Dirty Distractions (Afternoon Delight 1)

“I’m actually the gift-shop manager, so that means I mostly get to play with stuffed ones and soothe the ruffled feathers of the annoyed patrons who wanted a blue-footed booby toy rather than a pelican. My best friend is one of the sanctuary’s zoologists.”

/> For the next half hour he questioned her thoroughly about the sanctuary, even going so far as to ask how he could donate. Which made her antennae wiggle. He worked at least two jobs, so how much discretionary income could he have? The modeling position was probably only infrequent at best.

Not that it mattered. Even a small donation helped in this difficult financial climate.

“Do you model often?” she asked once they’d dug into large wedges of cake for dessert. His carrot, hers molten chocolate lava. He’d probably taste like cream cheese frosting and the vegetable she couldn’t stand. Damn carrots.

Still, she had to appreciate the unintended deterrent to dueling tongue action. Too bad it didn’t offset the smoldering eyes, razor-blade cheekbones and suckable lips.

And suckable other parts.

“Here and there.” He dragged the tines of his fork over the plate as he chased an errant walnut. “I’ve worked for Rand a few years now, since shortly after he moved into my neighborhood. Occasionally I pick up jobs for other art studios.”

“Naked jobs?”

His lips quirked right before he pushed that sneaky walnut between them. “No. That’s only for Rand.”

“Hmm.” Something about the way he said that made her wonder if there was more to that story. Probably just wishful dirty thinking on her part. “Is that so?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

Yeah, clearly wishful dirty thinking. He looked as wide-eyed as Bambi newly out from under his mama’s legs. She shoveled a bite of cake into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “In any situation, I think the most lewd thing possible. It’s in my DNA. So I immediately wondered if you and Rand were lovers because, well, I’m me.”

“We’re not but that’s fascinating. You have atypical reactions.”

“You have no clue, buddy. I’m outside the norm in lots of ways.”

“Such as?” If glee had a facial expression, it would’ve been Michael’s as he made an impatient gesture with his fingers. “Let’s get to the main event. Stop with the previews already.”

What would it hurt? It was seeming more and more likely that nothing would happen between them. Not because of his age, but because messing around with an earnest guy like him could only lead to problems. With her tendency to bruise hearts and egos even when it wasn’t intended, she didn’t want to risk hurting someone so genuinely nice.

“I don’t want children, for one.” She held up a hand before he started to object. “In case you were about to ask if that was even an option for me anymore, I’ll have you know my reproductive organs are all still functioning normally, thank you very much. I’m not too old to have children, it’s just not what I see in my future.”

“Why?”

She pushed her cake around her plate. Talk about a heavy topic for a diner and dicking-around excursion. “I had a couple of miscarriages early on, when I was married. Way back in the dark ages. My husband wanted to keep trying. I didn’t. That was one of many reasons we divorced. After the papers were signed, I got my tubes tied. No kids for me from here on out.”

“I’m sorry.” He covered the hand she’d set beside her plate with his own. She stared at his big palm cradling hers as if he’d produced a live snake from his pocket. “If you’re in such different places emotionally, it doesn’t make sense to stay together. I don’t blame you for walking away.”

Kim dragged her gaze from their linked hands to the compassionate dark eyes trained on hers. “What, no token encouragement for me to put my heart on the line? To stop running from love and offer my viable eggs as proof that I’m a real woman?”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t look away. “You feel pretty real to me, Kim. Eggs optional.”

Proving it, he curled his fingers around hers and she let out a shuddering breath she couldn’t hold back. Her lungs ached. Just inhaling and exhaling seemed like a Herculean task all of a sudden.

“I don’t want children either,” he said in that same conversational tone, picking up his fork with his other hand without releasing her. “They’re not in the cards for me.”

“Why?” She tossed his own question back at him, expecting him to evade it. Perhaps he donned his straightforward demeanor only when it suited him.

He ate a couple of bites of cake then let go of her long enough to lift the napkin from his lap and wipe his mouth. The blunt tips of his fingers snagged her focus an instant before those same fingers were sliding over the back of her hand to loosely grasp her wrist. For how intimate the gesture felt, he might’ve slipped into her panties instead. “I’m one of nine kids.”

“Nine?” Holy shit, he was stroking the inside of her wrist. Slowly. The pads of his fingers were rough with calluses and immediately brought to mind all the other places he could touch that would appreciate his thoroughness even more. “Where…” Breathe. “Where were you in the mix?”

“The second. My older sister didn’t stick around long after she turned eighteen, so I was the one left with the kids most of the time while my parents worked. My dad died when I was twelve. Congenital heart defect that he found out about right before he passed.”

“Oh no. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Not the most articulate of responses, but his wonder fingers were still circling her skin and those seven words strained her addled brain to the max.

“Yeah. It was worse on my mom. She couldn’t work and be home with the kids at the same time. And she couldn’t afford daycare on a waitress’s salary, so a neighbor helped during the day and I took care of them as best as I could after school. Until I stopped going to class. Then I could take care of the younger ones during the day too.”