‘It ain’t over till it’s over’?”
As Jake leaned in to whisper in her ear, Darcy blocked him with her hand. “Wait. I know this one, dammit. Finally a sports question I know the answer to.”
“We should talk about it.”
“Why? Don’t you think women can answer sports questions?”
His mouth brushed her ear as his arm pressed against her back. “I just like having an excuse to whisper in your ear.”
“Yogi Berra,” she told the trivia host in a surprisingly normal voice, considering how on the inside she was a shivery, breathless mess.
A couple of drinks and a few rounds later, Jake and Darcy were declared the winners. The grand prize was nothing more than bragging rights and the his-and-hers puckered looks Kent and Vanessa sported as they went out the door.
“How are you getting home?” Jake asked as he held Darcy’s sweater so she could slip her arms in. Such a gentleman.
It was an innocent enough question, but Darcy’s overheated, alcohol-fueled imagination added a pronouncedungentlemanly slant to his words. “I’m walking.”
“Alone?”
“It’s not far.”
“You’ve had a bit to drink.” A bit more than she usually did, actually. “I’d feel a lot better if you let me walk you home.”
He didn’t know it yet but, unless she’d totally misread his signals, he’d feel a lot better because if he got as far as her front door, she was going to drag him inside and have her way with him. She wasn’t in the habit of bringing men home after the first date—and random trivia partnership was stretching the definition of date—but she was going to roll the dice on this sexy, smart guy with a sense of humor. They were rare. Plus, she just really, really wanted him.
* * *
J AKE HELD THE DOOR FOR Darcy, cursing himself the entire time. Now wasn’t the time to be romancing a woman, even if she was smoking hot and correctly guessed that painite was considered the rarest mineral gem.
But he couldn’t let her walk home alone in the dark. And after watching that mouth smile at him all night and her teeth catching on her bottom lip when she wasn’t sure of an answer and her tongue flicking out to grab a stray dab of nacho cheese, he wanted a good-night kiss. Maybe it wasn’t the most traditional first date, but it counted. Sort of.
Translating a woman’s body language didn’t come as naturally to him as it did to other guys, but he was pretty sure he was reading Darcy right. She walked really slow, as if she was lingering to make the walk last longer, and she stayed close enough to him so their arms occasionally brushed. After the third time, he threw caution to the wind and captured her hand in his. She didn’t pull away.
“Do you do that every Tuesday night?” he asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“As often as I can. My usual partner couldn’t make it, so I was lucky you showed up tonight.” Her usual partner? He didn’t like the idea of her sharing random facts and sexy smiles with anybody else. “Her youngest was sick and her husband does diapers and homework help, but no puke buckets.”
So not a boyfriend, then. “I’m sorry your friend’s kid is sick, but I’m glad I got to be your partner tonight.”
On the well-lit street, he had no trouble seeing the blush on her cheeks. “And I talk to you about puke buckets. That’s so sexy.”
“Puke buckets might not be sexy, but a woman as pretty as you who knows the Treaty of Paris ended the Seven Years’ War is hot as hell.”
The blush got brighter and he squeezed her hand. It wasn’t a line, either. Brains and beauty were like peanut butter and chocolate—each good on its own, but downright delicious together.
Leave it to him to find a potentially right woman at the totally wrong time. And in the wrong place. The city was a quick stopover between the life in Connecticut he’d grown bored with and the exciting, new restaurant venture with an old friend. When he’d seen a flyer at the auto
As Jake leaned in to whisper in her ear, Darcy blocked him with her hand. “Wait. I know this one, dammit. Finally a sports question I know the answer to.”
“We should talk about it.”
“Why? Don’t you think women can answer sports questions?”
His mouth brushed her ear as his arm pressed against her back. “I just like having an excuse to whisper in your ear.”
“Yogi Berra,” she told the trivia host in a surprisingly normal voice, considering how on the inside she was a shivery, breathless mess.
A couple of drinks and a few rounds later, Jake and Darcy were declared the winners. The grand prize was nothing more than bragging rights and the his-and-hers puckered looks Kent and Vanessa sported as they went out the door.
“How are you getting home?” Jake asked as he held Darcy’s sweater so she could slip her arms in. Such a gentleman.
It was an innocent enough question, but Darcy’s overheated, alcohol-fueled imagination added a pronouncedungentlemanly slant to his words. “I’m walking.”
“Alone?”
“It’s not far.”
“You’ve had a bit to drink.” A bit more than she usually did, actually. “I’d feel a lot better if you let me walk you home.”
He didn’t know it yet but, unless she’d totally misread his signals, he’d feel a lot better because if he got as far as her front door, she was going to drag him inside and have her way with him. She wasn’t in the habit of bringing men home after the first date—and random trivia partnership was stretching the definition of date—but she was going to roll the dice on this sexy, smart guy with a sense of humor. They were rare. Plus, she just really, really wanted him.
* * *
J AKE HELD THE DOOR FOR Darcy, cursing himself the entire time. Now wasn’t the time to be romancing a woman, even if she was smoking hot and correctly guessed that painite was considered the rarest mineral gem.
But he couldn’t let her walk home alone in the dark. And after watching that mouth smile at him all night and her teeth catching on her bottom lip when she wasn’t sure of an answer and her tongue flicking out to grab a stray dab of nacho cheese, he wanted a good-night kiss. Maybe it wasn’t the most traditional first date, but it counted. Sort of.
Translating a woman’s body language didn’t come as naturally to him as it did to other guys, but he was pretty sure he was reading Darcy right. She walked really slow, as if she was lingering to make the walk last longer, and she stayed close enough to him so their arms occasionally brushed. After the third time, he threw caution to the wind and captured her hand in his. She didn’t pull away.
“Do you do that every Tuesday night?” he asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“As often as I can. My usual partner couldn’t make it, so I was lucky you showed up tonight.” Her usual partner? He didn’t like the idea of her sharing random facts and sexy smiles with anybody else. “Her youngest was sick and her husband does diapers and homework help, but no puke buckets.”
So not a boyfriend, then. “I’m sorry your friend’s kid is sick, but I’m glad I got to be your partner tonight.”
On the well-lit street, he had no trouble seeing the blush on her cheeks. “And I talk to you about puke buckets. That’s so sexy.”
“Puke buckets might not be sexy, but a woman as pretty as you who knows the Treaty of Paris ended the Seven Years’ War is hot as hell.”
The blush got brighter and he squeezed her hand. It wasn’t a line, either. Brains and beauty were like peanut butter and chocolate—each good on its own, but downright delicious together.
Leave it to him to find a potentially right woman at the totally wrong time. And in the wrong place. The city was a quick stopover between the life in Connecticut he’d grown bored with and the exciting, new restaurant venture with an old friend. When he’d seen a flyer at the auto
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