Terms of Surrender Read online

  Can’t stay longer; there’ve been some interesting developments today. Real quick, tho, let me just say, the interviews went great. I think I might actually get the gig.

  And after the interview, something else happened. Something…surprising. Remember that sea of testosterone I said I was diving into? Well, I think I have come face-to-face with the great white. Let’s hope he doesn’t eat me up.;-)

  Bye!

  MARI HAD NO TROUBLE FINDING the small, downtown pub, which Danny said had an outside patio on which they could enjoy the warmth of the afternoon. And true to his word, he showed up exactly forty-five minutes later, his golden-brown hair still damp from his shower and his face clean-shaven. Marissa saw him arrive, and had to stand in the restaurant vestibule, watching him out the front window for a few moments. Because, oh, God, was he nice to look at.

  She’d known he was good-looking, had recognized that immediately. But he cleaned up utterly gorgeous. Trafficstoppingly, heart-poundingly, panty-dampeningly—and she was wearing panties now—gorgeous.

  Then there was the body. Wow.

  That deserved a repeat: Wow.

  Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, without the loose-fitting work clothes covering him up from neck to ankle, his entire rock-hard form was on perfect masculine display. And mercy, could the man do things for some Levi’s and oh, did his shoulders ever stretch out endlessly under that gray cotton.

  Aside from the broad shoulders, he was also lean-waisted, slim-hipped, long-legged. Built like he’d been molded out of clay by an artist trying to depict the perfect male form.

  Why in the name of God is he going out with you?

  She wasn’t being overly modest or highly critical of her own appeal. In fact, Marissa knew she was somewhat attractive.

  Not beautiful, by any means. Not with her funky ears and her too-thin hair—which looked particularly lank now that she’d taken it out of that bun and left it hanging loose. Then there was the hint of a belly she could never totally flatten, no matter how many death-by-sit-up sessions she endured at the gym.

  She’d cop to nice-looking, maybe a little sexy—she did have good legs and perky boobs that didn’t even need a Wonderbra—but she wasn’t drop-dead stunning. She might turn a few heads but no way would she ever cause gawking guys to step into traffic or obsessed secret admirers to send sky-banners into the air proclaiming her hotness.

  So why on earth would this hunky guy want to be with her? Unless, of course, he’d been telling the truth—that he just wanted to get to know the girl who’d ditched her underwear.

  That spoke of someone with a sense of humor. Someone who was interested in more than just physical appearance, and actually cared about personality. Someone she could like. A lot.

  But oh, did she ever hope there was some lust there, too.

  “Hi, see you found it,” he said as he entered the Irish restaurant he’d sent her to, a cute place that was more trendy than publike. He smelled clean and fresh and spicy, his subtle aftershave making her think of all good things male. “And I see you found something else to wear?”

  She glanced down at her new clothes. In popular Annapolis, it hadn’t taken her more than a half hour to find a shop and grab a pair of casual pants and a lightweight sweater, and not break her bank doing it. She’d changed into the outfit in the restaurant’s ladies’ room. She’d put her underwear back on, too. The pants fit fine…no panty lines.

  “Yes, I did.”

  His gaze zoned in on her hair, the ash-blond tresses hanging down over her shoulders like a veil. His voice a hint lower, thicker, he said, “Don’t ever wear that hideous bun again, okay?”

  She swallowed, feeling her legs tremble the tiniest bit under the full onslaught of his close-up, admiring attention. “It was supposed to make me look older, more mature around students.”

  “Trust me on this, they’re going to be busy enough staring at your…panty lines.”

  Oh, joy.

  “They’re not going to be distracted by any old-lady hairstyle.” He lifted a hand, running his fingers through a long strand, as if savoring the texture. “Besides, it’s beautiful.”

  Okay, it was soft. Thin, but soft. And, all right, the color was pretty. At least, this man’s rapt attention made her think so. She managed a shaky smile and swallowed hard, willing her heartbeat to slow down. It was just that the simple brush of those fingertips on her hair, the faint scrape of his thumb on her cheek had been so incredibly nice. Which made her wonder what a real touch might be like.

  Earth-shattering.

  Well, a few of them in a row almost certainly would be.

  Another couple walked in the door, reminding them that they were blocking it. Taking her elbow, he smiled politely and led her to the empty hostess station. Then, glancing down at her feet, he murmured, “I see you didn’t hit a shoe store. Those aren’t exactly seaworthy.”

  No, they weren’t. The pointy pumps might be a little dressy for her outfit. But they were also sexy, and the man liked them. She’d seen that in his eyes when they’d had that silly conversation about her feet. “I guess not,” she conceded.

  “Does that mean you’ve already made up your mind about the sunset? Not gonna trust me?”

  “Well, you didn’t steal my car,” she said.

  “That’s me. Not a car thief.”

  “And you showed up when you said you would. You didn’t stand me up.”

  “Not a jerk, either.”

  She smiled up at him. “I think I can trust you.”

  “Good,” he said, a warmth in his stare loading that simple word with additional meaning. He was glad and was looking forward to spending more time with her.

  Mari tingled a little, feeling her skin pucker as she thought about lying on the deck of a boat with him. It definitely wasn’t bikini weather, but she suspected he could keep her warm without much effort.

  A hostess approached, her gaze immediately zeroing in on Danny. Big surprise. Stepping the tiniest bit closer to her date, Marissa said, “I figured if we do go for a sunset cruise, I’d probably want to take them off and get my feet wet, anyway.”

  Apparently not even noticing the other woman’s overly-warm-for-a-hostess-smile, he tsked. “And risk damaging perfection with unforgiving saltwater?”

  “You have a thing for feet?” the hostess asked with a little simper.

  “Not old ones,” Marissa replied.

  That had come out of her mouth purely by reflex because of the conversation they’d had earlier. It had not been meant as a snotty comment to the hostess, who was probably close to forty.

  But the woman still stiffened, her smile growing tight. As they followed her in silence, she felt Danny’s broad shoulders moving in silent amusement.

  They took their seats, watched the woman walk away, then Danny muttered, “Meow.”

  Shaking her head, genuinely embarrassed, she said, “I didn’t mean…”

  He held a hand up. “I’m kidding. I know you were talking about our earlier conversation. Just yanking your chain.”

  His mischievous expression brought a smile to her lips—the same smile she’d had on her face almost every minute since she’d met him. Well, at least the minutes since he’d admitted he’d found her underwear in her car, and had been amused by it.

  She kept smiling as they glanced at the menus. Chuckling as they sipped their drinks. Laughing as they ate their lunch and playfully argued over whether Christian Bale or Michael Keaton had been the better Batman. That was followed by a dozen other get-to-know-you bits of nonsense that didn’t matter but were vitally important just the same.

  Important because every word he said, no matter how innocuous, was uttered in that husky male voice and accompanied by that devastatingly attractive smile. And deep down she knew that every damn one of them was a replacement for the conversation they were having in their own minds. Their layer of small talk was a veneer, a thin coating covering up the questions they weren’t asking.

  Do you feel it?
Am I alone in this? Are we crazy?

  With every word, every laugh, every shared glance, every brush of their hands on the table or glance of each other’s mouths, hands, bodies, the heat grew. She knew it by the way his hand lingered when he reached over to pull a wind-blown leaf out of her hair. By the way he shifted in his chair, sliding his foot closer, until their legs brushed under the table. And when he took a plump cherry tomato out of his salad and held it to her lips, it took all her strength of will not to flick her tongue out and take some salt off his skin to flavor it.

  They had come here just to “see what happened.” She had no doubt that what had happened was that the chemistry and physical attraction between them had grown so thick she could almost bite into it. By the time they’d finished eating and called for the check, she was ready to lean over the table, grab two fistfuls of his thick hair and drag him in for a hot, wet kiss.

  Crazy. He’s a stranger!

  Well, not really. Their conversation hadn’t revealed a whole lot. Not even, she realized, their last names. But she knew he was the oldest child from a big family—like her. Knew he had read the latest bestsellers but couldn’t stand Oprah books. Knew he had a ’67 Impala that he treated like a golden carriage. Knew he flexed his right hand once in a while, as if he had an ache in it. Knew he picked the tomatoes out of his salad.

  She knew she wanted him. That was the most important thing, the only thing that really mattered to her right now.

  Being totally honest, not only was she comfortable going on this man’s boat with him—or just about anywhere else he asked—but she also hoped she’d still be on it tomorrow morning. A quick call to a neighbor who sometimes looked after Brionne, her cat, and she’d be all set. She was probably being totally Mad-Mari about this, but she wanted to have sex with him. Tonight.

  Mari had never been the type to have one-night stands, though she’d had one or two affairs that didn’t last much longer than a week. But somehow, even if she was told that there was no way she would ever see Danny again, she wouldn’t care. She wanted a night in his arms. In his bed. Wanted his hands and his mouth and every inch of his skin touching hers. Right or wrong, the past or the future didn’t have anything to do with it. She just wanted. Now.

  Besides, if she was really about to dive into her real life—everything she’d been planning for all these years—wasn’t one last fling in order? Why not have one last Mad-Mari romp with a hot, sexy, blue collar guy who she couldn’t envision in her future?

  Not the past. Not the future. Just the present.

  And he would be a present—to her—of that she had no doubt.

  “So,” he said as he polished off the last of his fries, “you ever been married?”

  She shook her head. “You?”

  “Just to my job.”

  “It’s really important to you?” she asked, a little surprised. Yes, he appeared to love cars, especially his own, but he seemed so damned smart and capable. Was there really nothing else he could be doing with his life?

  “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I have ever since I was five years old and my dad took me with him to work at O’Hare one day.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He was a lead mechanic for an airline, until he retired. So how about you? I gotta admit, I have a hard time picturing you being old enough to teach college kids.”

  “I’m twenty-nine. Just got my doctorate in psychology and I’m testing out the waters.”

  He gaped. “I don’t know where to start. The doctorate at twenty-nine part, or the fact that you’re a shrink.”

  The reaction was a familiar one. Especially the psychologist part. Everybody worried about that one, as if she would be head-shrinking them from their first meeting.

  “So, Doctor, I’ve been having this pain…”

  “I’m not an M.D.” She laughed. “I couldn’t even prescribe you an aspirin.”

  “Still, I’d be using that ‘Doctor’ all over the place if I had the right to.”

  She couldn’t prevent a tiny smile. Because, yeah, she did like hearing it once in a while. She’d sure worked hard enough to earn it. “My best friend says I kept going to school just to avoid having to be responsible for anything else.”

  “Else?”

  Wishing she hadn’t brought it up, she skimmed over her family history, not giving in to old habits by sharing what lousy parents she’d been born to. That was just too depressing. But she did have to mention the breakup…and, as lightly as she could, her mother’s abandonment. What an upbeat first date she was!

  “So, family responsibilities, school for almost a decade. No time for fun?” he asked, skimming over her past as if realizing she didn’t want to say any more about it.

  “Define fun.”

  “Dating?”

  “I don’t usually call dating fun.”

  “Oooh, that sounds pessimistic.”

  “Pragmatic. The last guy I dated couldn’t handle being with a woman with my I.Q.”

  “You have a pretty high I.Q., huh?”

  “Not especially, but he couldn’t even spell it!” She waved away any more questions, rolling her eyes. “I was stupid and lonely, so I broke my own number one dating rule.”

  “Which is?”

  “I never go out with soldiers.”

  “Smart thinking,” he said with an exaggerated shudder. “So, how about sex?”

  Sure. The word came to her tongue but didn’t fall off it.

  “That’s fun,” she slowly replied. “At least, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  His eyes darkened the tiniest bit, and his smile thinned, as if he regretted getting them into this intimate a conversation. But he didn’t immediately back them out of it.

  “Yeah, so I hear.”

  “Don’t tell me your memory’s fuzzy.”

  “Probably more so than you’d imagine.”

  Hmm.

  “But from what I remember, oh, yeah, I’d call it fun. Especially when it lasts for hours and you aren’t sure whether you’re alive or dead because it doesn’t seem possible that anything can feel so damn good,” he said, his voice unwavering. But it wasn’t throaty or seductive; he merely sounded very sure of what he was saying.

  She breathed deeply, in and out, willing her heart to stop racing. Then she finally nodded. “Interesting,” she murmured, hearing the weakness of her voice.

  So interesting her thighs were locking together reflexively under the table. Good thing she’d put those panties back on. Otherwise she suspected the seam of her new slacks would be damp right now. Heaven knew her panties were.

  “So should we talk about how much you can have fun at theme parks now?” he asked, those amber eyes twinkling.

  She slowly shook her head.

  “What do you want to do?”

  She could tell the truth, just throw it out there on the table and see how he responded. They were waltzing around the subject like a couple on Dancing with the Stars.

  Besides, she’d already made the first move once today by asking him out. Why shouldn’t she take another shot?

  Because asking somebody to lunch is a little different than asking him to rock your world and give you many, many orgasms.

  “Ahem.” She cleared her throat, reaching for her water.

  “Oh,” he said knowingly.

  She swallowed, then eyed him over the glass. “Oh, what?”

  “Oh. Now we both have sex on the brain. I’m sorry, but I’ve been thinking about nothing else but kissing you for hours, I guess I should’ve stuck with that.”

  His voice was silky smooth, intimate. There was warmth in his eyes, but no humor. As if he, too, was ready to move past the light, friendly conversation they’d engaged in throughout lunch and get a whole lot more serious pretty damn quick.

  “Kissing?” she murmured, fascinated by the idea.

  He nodded once. Then, wordlessly, he leaned across the small table, touching his fingers to her chin to tilt her face up. The brief
est of hesitations—to give her a chance to back away—then he moved his mouth to hers.

  Mari’s heart flipped in her chest, she was aware of that much. Then nothing, except the feel of his warm lips against hers, the warmth of his breath flavored with the sweetness and lemon he’d had in his iced tea. It was soft, tender maybe a little tentative as they both acknowledged the importance of this moment.

  A first kiss was a critical thing. It set a tone, lifted a bar. Mari had walked away from good-looking men who didn’t know how to kiss.

  This man did. Oh, God, did he ever.

  Not forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue down her throat, he instead nibbled lightly, seemed content with just the joining of their lips. A slow build. It was a quiet kiss…sexy in its very patience and innocence.

  Frankly, it drove her crazy. Mari wanted more, so much more. Groaning, she parted her lips, sliding her tongue out to taste his, not giving a damn about where they were or who might see. She just needed more of him.

  He gave her more, sliding his hand up to cup her cheek, tangling his fingers in her hair, tilting his head to deepen things. And then, he cooled down, going back to sweet and light, until he finally lifted his mouth from hers and pulled away.

  She heard her choppy breaths, and his, and knew he had been every bit as affected.

  It had been a good first kiss. A very good start to whatever this was. “I want to go on your boat with you,” she admitted. “To…see the sunset.”

  “We can just watch the sunset,” he said, his voice low and tight, as if the idea pained him. “No other expectations.”

  “I know.” Then, emboldened by the need still swirling through her after that kiss, she added, “Or we can kiss again.”

  He smiled. “That sounds like…fun.”

  Remembering what they’d been saying before that kiss—about how to have fun—she smiled back. “Yes, it does.”