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Her hand closed around the card, the blood pulsing through her fingers making the card seem to throb beneath her touch.
“That’s it? Just show up at one o’clock?”
“I’ll give you more instructions when you call. If you call. You may change your mind once you’re alone and have a chance to think things over.”
He tipped back his head and downed the rest of his coffee, effectively ending the discussion. Setting the empty mug on the table, the tip of his tongue darted out to lick the stray droplets of coffee from his lips.
Gayle swallowed a hasty gulp of her chai, fighting the urge to lean across the table and taste his coffee-flavored mouth. But she couldn’t tear her gaze from the gleaming track of wetness.
“Oh! The coffee must have been too hot. Your lip is peeling.”
Rikard stiffened, his gloved hand rising to pat his lips. “You’re right. Fortunately I have a tube of lip balm in my car. But I should take care of it as soon as possible.”
He stood, pulling out his wallet and dropping a ten-dollar bill on the table.
“That should cover the drinks. It was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to receiving your call tomorrow.”
He bent his head in a gesture reminiscent of a bow, turned, and walked away from the café without a backwards glance.
Gayle sat at the table, stunned by his sudden departure. There was something strange about him, no doubt about it.
Smiling, she leaned ba
ck in her chair and sipped her chai, the spicy warmth heating her mouth as thoughts of what tomorrow might hold heated her blood. Her heart pounded. Rikard had been quite clear that they wouldn’t have sex until they trusted each other. But how long would it take to build that trust? Not long, she hoped.
Although, if he planned on talking to her to build trust, she’d probably be orgasming anyway. The man’s voice could charm the panties off a nun. And despite six years of Catholic school, Gayle was most definitely not a nun.
Picking up his business card, she memorized his phone number and address. She was taking no chances that it might get lost before she could call him. Sunday afternoon, she fully intended to have her first session with Master Rikard.
Chapter Two
Recounting her date with Rikard to her friend Carrie, Gayle was at a loss to explain her reaction to him. Her willingness to blindly accept his comments with no question seemed, in retrospect, strangely suspicious.
Yet, he obviously recognized the effect he had on her, or else why would he tell her to take the night to think it over rather than asking for her answer then and there?
“So, what are you going to tell him?”
Gayle rolled over on her bed, the cell phone tucked against her cheek, and braced her stocking feet against the beige wall that she hadn’t yet found time to decorate.
“I’m going to say yes, of course.”
“Even though he’s giving off these weird vibes?”
“God, Carrie! He’s giving off sex-on-a-stick vibes. The man could have had any woman in the café just by opening his mouth and asking.”
Just remembering the warm darkness of his voice made her hot all over again. Idly, she stroked her fingertips across her nipples, wishing it was Rikard’s hand caressing her.
“Did I mention his gloves?”
“No.”
“He was wearing black leather driving gloves. They hugged his hands like they’d been painted on. And they were incredibly sexy.”
“Driving gloves were sexy? Next you’ll say you get turned on by those woolen crosses between baseball hats and berets that British guys wear to drive around the countryside.”
Gayle laughed with her friend. “Don’t worry. I’m not that far gone.”
“Uh-huh. Only because Rikard the Super Stud hasn’t worn one yet.”
