Double Exposure: From A Gift of Love (Foster Saga 0.5)

“Congratulation,” he said shorlty. “Now get to the point.”

His tone was so sharp and impatient that Corey’s head snapped around. Not once in all the times that she’d been with him had he ever spoken to her like that. “Never mind,” she said nervously rubbing her palms on her knees. “I’ll find someone else to ask,” she added, abruptly abandoning the whole scheme and starting to stand.

“Corey,” he snapped, “are you pregnant?”

Corey gave a shriek of horrified laughter and droped back to her seat, gaping at him. “From kissing?” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “What did you do, skip health and hygiene class in the sith grade?”

For the second time in moments, she saw Spencer Addison exhibit another unprecedented emotion – chagri. “I guess you aren’t pregnant,” he said wryly, shooting her a rueful smile.

Utterly delighted to have him off balance for a change, Corey continued to tease him, trying without success to contro her wobbly grin. “Don’t football players take biology at SMU? Listen, if that’s why you have to go to graduate school, save the tuition and talk to Teddy Morris in Long Valley, Texas. His dad’s a doctor, and when Teddy was only eight years old, he told us everything there is to know on the playground by the swings.” Spencer’s shoulders were shaking with laughter as Corey finished. “Of course, he used a pair of turtles for teaching tools. They may have mated by now.”

With traces of a grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth, he shifted position so that his shoulders were against the raised back of the chaise lounge and his left leg was bent at the knee, resting beside Corey’s hip. His right leg, which had been injured twice in games last year, was stretched out beside the chair, his heel resting on the flagstones. “Okay,” he said mildly, folding his arms over his chest and lifting his brows, “let’s hear it.”

“Is your right knee bothering you?”

“Your problem is bothering me.”

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“That’s the part that’s bothering me.”

The banter was so endearingly familiar, and he looked so relaxed and powerful – as if he could carry the entire world’s problems on his wide shoulders – that Corey had a crazy impulse to simply curl up beside him and forget kissing. On the other hand, if she executed her plan successfully, she might end up stretched out beside him and being kissed. An infinitely preferable alternative, she decided as she paused for a quick mental check of her appearance to make certain she looked as desirable as possible. Something slinky and low-cut would have been preferable to the white shorts and sleeveless knit top she was wearing, but at least they showed off her tan well.

“Corey,” he said in a no-nonsense tone, “the problem?”

Corey drew a long, fortifying breath. “It’s about kissing…” she began haltingly.

“I already got that part. What do you want to know?”

“How can you tell when it’s time to stop?”

“How can you-?” he repeated in disbelief; then he recovered and said flatly and piously, “When you’re enjoying it too much, it’s time to stop.”

“Is that when you stop?” Corey countered.

He had the decency to look ashamed of his answer; then he looked annoyed. “This discussion is not about me.”

“Okay,” Corey said agreeably, rather enjoying his discomfiture, “then it’s about someone else. Let’s call him… Doug Johnson!”

“Let’s drop the pretense,” Spence said a little testily. “The fact is that you’re seeing someone named Johnson and he’s pushing for more than you want to give. If you want advice, I’ll give it to you: Tell him to pound sand!”

Since she hadn’t been certain what tactics Spence would use to evade her trap, Corey was ready with several variations of the same scheme, all of which were designed to maneuver him back onto the path. She tried out the first variation. “That won’t help, I’m seeing lots of different people, actually, but things seem to go too fast after the kissing gets started.”

“What are you asking me?” he said warily.

“I’d like to know how to tell when things are getting out of hand, and I’d like some specific guidelines.”

“Well, you aren’t going to get them from me.”

“Fine,” Corey said, defeated, but bluffing to save her pride. “But if I end up in a home for unwed mothers because you wouldn’t tell me what I need to know, then it’s going to be as much your fault as mine!”

She made a move to stand, but he caught her wrist and jerked her back down onto the seat. “Oh, no you don’t! You aren’t going to end this discussion with a remark like that.”

A moment ago, Corey thought she was defeated, but now she realized that victory was actually in her grasp. He was floundering. Uncertain. Retreating from his original position. Corey prepared to advance, but very cautiously.

“What – exactly – do you need to know?” he asked, looking sublimely uncomfortable.

“I’d like you to tell me how to know when a kiss is going to get out of hand. There has to be some sort of clue.”

Defeated by his own uncertainty, Spence leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “There are several clues,” he muttered, “and I think you already know damned well what they are.”

Corey widened her eyes and innocently said, “If I knew what they are, why would I be asking you about them?”

“Corey, it is impossible for me to sit here and give you a play-by-play description of the stages of a kiss.”

Corey opened the trapdoor and got ready to shove him in. “Could you demonstrate?”

“Absolutely not! But I can give you a good piece of advice: You’re dating the wrong bunch of people if they’re all pushing you for more than you want to give.”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t make myself clear. What I’m trying to say is that I think I might be the one who is giving the guys the wrong idea.” Mentally, she stood beside the open door and made a sweeping gesture to him. “I think the problem may be how I kiss them.”

Spence walked straight into her trap. “How the hell do you kiss?” he demanded, then he looked furious at his blunder. “Never mind,” he said, leaning forward suddenly.

Corey put her hands on his shoulders and gently forced him back. “Now, don’t get hysterical,” she said in a soothing voice. “Just relax.”

Beneath her palms his shoulders were still tensed, as if he wanted to bolt, and she had a fleeting image of him on the football field, only tonight he’d caught a pass he hadn’t expected and didn’t want, and now he couldn’t find anyone else to hand it off to.

The thought made her smile into his narrowed eyes; it made her feel as if she, not he, were calling the plays for a change. It gave her confidence. It made her absurdly happy. “Spence,” she said. “Just run the ball down the field. It’s very simple. Honest.”

Her ability to fin humor in his predicament only made him more irritable. “I cannot believe you seriously want me to do this!”

From beneath her lashes, Corey gave him a look of limpid appeal. “Who else can I possibly ask? I suppose I could ask Doug to show me what I do that-?”

“Let’s get on with it,” he interrupted shortly.

His knee was still beside her hip, preventing her from moving closer to him. “Could you move your knee?”

Wordlessly, he shifted his left leg out of the way without altering the position of his upper body. Corey scooted closer, turning so that she could look at him.

“Now what?” he demanded, his arms crossed obstinately over his chest.

Corey had a rehearsed answer in mind for exactly this moment. “Now you pretend you’re Doug – and I’ll be me.”

“I don’t want to be Johnson,” he said, sounding bitter about everything.

“Be anyone you like, but be a good sport, okay?”

“Fine,” he clipped. “Now I’m being a good sport.”

Corey waited for him to move, to reach for her, to do something. “You can start wh

enever you’re ready,” she said when he didn´t budge.