“You’re staring,” Jane finally whispered to Chris, after enduring almost an hour of one of the worst movies she’d ever seen.
It didn’t help that the man sitting next to her distracted her so much she could hardly breathe, let alone think. His close proximity, the warmth from his body seeping into hers was almost too much to bear. He smelled so good, like spicy pine and clean, strong man.
“Sorry.” He offered an apologetic smile but didn’t look away, which made her nervous. She had a feeling he wasn’t sorry at all. That he enjoyed setting her on edge.
Every time he reached into that bucket of popcorn, she couldn’t help but notice his arms, his hands. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his dark blue thermal, revealing strong forearms. His skin was tanned, smooth, with a faint covering of black hair and the occasional vein that stood out in stark relief against his flesh.
The urge to feel those arms around her was so strong, but she tried to deny it. She tried to deny the buzz of electricity that seemed to surround them whenever they were together, the way his gaze lingered on her mouth when she spoke. As if he might want to kiss her.
Jane wanted to kiss him back.
Just once, just to know what it felt like to have his firm yet sensual lips pressed to hers. She’d kissed her fair share of guys—she hadn’t grown up a sheltered nun—but no man’s mouth had captured her imagination such as Chris’s did.
She had a feeling he would be an expert kisser, that he would know just what to do, just how to coax a delicious response from her. Would he taste sweet like the chocolate he’d been snacking on?
Dread filled her and she breathed deeply, desperate to focus on the movie, on anything but the man beside her. The date had been a mistake. She wasn’t ready for anything like this yet.
But then when would she get her chance? She was still young. Most twenty-eight-year-old women were having successful careers, single and dating or just married. They certainly weren’t the mothers of three, without a husband and with a multitude of scars that made it impossible to even imagine what it would be like to get naked in front of a man again.
Jane’s cheeks burned at the thought of getting naked in front of another man that wasn’t her husband. Getting naked in front of Chris.
The mere idea of it was frightening.
Chris leaned in, his mouth close to her ear yet again, and she swore she felt the brush of his lips against her flesh. “The movie’s terrible, don’t you think?”
Her cheeks warmed at his closeness and she hoped he wouldn’t notice in the dark theater. “It is pretty terrible,” she admitted. He pulled away from her, flashing a quick smile.
That smile sent a zing all the way through her body right down to her toes. Goodness, would she ever get used to seeing him, looking at his gorgeous face?
“A few people have already ditched this movie—not that I can blame them. Should we?”
Jane glanced around the theater, noticed that they were practically the only ones left. An older man sat at least ten rows below them and two teenagers were in the front row on the floor, their necks craned to stare up at the giant screen. That was it.
“What else would we do? It’s probably too late to see another movie. I need to get back to Mindy’s and pick up the kids.” Disappointment filled her that their date was ending early. She’d hoped for at least a couple of hours with Chris, away from the children.
“We could grab a coffee before I take you home,” Chris suggested, and she wondered if he wasn’t willing to end their time together just yet, either.
“I’ll be up all night if I drink caffeine.” Dammit, why did she phrase it like that? The look he shot her said that maybe he wouldn’t mind if she’d be up all night. Not the message she’d meant to send him. She was the one who’d wanted to be just friends. She knew that was the right course to take.
The attraction between them, though, was undeniable. With the heated glances they exchanged, how she shivered when he touched her, the subtle flirtation…
“They do have decaf, you know,” he teased, dipping his head close to hers for what felt like the millionth time. Again, that stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, giving him a little-boy look that she found sweetly endearing.
And smoking hot.
“Yeah, but if I’m going to a coffee shop, I don’t want to skimp and get decaf. I want full-tilt,” she teased back. It was easy with him, talking and joking. She liked it. Made her feel normal and carefree, like she used to be.
And that’s what she needed to focus on. The talking stuff, the friendly stuff. Not the intense, sexy stuff that made her skin prickle and her belly heat.
“Are you saying decaf is for wimps?” He cocked a dark brow, a lopsided smile tilting his mouth, and all of a sudden, she couldn’t resist. Jane reached out and, with tentative fingers, pushed the hair off his forehead. And just as she’d imagined, it was silky soft, sifting across her fingertips to fall back where it belonged.
Their eyes met, locked, and she was held captive, her hand frozen for the briefest second. He grabbed her by the wrist, pulled her hand to his mouth, and pressed a fleeting kiss to her knuckles.
Oh, God. Shock froze her in place and she knew she should pull away, brush it off as nothing. But she couldn’t ignore the heat that coursed through her at the mere touch of his lips, and she swallowed hard, blinked slowly. Anything to try and bring back the normal, everyday emotions she lived with.
But they were gone, wiped clean by the touch of Chris’s fingers, the brush of his mouth.
“Jane.” He whispered her name, his voice achingly gentle, and her lips parted to answer him but nothing came out. The intensity of his gaze, the way he watched her left her paralyzed, speechless.