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“All right, what the hell,” I say. I heave myself off the bed and pop the disc of Cannonball Run into the DVD player. Yeah, it’s basically ready to go whenever I’m in the mood.
Jewel makes a curious face after a few minutes. “This is your favorite movie?”
“Yes, ma’am, Burt Reynolds is the greatest actor of all time. He—and my dad, of course—taught me everything I know.”
“Huh.”
Eventually she curls up on the bed and nestles into my shoulder. And it’s nice. Cozy. I haven’t felt cozy in, well, in a long time.
After a while, I put my arm around her and she inches closer.
She makes good-natured comments, but I can tell she doesn’t really enjoy the film. She asks. “I’m kind of attracted to Dean Martin in a clerical collar. Is he going to sing anytime soon? …Ooh, Peter Fonda…you know I can see why you like this, I don’t hate looking at Farrah Fawcett.”
I squeeze Jewel’s shoulder and inform her, “I’m not watching for Farrah Fawcett. Burt is the man.”
She considers this. “Well, he does have a lot of hair, which I find sexy. And he has a real bad boy grin. You two have that in common.”
I swivel toward her and brush her hair out of her eyes. “That’s the nicest compliment anyone has ever given me.”
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t get a lot of compliments, so I don’t have a lot to compare it to,” I say.
She angles her sweet face up at me and twists her lips doubtfully. “Well, I don’t see why. You are a total stud muffin.”
She nudges me with her stockinged foot.
I have to laugh. “It’s been a while since I heard that.”
“Hey,” she says, her hand petting my leg. “Whatever nice thing I say about you is one hundred percent true.”
I swallow. “I have to confess something.”
“Confess, my son.”
I close my eyes in shame and wait for a bad reaction. “Max isn’t on a play date. He’s spending the night at my cop friend Barry’s house.”
I wait for the ax to fall, but it doesn’t.
She’s confused. “Oh. Well is he OK? Do you need to go pick him up?”
“No, he’s fine. He loves it over there. Barry’s daughters shower him with attention; he probably won’t want to come home tomorrow. No, the confession part is, my motive for bringing you over here. I arranged for him to stay over at Barry’s because I want to sleep with you.”
I hold my breath. Finally she says, “Oh, thank god you brought it up. I was starting to think I’d done something to turn you off.”
I blow out the breath I’d been holding. “Not at all. I was trying to show you a proper date.”
She laughs and playfully nudges me in the ribs. “I don’t need a proper date to know that I’d like to get smushy with you.”
I can’t imagine what I’ve done for the universe to send me a woman this eager. My lips land on her cheek, then travel across her jawline and over the temptingly soft area in front of her ear. Her hand journeys up my leg. We each pivot toward the other on the bed, kissing and petting over our clothes. I’m getting hot as fuck.
Breathing into the kiss, I ask her, “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Because I’m not huge on people and I don’t have a ton of friends. So once you let me sleep with you, I could get very attached.”
“You already are,” she murmurs teasingly into my mouth between soft kisses.
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re right.” My hand covers her breast and her sweet nipple rises to meet my palm through the layers of her bra and sweater. “You’re not ever getting rid of me.”
She sighs and traces kisses down my neck. “That’s good news because I have a lot of friends and it’s hard for me to tell who are the real ones and who simply want something from me.”
