting slowly in imitation of the most erotic of dances had her clenching her thigh muscles. Her hands kneaded his ribs, and her thumbs dug into his flat abdomen.

  The times when Peter had kissed her in such a way seemed long ago, morphing over the years into the perfunctory peck on the lips, half distracted and swiftly finished. Ann had almost forgotten what it was like, that first physical surrender. It was lovemaking at its most powerful and beguiling, a pulse of anticipation, expectation and hard breathing. David made heated love to her in the bright light of his kitchen with the thrust of his tongue, the massaging stroke of his long-fingered hands, and the sensuous push of his hips against hers.

  She drowned in the consuming touch, tasting coffee and the lingering hint of single malt whiskey on his lips. Her mouth opened wider, welcoming him even as her own tongue wrapped around his in a frantic battle. He moaned low in his throat, the hand cupping the back of her head flexing in response to her aggression, and his arm dropped lower, wrapping around her hips to bring her hard up against his, where his hard cock pressed against her thighs.

  He was the first to pull away. His lips were shiny and swollen. A rosy flush along his cheeks highlighted the fine bones of his face, and his green eyes were dark.

  "Stay,” he whispered, the word flowing low and hot across her mouth.

  A river of heat rushed through her blood, swirling between her legs and gathering into her stomach. It rose to her breasts, and her nipples hardened beneath the cotton shield of her bra. Damn! Damn! Damn! Ann was almost stuporous with lust by that single kiss and he knew it.

  "Stay,” he repeated and the rhythmic thrust of his hips against hers grew more insistent.

  "I can't,” she said and moaned in protest when he planted a series of kisses along her jawline and back toward her ear. She shivered when he bit gently on her earlobe.

  "Why not?"

  She wrapped her fingers into his hair, admiring its silky texture as it slid against her palm. She tugged
his head away from her. “That should be obvious, David. Call me old fashioned, but we just met. I'm not a prude, but I've never done a one-night stand."

  The languorous expression altered, sharpening as he regarded her with an uncanny, piercing stare. “I can't be your conscience, Ann, but I can be your honesty. Do you want to stay?"

  Oh, for chrissake! Of course she wanted to stay. She also wanted to live on a diet of cheesecake and drink goblets of expensive wine whenever she felt like it, but it didn't mean she would. And this was far more precarious and enticing than any decadent food or wine that ever passed beneath her nose. Her protests were dredged up from an ingrained sense of what should be the expected reaction to such an invitation, not from any heartfelt need to refuse an overwhelming temptation.

  David watched her even as his fingers made forays into her hair and stroked her side.

  Ann sighed. “Why can't you be a little older?"

  His eyes darkened as his pupils enlarged with a rising desire. “Why can't you just say yes?” He kissed her again, and this time there was no cautionary touch or gentle nip, only the stroke of his tongue as he filled her mouth, claiming some part of her in triumph. She had surrendered, and they both knew it.

  He broke the kiss again. “Stay,” he said for the third time.

  And this time her response was just as short. “Yes."

  When they came up for air, David laced his fingers through hers and led Ann to his bedroom. As they walked down the narrow hall, she caught a brief glimpse of a bathroom and a bedroom decorated for a young girl. David's room was at the end of the hall. Dimly lit by two wall sconces, it had a single window that faced another row of buildings.

  The bedroom was orderly, and dominated by a king-size bed, neatly made in colors of gray and black. A mahogany dresser and overflowing bookcases stood against the walls. A familiar sight caught her eye, and she smiled. Two stacks of tests lay on the dresser's surface with a red pen resting on top. How many times had she done just this thing, brought home student work to grade or made lesson plans for upcoming classes?