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"It's catch and release." He took the glasses from her face and looked away long enough to place them back in the case. "I'll pick you up at six."
"In the evening?"
"In the morning."
"That's my only day to sleep in."
"I'll make it worth your while." He slid another pair of glasses on her face and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek and down the side of her neck. His touch was like magic, sending his incredible sexual energy dancing across her skin.
She looked at him through the dark lenses, and her breath got stuck in her chest somewhere around her heart. "How?"
"I'll let you use my second favorite rod."
"Why can't I use your favorite rod?"
He laughed and set the sunglasses on top of the cash register. His dark head dipped, blotting out everything but him. "Anytime, babe," he whispered just above her lips.
Her hands grasped the front of his shirt. "Rob, I think-"
"Don't think." He pressed one of her hands over his heart, and she felt the strong beat against her palm. "Just feel. Feel what you do to me. Feel what happens when I'm around you." His mouth covered hers and blotted out everything but the warm male scent of his body filling her lungs, the slick tangle and slide of their tongues, and the taste of him. He tasted good, like passion fruit and lust.
He tilted his head to one side and turned up the heat. The kiss turned hotter, wetter, and he peeled her fingers from his shirt and slid her hands up and around his neck.
He gently sucked her tongue into his mouth, and she swayed against him. He pressed a hand to the small of her back and brought her breasts in contact with his solid chest. Her nipples tightened as desire pulled like a knot in her stomach, a visceral reaction to the taste of his mouth, the touch of his hands, and the heavy bulge brushing against her lower belly. Her body remembered his and wanted more of the pleasure he could give.
His kiss was like the hot buttered rum she'd drunk the first night they'd met. It tasted very good in her mouth and spread fire throughout her body, heating up the pit of her stomach and making her light-headed. The kiss turned urgent, needy, like he wanted to suck the air from her lungs. He was so good at making her body react to his, and making her forget exactly why she should avoid any sort of relationship. She tore her mouth from his. "I can't do this," she said as she took deep breaths. "I came here to talk about Stanley and your mother. We shouldn't do this again."
"Sure we should."
No they shouldn't. He was bad for her. He'd crush her heart and she didn't think she could take another heartbreak. She turned her face away. "I think we should just be friends."
"I can't be just your friend now." He touched her chin and brought her gaze back to his. "The other night when I came to the M &S, I didn't plan on making love to you. I didn't even know why I was knocking on the door until you answered. Then I saw you standing there and I knew." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm drawn to you, Kate. I used to think it was just sex. That I just wanted to get you naked, but it's more than that now. I like talking to you and being with you. I look for you in a crowd or the second I walk into the grocery store, and most of the time I don't even know I'm doing it." He brushed his nose back and forth against hers. "After I made love to you the first time, I should have taken you home and made love to you in my bed. All night long." He paused and his voice got lower, rougher when he spoke again. "That's what I wanted to do then. And what I want to do now." He pulled his head back. "I think about you when you're not around, and the really pathetic part is, I'm not sure you even like me very much."
"I like you," she whispered and ran her fingers through the back of his fine hair. He seemed to know just what to say to wear down her resistance. "Even when I try really hard not to like you."
He grasped her waist, picked her up, and sat her back down on the counter. "Just think of all the fun we could have if you didn't try so hard." He stepped between her legs and pushed his hands beneath her skirt. He slid his palms up the tops of her thighs. The warmth of his touch spread to her crotch.
She grabbed his wrists, and with her last shred of sanity said, "We can't do this here. I have to go back to work."
He kissed the side of her neck. "What are you wearing?"
She tilted her head to one side. Okay, one more minute. "A skirt."
"No." His fingers brushed the edge of her panties. "Here. It feels like lace."
"It is."
"What color?"
What color? At the moment she couldn't recall. "White." Maybe?
He groaned deep in his throat and pulled back far enough to look into her face. "Show me."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"Someone might come in."
