At Her Beck and Call. Dawn Atkins
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a strand on her lip.
Mike brushed it away with gentle fingers, taking care of her the way he took care of the town. She felt the heat of his touch for long seconds. His diamond-chocolate eyes glittered at her, wanting her. He tilted his face, leaned closer. He wanted to kiss her.
And she wanted him to.
Why not? It was as if the whole evening had built to this moment. They were in a tiny time warp where this couldn’t possibly be wrong.
Normally, she would make the move, but this time she wanted to be kissed, to be swept away by Mike’s mouth, by his desire for her. She closed her eyes, parted her lips and waited. How would he kiss her? Soft or urgent? Gentle or fierce? Would he just use his lips or tease with his tongue, too? She hoped—
“Hang on,” Mike said.
She opened her eyes to see him galloping toward his car. God, had she scared him away? But then she saw him grab something out of his trunk—two golf clubs and two boxes of balls. He ran back to her, looking so good—his upper body tight and controlled, his gait easy, as though he could go for miles without breaking a sweat.
“Let’s do it,” he said when he reached her. “Let’s hit balls into the dark.” He didn’t seemed to have noticed she’d pooched her lips out at him. Good. Better, really. Less complicated.
“I’ve only played miniature golf,” she said.
“Close enough. Let me show you.” He demonstrated the grip, the stance, the swing. She’d never thought golf was particularly sexy, but the way Mike’s body twisted, muscles graceful with power, made her sex ache and her stomach melt. She’d love to see that body naked, wrapped around her, not a golf club.
“Want to try?” he asked, handing her the club.
Oh, yeah. “Sure.” She focused on getting the hang of a swing, which he’d made look easy. Her first tries were shaky and tentative, but soon she was ready to try hitting a ball.
“I’ve got two boxes of three balls, two brands, so we can tell them apart when we come back to see how we did.” He put the first ball on a tee. “You go first.”
“About where is the hole?”
When he pointed, his arm brushed her cheek. The sensation made her feel faint, but she prepared to swing, the swish of wind through the mesquites making her feel so light, she was afraid she could be blown away, too.
She wished Mike would put his arms around her, under the pretense of helping her, just to feel his skin against hers, but this had to be her own wild swing into the night.
“Here goes.” She pulled back her club, kept her eye on the ball and swung with all her might. There was a thwack, the blow vibrated the club in her hand, and the ball arced in a high curve she followed until it disappeared into the inky dark.
Mike whistled. “You’re a natural, lady.”
“That felt good.” She laughed with pleasure. “Now you go.”
He set up and swung, the ball flying higher than hers, but disappearing at the same point in the darkness. “You’re right. That does feel good.”
He set up her second ball, which she hit higher and harder than the first one. She whooped with delight.
Mike’s second ball flew straight out and way high.
Her third ball went even farther.
“You hit pretty hard there,” Mike said, whacking his third ball the farthest of all.
“Not as hard as you.”
“We can see how close we came tomorrow. Maybe after work?”
“Great.” She stared out to where the balls had gone. That had been fun and satisfying and it did make her feel less frustrated. She turned to say so to Mike and—
His mouth was right there, his hand at her cheek, and he kissed her. It was great—urgent and gentle, lips and tongue at once, teasing and hungry at the same time. She wanted it to go on and on. She was sinking into him and flying away at the same time, lighter than air, riding one of Jasmine’s pink clouds.
Then, Mike broke it off.
“Why did you do that?” she gasped.
“I got carried away.”
“No. I mean why did you stop?”
“I’m your boss, Autumn,” he said.
“Not until tomorrow, you’re not.”
She leaned in, but he backed up. “It was inappropriate. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. Or me, either. We have an intense attraction.”
“Like my brother and your friend. Yeah.”
And they certainly didn’t want to go there. That was his message and she agreed with all her heart.
Her pink cloud evaporated instantly and Autumn hit the ground hard. She’d been ready to have sex on a dead and dusty golf green. Way too weird.
“I really apologize,” Mike said, looking so guilty.
“We kissed, okay? Don’t go painting a scarlet A on your forehead, Mike.”
“Still. I was way out of line.”
“What? Mayors are superhuman now?”
“Got the cape and tights in the trunk.” He smiled, but he clearly still felt awful.
“Leave them there. You’re fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.” But she was aware that her heart was still pounding from the kiss. “We should head back. I need sleep to impress my new boss tomorrow.”
“Ouch.” He grimaced.
She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t do that. I wanted you to kiss me.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” But he was right to stop. She had an internship to focus on. She needed her feet planted firmly on the shore, not flailing around in the deep end of an unpredictable sea.
They were quiet for the short drive. Through the sunroof Autumn watched the moon follow them home. Now and then she turned to smile reassuringly at Mike. No harm done.
Back in town, Mike parked beside her car in the high school parking lot and helped her out, hanging on to her hand for a few extra seconds. “I’ll see you in the morning?” His eyes held regret. He’d wanted more. Good. It was no fun wishing for more all alone.
“Bright and early. You bet.”
“Not early. You’ll upset Evelyn. She’ll think you’re trying to show her up.”
“Okay. On time then.” She looked around the quiet streets. There were no cars moving and barely any lights—just a few security bulbs inside business and the tall lights in the school lot where they stood. “I guess it’s good no one’s around,” she said. “Being out alone so late together…talk about starting gossip.”
“Yeah.” He smiled ruefully, then looked past her and his smile fell away. “Speaking of which…that’s my brother’s car.”
She turned and saw something move across the rear window of the Acura sedan—an arm, then a head. A familiar head. Jasmine and Mark were making out in the backseat. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow,” he said grimly.
They’d been so crazed they couldn’t make it to a house. What would that be like? Thrilling and scary, like the deep end of the pool she’d nearly slipped into with Mike.
I want that. She felt it so fiercely she had to brace herself against her bumper.
“So do we leave them here?” Mike asked.
“If