Taking the Heat (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 3)

“It wasn’t that, exactly. I knew it would be expensive. I knew it could be dangerous. I thought I had it all planned out, though. I found roommates through an ad on Craigslist. Single women like me. I thought... I don’t know. I’d watched too many movies. I thought we’d be friends, and I’d landed this amazing internship at an iconic paper, and everything I was waiting for was right there in front of me—it was all about to happen, and then...”

She felt very alone for a moment, walking down the street with Gabe. She didn’t know how to explain it. It was as if the city had betrayed her. “My roommates weren’t friends. They kept to themselves. And the quirky neighborhood felt like a gauntlet of yelling men and piles of leaking garbage bags, and there were roaches everywhere. And at my amazing job, I was just a cog in the wheel, and even though I did well, nobody cared if I made it or got spit out. The city was nothing but noise and steam and shadow and millions and millions of strangers.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

“Do you?”

He nudged her with his shoulder. “Of course. It’s too much sometimes even for people who love it.”

He made her feel better. Of course New York wasn’t for everyone. She should have known it wouldn’t be right for her. And of course, there’d been things about it that she’d loved, but they’d been hard to think of at night in her lonely bedroom on her noisy street.

Their steps had slowed as they’d talked, but she and Gabe were still heading toward her place. This morning she’d vowed never to see him again, but now they were on some sort of date, and what did that mean? Did he think she’d invite him to her place? Did she want to?

Tension drew her shoulders tight. She didn’t know what to say. She was going to start babbling again. She could feel it. She was going to start talking about virginity and dating and then tell him he didn’t have to pretend to like her.

Maybe she’d start spouting off statistics. She’d looked them up. That was her job. Even if she felt like a freak, she wasn’t alone. About 4 percent of women were still virgins at her age.

Her lips parted. The words pushed at her throat, wanting out. The awkwardness needed to escape.

Veronica snapped her mouth shut and shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. Her fingers closed around her keys just as she and Gabe turned onto the narrow walk that led to her door.

She dropped the keys immediately, then snatched them off the ground before Gabe could reach down to help.

“Sorry,” she muttered, as if she needed to be sorry for dropping her own keys on her own walkway. Sorry, I was just thinking about sex statistics. The words pushed again at the back of her teeth. Did you know that a large percentage of women don’t experience pain when they lose their virginity? And anyway, I kind of already took care of that part, so you don’t have to worry.

No. She wasn’t going to say it. She wasn’t going to respond to awkwardness by being more awkward. Not with him. Not after last night. She’d used up all her quirky points already. She had to be norm

al, at least for a little while. She’d try being herself again on the third date. Or the fourth. If they got to that point.

Let him see the real you. Right. Get drunk, spill your deepest secrets, then let him tuck your drunk ass into bed while you weep over his handsomeness. Solid advice.

She shoved the key into her lock and unlocked it with a loud clack.

“Thank you,” she said, turning toward him so she could say goodbye like a normal person. “I had a great time.”

“I’m not going to ask to come in, Veronica. I only tuck girls in on first dates. On second dates I have a strict no-tucking rule.”

She couldn’t help but smile. He looked so serious. “Last night wasn’t a date.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you’re right. Tonight is our first date. I hope you’re ready for the tucking of your life, then.”

She leaned against her door, her laughter helping her forget what she’d even been so tense about in the first place. “You’re awful, Gabe.”

“Thank you,” he answered. He hadn’t cracked a smile, and now his gaze fell to her lips. “You’re cute, Veronica.”

“Huh,” she breathed, caught between humor and the unbelievable thought that he was about to kiss her.

“Really cute.” He moved slowly closer. “And I like you in flip-flops. Your toes are blue.”

She laughed a little, a huff of breath, and then he kissed her. His lips touched hers for only one soft moment at first, just a careful, tentative touch. Then another kiss, warmer this time, and waiting. She sighed, tipping her face up as his fingers touched her jaw.

Her heart tripped over itself then. The kiss was a world of sensation. The brush of his beard on her chin, the smell of his skin, her pulse pounding in her ears.

He lifted his mouth and looked down at her, watching her eyes as if he was searching for an answer. But he didn’t need to search. She was already breathing too quickly, already stunned and aroused. Both of his hands framed her face this time, and when his mouth touched hers again, she opened for him.

He still tasted sweet from the chocolate, but his mouth was hot against her. So hot. She rubbed her tongue against his, wanting more of that sweet warmth.

His body shifted closer to hers. Veronica let her hands rise. She let them touch his chest. Lightly at first, but as he kissed her more deeply, she moaned against his mouth and spread her fingers over his chest.