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More charm.
And I have that in ample supply.
"So what's your deal, Miss Sarah?" I ask, leaning close to her. "You a no-strings kinda gal?"
I spin her out and back and she's in my arms, held tight. "You could say that," she replies. "I've been burned before, and these days I like my independence. Is that so wrong?"
"Nothin' wrong with that at all," I tell her. "You know what I do?"
"No."
"I'm a diver," I tell her.
"Seriously? What does that mean?"
I spin her again, out and back.
"I travel all over this country and I fix stuff...underwater," I say. "It's not what I would call glamorous, but itisdangerous. Down in Louisiana, they say we're crazy."
"And what do you say?" she asks.
I laugh. "I say I'm free."
Sarah's eyes widen in surprise, and I can see the intrigue written all over her face. "That's...impressive," she admits. "I've never met a diver before."
I grin. "Well, now you have. And, let me tell you, I know how to handle myself in sticky situations."
Sarah laughs again, and it makes me want her even more. "Well, I'm sure you do," she says. "But I think I can handle myself pretty well, too."
I raise an eyebrow. "Is that right?"
She nods, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, yeah. I'm not just some delicate flower, you know."
I chuckle. "I never thought you were."
We dance some more, our bodies moving together in perfect sync. I can feel the sexual tension building between us, thick and heavy in the air. Every time I look at her, I feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper into her spell.
Eventually, the reception winds down and guests start to leave. Sarah and I are still dancing, lost in each other's embrace. As the last song ends, I can see the hesitation in her eyes. The night is almost over, and we'll have to say goodbye.
But I don't want to let her go.
"Come with me," I say, taking her hand.
Sarah hesitates for a moment but eventually nods.
The night's just getting started.
Chapter four
Sarah
Ishouldreallystaybehind and clean up...make sure everything is set to go, that the chairs go back into storage, the furniture, that the vendors all get paid.
I'm dropping the ball by doing this.
But I can't resist him.
I feel like a teenager as Jake Hart pulls me across the parking lot, snowflakes falling into my hair and getting stuck in his beard. We reach his car, and he opens the door for me with a smile. I can't believe how much I want him right now. As I get into the passenger seat, I feel his hand wander up my thigh. In seconds, he's pressed up against me, his mouth on mine.
