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“I am dying to spread thighs I know are creamy and delicious. But I can wait.”
She seemed to relax a bit at his admittance, her shoulders dropping and a smile returning to her pretty face. “I am hungry.”
“Good. I hope you like Italian food. This place is rumored to have the best.”
“Is it Giseppe’s?”
His heart fell. “You’ve been there?”
“No, but I’ve heard rumors too.” As they walked, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. She mirrored his movements and fuck if his dick didn’t get the wrong idea the second her hand rest on his abs and her head against his shoulder. Like she wanted to be as close to him as possible even as they walked.
“What else happened in your day?” He wanted to hear all about her.
She launched into a story of one patient coming in unconscious and they finally discovered he’d been stung by a bee and allergic. In time they’d administered the drug to counteract it, but the whole unit had been in a flurry for hours afterward. Lots of cases of heatstroke and one broken wrist.
“Taking care of soldiers isn’t easy,” she ended.
“Just training and doing our jobs.”
“Dangerous jobs. I know I shouldn’t ask, and you don’t have to answer, but were you hurt at all in Afghanistan?” She eased a tendril of hair behind her ear.
On impulse, he thumbed the small dent at the corner of her lips She kissed the pad and let her lips linger a moment before he dropped his hand. The whisper of her warm lips on his skin, the idea of those same lips on his arousal made his pants that much tighter.
“Shot. A bullet graze to the calf. I’ll show you sometime.” He waggled his brows, and she laughed at his comical attitude.
“No lasting problems?” That crease was back between her brows, and his heart swelled more for her worry.
“Unless you count an ugly scar, none at all.”
“All the tough guys have scars in the movies.”
He pulled her arm closer. “Guess I’m a tough guy then. Want me to show you all my scars?”
“Maybe later. Maybe I can kiss each one of them for you. But right now I see the restaurant up ahead.”
He tried to focus on the last part of that sentence and not her “maybe later” part. He wanted to skip the pasta and get right to the after. He had a feeling she would like being wined and dined, but his second part of the date would really appeal to a woman like her.
∞∞∞
The pasta was the best Allison had ever had. She’d ordered traditional spaghetti and meatballs, and Lincoln had agreed it was his preference too. When they both reached into the breadbasket at the same time, Allison laughed.
“I feel a little likeLady and the Trampright now.”
He laughed too. “I haven’t seen that since I was a kid. One of my favorites.”
“What did you like about it?” She took her slice of bread first and slathered it thickly with butter. She didn’t often have to watch what she ate—she skipped plenty of meals working the chaos of the triage unit, and when she overdid it with food, she thought it must balance out.
“I liked how the male dog always used his resources to get himself out of trouble.” Lincoln arched his brow, giving him a devil-may-care appearance. Her lady parts tightened, and she suddenly wanted to finish eating and go somewhere quiet so they could be alone.
She bit off her bread and chewed. She could see what Lincoln had said about himself was true. When she’d forbidden him from returning to triage, he’d come up with a plan to still get a message to her.
Strangely, she wasn’t mad about this. His act had touched her—shown her how important she must be to him for him to go to this length to see her again.
“Are you glad you came out with me, Allison?” His thoughts, so close to hers, made her sit up straighter.
“Yes, I am.”
He smiled like the tiger that had just sneaked up on its prey. “Good. When we’re done, I have another part of the date for you.”
