Tempting Adam. Dorie Graham
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how best to serve each meal. Body parts tended to replace dishes, and fingers silverware.
Colored photographs showing couples “dishing up” the meals accompanied a number of the entries. Warmth filled her. Had Adam sent the book? Was this the level he wanted to take her to? She closed her eyes and imagined the two of them replacing one of the pictured couples.
With a lazy motion, Adam drizzled a honey glaze over her breasts, while she offered him a morsel of chicken. He accepted the bite from her fingertips, then bent to lick the glaze from her nipples.
Her body tensed, as sensual heat filled her. Her nipples tightened and her sex pulsed. If they became lovers, would they remain friends? Could she make love with him, risk losing his friendship forever?
A kaleidoscope of memories danced over her: a twelve-year-old Adam helping her set up her very first business, a dog-walking service; Adam standing and cheering wildly when she placed fifth in a local teen pageant; and finally, Adam holding her and keeping the world at bay after her father had died and she thought she’d break into a million pieces. He’d kept her together through it all.
Her heart swelled as realization dawned. All she had to do was convince him that he could be every bit as happy without overcomplicating his life. She could lose him to another woman, or risk losing his friendship, but if she gathered her courage she stood to gain so much more.
She was ready for the next step. She stood motionless as the possibility shimmered before her. Then she straightened, drawing her shoulders back and lifting her chin.
“There’s just one thing to do, then.”
She hugged the book to her front. The future stretched ahead of her, her path crystal clear. Since Adam seemed bent on remaining anonymous, she’d have to let him know of her interest.
She’d seduce her best friend.
ADAM’S STOMACH RUMBLED the following morning as he peered hopefully into his refrigerator. He peeled back the cover of a plastic container. “Hmm, what have we here?”
A fine covering of green coated the remains of some forgotten meal. Wrinkling his nose, he dumped the entire container into the trash.
Too bad he hadn’t talked Lauren into dinner last night. He’d settled for Chinese takeout, which had done the trick, but hadn’t stuck to his ribs the way one of her hearty meals would have. His stomach continued its protest as he scavenged his pantry to no avail.
He shoved an old can of anchovies back onto a shelf and straightened. There was only one thing to do. He’d go out for breakfast, and he’d drag Lauren along with him. Frustrating woman had probably skipped dinner last night.
Shaking his head, he grabbed his car keys. She worked way too hard. If he didn’t intervene, she’d probably waste away to nothing.
A scant fifteen minutes later, he pulled into her driveway. The maple tree in front scattered its golden leaves as he strode up her walk. He inhaled the early-morning air, crisp with the promise of fall. Bypassing the front door, he headed through a little gate to the backyard. The fountain he’d installed bubbled quietly at the center of a small flower garden. The curtains in Lauren’s bedroom window remained drawn.
“Stayed up late working, sleepyhead?” he murmured to himself as he searched the ground for a couple of pebbles.
With a practiced aim, he tossed the pebbles at her upstairs window. After the fifth throw, the curtains moved, then the window slid upward and she peered blearily down at him. “I’m sleeping.”
The sun caught her tousled hair, turning it a dazzling gold. She looked warm and rumpled and utterly attractive. A soft breeze rustled the thin fabric of her oversize T-shirt, skimming it across the swells of her breasts. He stood rooted in place, those generous curves holding him entranced, until he tore his gaze away.
“You worked late into the night, didn’t you?” He forced a note of accusation into his voice.
She spread her arms in a long, languorous stretch, again drawing his gaze to her breasts as they thrust forward in a most enticing way. The open neckline shifted, teasing him with a glimpse of her creamy shoulder.
His throat tightened. In spite of his long history of taming his libido around her, Lauren’s womanly nature proved impossible to ignore this morning. He couldn’t take his gaze from the clear outline of her erect nipples.
“Quit nagging.” She gathered the cotton shirt in her hand, pulling it up to reveal the soft curve of her belly. She rubbed it, running small circles around her navel. “Hmm…my stomach’s empty. If I don’t eat right now, I think I’ll drop. Let’s make breakfast, then you can tell me why you rousted me from my bed.”
Her bed. He stood speechless. Didn’t she realize her words, not to mention that little gesture, set his mind on a track he made a habit of avoiding? As her hand made another pass, he imagined his tongue following in its wake.
That he was having this fantasy about Lauren made it all the more intense. Forbidden.
What would it be like to make love to a woman he actually cared about? Not that he hadn’t cared for any of his previous partners, but he’d never felt the depth of attachment he felt for Lauren with any of them.
The idea invoked a strange warmth in his chest.
“Well, if we’re not going to eat, then I’m going back to sleep.” Her lower lip rounded in the sexiest pout he’d ever had the honor of witnessing.
“Uh, no. Breakfast, I mean, that’s why I came—I’m here…to take you to breakfast.”
“I don’t feel like going out.” She motioned him toward the back door. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We’ll see what we can cook up.”
Was he imagining that challenge in her gaze? His mind raced with the possibilities. She had been intrigued by the idea of them being more than friends. He hadn’t imagined the awareness in her eyes the other night.
He stood dazed, staring at the assortment of potted plants gathered by her back door. Then dropping to one knee, he lifted half a dozen of them before finding her door key.
Seconds later, he stood in her kitchen. His gaze fell on the table where they’d eaten so recently. It suddenly seemed small, intimate. Her footsteps padded down the carpeted stairs. His pulse raced.
He turned to face her as she entered, still wearing the oversize T-shirt. Rather than conceal her, its loose fit accented her curves with every movement. His gaze traveled below the hemline, down the tantalizing length of her legs. Apparently, she wasn’t wearing much else.
He’d seen her in various states of undress before, but he’d never reacted like this, not even when they’d gone swimming at their hideout by the lake and she’d worn that skimpy bikini of hers. What was different now?
She moved toward him, a smile playing across her lips. Her gaze drifted over him, sending his hormones tripping. She was different. He hadn’t been imagining it the other night. One thing he’d become very adept at over the years was reading the signals. As she closed in on him this morning, she was throwing out all kinds of signals.
Open-armed, she stood before him. “I need a hug. You’re right. I stayed up too late.”
She slid into his embrace, as she had done throughout the years, but her arms slipped tighter around his neck and she lingered long enough to imprint her body on his. A bolt of lust pierced him. Then she breezed away as though nothing unusual had passed between them.
He exhaled as she moved to the refrigerator. Maybe he was imagining it all. Without taking his gaze from her, he settled at the table. He’d follow her lead. What he’d do if she took him down the same path as his wayward mind he wasn’t sure, but the temptation of her forbidden fruit might prove more than he could resist.
“How about eggs Benedict?” She glanced back at him as she bent low over the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. The T-shirt rode up the back of her legs. Satiny, cream-colored