Susan Mallery - Hot On Her Heels

“Anytime, big guy,” she whispered.

He gave a short laugh. “My goal is to make it last longer than it would have when I was eighteen.”

“All flash and no substance. I should have guessed.”

He pushed into her and hissed out a breath. “It’s your fault.”

“Sure. Blame it on the woman.”

He pushed in again. He was thick and long and filled all of her. If he had five or ten minutes in him, she would have enjoyed the ride, but judging from the way he shook, that wasn’t going to happen. Which was fine with her. She’d had her turn and watching him fight for control was about the best part of her day.

“Next time,” he promised. “Is that okay?”

She smiled slowly, feeling intense female power, possibly for the first time in her life. “Absolutely.”

“I think I’ll struggle a few seconds longer. For pride’s sake.”

“I don’t think so.” She tightened her muscles around him, then pulsed again.

He tensed, pushed into her and two thrusts later, was done.

Still inside of her, he stared into her eyes. “I can do better.”

She smiled. “It was great. Better than great. It’s been a long time since I was with a teenaged boy.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He kissed her. “Let’s get some dinner.”

Dinner as in eating together? As in going out?

“I, ah, don’t think that’s a good idea. I meant what I said. I don’t want anything personal between us.”

He chuckled. “Dana, we’re naked. My penis is still inside of you. We passed personal a long time ago.”

“I know, but we’re going to be working together and we should…”

She didn’t know what, exactly, but there should be rules and clarification and didn’t he want to leave? Guys always wanted to leave after sex.

He kissed her again. “You just had an orgasm. Be quiet and bask like every other woman.”

“That’s not me.”

“I know. Which is why I offered dinner.”

“What would you have done otherwise?”

“Offered to cuddle.”

Oh, please. “On what planet?”

“Okay, maybe I’m not much of a cuddler, but I can fake it the same as every other guy.” He nipped her bottom lip. “Which is it to be? Dinner or cuddling?”

“Dinner.”

He withdrew and sat up. “That’s my girl.”

“Let’s get this straight. I’m not your girl and after dinner, you’re not getting any again. And don’t for a moment think you’re spending the night.”

“Of course not. I’m not the type.”

“Neither am I.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN you want breakfast?” Dana asked, sounding suspicious. She stood with her hands on her hips, her short brown hair still wet because she would never bother to blow it dry.

She’d pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved purple T-shirt with a designer logo. Must have been a gift, Garth thought, doing his best not to smile at her obvious annoyance. Dana wasn’t the designer type.

“You kept me up most of the night with your demands,” he said calmly. “I’m hungry.”

“Stop for fast food on your way to work. Millions do it every day. It’s practically a tradition.”

“I don’t like fast food.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You’re just screwing with me because you think it’s fun.”

Which was true, but not something he would admit. Pissing her off was a great way to spend an hour. Besides, he liked her company.

Last night they’d gone to dinner. Afterward, she’d done her best to show him the door and he’d done his best to get her back into bed. He’d won. Not that she’d resisted too strongly. Afterward there hadn’t been any talk of him leaving. They’d fallen asleep in a tangle of arms and legs, which surprised him. He usually preferred to sleep alone.

“You’re supposed to be running your own money-hungry corporation, not to mention devising a plan to take down Jed Titan. You don’t have time for breakfast.”

“I’ll make the time. I worked up an appetite last night, Dana. The least you can do is feed me.”

She scrunched up her face as if trying desperately to come up with a better argument. But the underlying message was clear. She wanted him gone because she was scared.

He’d figured that out the first time they’d made love and she resisted an easy road to pleasing her. She’d succumbed, but her reticence made him wonder who had hurt her so badly that she felt the constant need to protect herself. Did the fear go back to being a small child who’d been beaten by the one person who was supposed to take care of her? Or was the wound more recent?

He knew he shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t want to find whoever was responsible and beat the shit out of him. But he did. Something he would deal with another time. For now, he wanted to go to breakfast with Dana because he wasn’t willing to leave her just yet.

“After breakfast, you’ll leave?” she asked with a sigh. “You give me your word?”

“Unless you try to seduce me again.”

“I never seduced you in the first place.”

“You do it with every move you make.”

Garth was good, Dana thought, doing her best not to react to the words. He was playing with her. Teasing because it was fun. He knew the exact line to get to her. The trick was to make sure she didn’t start believing him.

“Then I get to pick the place,” she said, knowing that the quickest road to getting him gone was to eat and then watch him drive away.

“Sure,” he said easily.

She gave him her first smile of the morning. “You ever been to the Calico Café?”

“No.”

The smile turned into a grin. “You’re going to love it.”

They walked because the restaurant was only about two blocks away, one of the things Dana liked about living in Titanville. It had a small-town feel right on the edge of Dallas.

“Your great, great, I don’t know how many greats, grandfather founded this town,” she said as they left her small apartment. “During the eighteen hundreds. He was something of a gambling man who liked his women. Apparently he didn’t care who he slept with. He left a lot of women disgraced. You would have liked him.”

He glanced at her. “I’m very nice to the women in my life.”

“Are you? Mind if I take a small survey?”

“Not at all. They’ll speak well of me.”

Damn him, they probably would, she thought glumly. He was just that kind of guy. Good in bed. Too good. She was still experiencing sensual aftershocks. Little tingles that came out of nowhere. They zoomed to life, pinged her privates, then disappeared, leaving her slightly aroused and a little flustered.

“Not all of them,” Dana said. “There have to be at least a couple who hate your guts.”

He chuckled. “Want to meet them and form a club?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Now you’re just talking sweet to flatter me.”

He was teasing. She knew that. But knowing didn’t make it easier to respond. She’d never been the type who knew how to flirt with a guy. She hadn’t been born with the skill. Or maybe it was a confidence issue. Either way, it was a whole lot easier to be crabby. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a reason.

They walked toward the café. Seeing the familiar big windows and calico curtains lifted her spirits. She couldn’t wait until Garth got a look at the inside.

He held open the door. She went in and he followed. She turned and waited.

He glanced around the small space. She followed his gaze, anticipating his reaction. There were dozens of tables with glass tops. Underneath, long tablecloths hung down nearly to the floor. Wallpaper added color on color. There were shelves of china figures, bowls, cloth-covered books in stacks and every single item was done in calico.

It was an explosion of the pattern. The tiny floral print bred in the night and grew. The menus were calico, as were the seat cushions and the plates. It was calico heaven…or hell-depending on one’s perspective.

Men rarely survived more than a few minutes without visibly withering. Most begged for mercy and ran. The problem was, the Calico Café had the best food in ten counties. Their motto, clearly printed on their menus, stated they served breakfast all day and if you wanted something else, go away. It was an attitude Dana could respect.

Garth barely reacted at all. “It’s nice,” he said. “Is the food good?”

She frowned. “That’s it? You don’t want to talk about all the calico?”

He shrugged. “Somebody must like it. I’ve eaten in worse.”

Where?

Renee, one of the regular servers, bustled out of the kitchen. Her ample hips brushed against chairs as she moved. She barely glanced at them.

“Get yourself a table,” she called, carrying a heavy tray to the west side of the café. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

Garth put his hand on the small of Dana’s back. “Wherever you’d like,” he told her.

Her usual choice was up front, by the window. She liked to keep an eye on the sleepy town. But maybe today that wasn’t such a good idea. She could see but she could also be seen.

“How about there?” she asked, pointing to a table in the back.

“Fine.”

They were barely seated, her with her back to the wall, facing the room, when Renee hurried over with two menus.

“There’s no special,” the fiftysomething waitress snapped, turning their coffee cups over and pouring. “The cook wasn’t in the mood. If you want…”

Renee finished pouring the coffee and actually looked at her customers. Dana braced herself, hoped desperately that nothing was going to happen, then wanted to bolt for freedom when the woman she’d known most of her life said, “Dana. A man? I’m so proud.”

Why? Why did it have to be like this? Why did Renee have to look so happy in an uncomfortably maternal way, as if Dana were a baby turtle who had finally found her way to the sea?