The Ranger's Passionate Love

"So, we went out to a club," Justin said, starting to tell me about the last day of the trip.

"What kind of club?" I asked, laughing. "Dance club? Golf club?"

"Not a strip club, if that's what you're wondering about, sweetheart," he said, and winked at me, squeezing my hand and giving me a saucy look.

I laughed again. "You guys wouldn't go to a strip club," I said. "You're all married or dating. Don't be ridiculous."

He laughed too, that pleasant baritone sound that I'd gotten so used to, and I grinned.

"Of course not," he said. "That would be very naughty."

He looked so devilish, then, waggling his eyebrows, that the whole conversation seemed ridiculous.

"Would you like dessert?" he asked, flagging down a waitress.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was so handsome, it seemed like every women we met when we went out didn't notice I existed.

"Two dessert menus," he said, "And a glass of Cointreau for each of us."

I held up my hand. "I'm fine, just the menu, please."

"Aww, live a little," he said, the waitress waiting, a little awkwardly.

"I've had a long week, and I've had plenty of wine," I said. "If I start drinking with dessert, I'll fall asleep and drool on your shoulder the whole way home."

"So, one shot, and two menus?" she asked, and I nodded.

"You're no fun," Justin said, as she left. "I was hoping to get you all liquored up."

He winked, and we both laughed.

I excused myself to go to the ladies room. When I came back, I saw the waitress leaning over him at our table. Both of them laughed, and then she looked up and saw me.

I smiled at her, and she excused herself and hurried into the kitchen.

"There you are, my dear," he said as I sat down again. My napkin had been refolded in my absence, and the dessert menus were placed perfectly on the table, the crisp parchment catching the light of the candles and seeming to just about glow.

I sighed in appreciation.

"This is one of the best dinners I've ever had," I said, smiling at him, tracing small patterns on his hand with the tip of my finger, enjoying the contact and the company.

"It's not over yet," he said. "Let's take a look at these, shall we?"

He ordered a plate of delicate macaroons and I chose an amazing-sounding lemon crème brûlée.

The desserts were incredible. I shared bites of mine and enjoyed the contrast of the rich pudding and the crisp crunch of the caramel on top. He teased me and fed me a bite of one of his macaroons, which exploded in a taste of orange and coconut on my tongue.

As I scraped the last tiny specs of custard from the dish, he signaled for a waitress again.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, the innocent question warring with the desire in his eyes.

"Beyond ready," I said, and shivered in anticipation.

The next morning, I woke up in Justin's king-sized bed and stretched luxuriously. It had been a good night.

A really good night, I thought, as I smiled at Justin's sleeping back.

I reached out and patted his shoulder.