AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She busied herself finding glasses, messing with the lighting—too much, too little, too, oh god, she was an idiot—and putting on music … selecting something random because she was suddenly too nervous to think about what she even had on her iPod. Luckily it turned out to be something low and rockish. Sexy.
But then there was nothing left to do but get the Scotch from the cupboard where it lived and carry it and the glasses over to where he sat. She put the bottle down on the coffee table and held out the glasses to him. He took one, his fingers brushing hers. She shivered.
Alex patted the sofa next to him. “Come here.”
She obeyed, her knees grateful that she had something else solid to hold her up and that they could give up the ghost. Alex leaned forward and picked up the bottle, tilting it to look at the label.
“Macallan. Nice.” He unscrewed the cap, tilted it toward her glass, sloshed a good couple of fingers in, then did the same with his own.
She sat up straighter. “Did you want ice? I have ice.” She was babbling but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Neat is fine.” He sipped the drink slowly, breathed out appreciation, and took another sip. Maggie took what could only be termed a gulp. She knew what the damned stuff tasted like. Right now she needed something to burn some of these ridiculous nerves away.
“Very nice,” Alex murmured. “And here I thought you were a tequila girl.”
“Only when I’m having a very bad day,” she muttered.
“Today isn’t bad?”
She tilted the glass at him, let herself study his face over the amber liquid. “It’s been okay so far.”
“Just okay?” He put his glass down. “Watch out, you might wake up my competitive streak.”
“Oh, do you have a competitive streak?” She swallowed another mouthful of Scotch, then pushed her glass away. Burning away the nerves was okay but she didn’t want to actually drink much. It might dull the anticipatory delight that lay below those nerves. The part of her that wanted to stretch like a cat and wait to be coaxed into purring as she listened to the rumble of his voice.
“I have been accused of it on occasion.”
“Back when you played baseball?” she asked.
“Maybe more recently than that.”
“You never did tell me when you played.”
“Later,” he said. “Right now I’m more interested in current events than ancient history.” He shifted on the sofa, so that his thigh pressed up against hers.
“You want to talk about the economy?”
“I thought we could talk technology. Like how the use of text messaging has improved male/female relations in the United States.” He smiled.
Damn. She was lost when he did that.
“By allowing partners to remind each other to buy milk?”
“By allowing them to remind each other about other things. Do you need a reminder, Maggie? You could look back at what we discussed earlier.”
“Uh, my phone’s in my purse,” she managed. “But maybe we could try the less high-tech version?”
“Such as?”
“Well.” She decided to throw caution to the wind entirely and pushed up and swung herself around to straddle his lap. “We could start with some basic techniques.”
His hands settled on her hips, fingers splayed, the pressure of his grip pressing her down against him. She’d worn jeans to the game. Jeans and long boots and she was suddenly regretting that there were too many layers between them. Still, there was no mistaking that Alex was quite happy to find her in his lap.
She wriggled a little closer, heard his breath catch.
But he didn’t make a move. His hands stayed still, though his fingers curled a little harder into her flesh. His pupils had gone wider, darkening his eyes. She’d never thought green could look hot but it did now. His restraint made her want to see if she could break it. She ran her hands across his chest, smiling as she felt the thump of his heart under her palm, and then she let her fingers go exploring, tracing the lines of his face. As one finger drifted over his lips, he sucked at it gently then released her again. Every time they’d kissed it had been hot and fast and unexpected, no time to learn the lines of the man who’d dug himself so quickly beneath her skin. No time to impress the feel of him into her nerves and memory.
Slow.
