Friendly Persuasion. Dawn Atkins

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Friendly Persuasion - Dawn  Atkins


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      “Yeah,” he said, then, almost as an afterthought, “señorita.”

      She smiled into his neck.

      He slid out of her body, then hugged her in a familiar way. Uh-oh. She became abruptly aware that she’d just had sex with her friend Ross. She slid to the floor, embarrassed. “I’d better go,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

      She grabbed the puddle of silk and lace—her dress and teddy—from the floor and rushed into the bathroom to dress. When she came out, Ross was sitting up in the bed, beautiful and tan against the white sheets.

      “Why don’t you stay?” he said. “We have the room all night.” His expression promised even more sensual delights.

      But that would spoil the illusion. Like Cinderella before the clock sounded midnight, she had to get away before reality sank in. She slipped on her shoes and shook her head. “That would be too much. You gave me exactly what I needed.”

      “I’m glad.”

      “You were perfect—a perfect stranger.”

      He saluted her. “I aim to please.” But that was too Ross, so he added, “Adiós, cara mía.”

      “Adiós, Miguel, mi amor,” she said with a grin.

      All the way home, she felt invigorated. She couldn’t believe that was her with her legs around Ross’s hips, crying out wildly for more. Just like one of Ross’s women. She’d never had sex like that in her life—reveling in her body, watching herself move and moan. And sitting on a table? Omigod. She would have thought it would be too awkward. But nooo. With Ross it was graceful and perfect.

      She tested herself. Did she feel she was falling in love? Not at all. She felt sensual and confident and relaxed and wonderful. It had been just the way Tina described it—two people sharing physical pleasure. It didn’t have to be love.

      Except, what would happen when she saw Ross at S&S for their noon game of spades? It could be really, really weird. Or really, really funny. Or really, really hot. She had no idea which.

      She knew one thing—she’d split the hotel bill with him. She’d checked the rate on the way out. Three hundred dollars was too much for Ross to spend on a favor to a friend. Luckily, she knew that he was an extravagant guy without a thrifty impulse in his soul. Otherwise, she might have to wonder if there was more to this mystery date than was good for either of them.

      4

      “ABSO-FRIGGIN’-LUTELY amazing,” Tina said after Kara had described the events at the Hyatt the night before. They were in the coffee room where Kara was drinking a double-bagger of Earl Grey because she could barely keep her eyes open. She’d lain awake all night reliving her Latin lover adventure.

      “It was amazing,” Kara said wistfully. “Only I don’t know what to say to him now. He saw me…you know…like that.”

      “Like what? With your head thrown back, eyes rolling, sweating and moaning like a beast? Like that?”

      “No, better than that. I was really, really sexy.” The memory made her blush. “And today I’m going to have to ask the guy whose hips I wrapped my legs around last night to quit belching the lyrics of songs over the office intercom.”

      Tina opened the refrigerator for what Kara knew to be her usual morning pilfering. “God, nothing in here but Sampson’s peanut-butter celery that he never eats.” She emerged with a piece of it.

      “Could I get some help here?” Kara said, calling her friend back to her problem.

      “Just act normal,” Tina answered, waving the stalk in the air. “You have a double life. Last night you were an exotic stranger and he was Don Juan. Today you’re back to being a repressed account exec and he’s an overgrown kid who collects comic books.”

      “I guess so. And last night did the trick. I can definitely see how sex without love works.”

      “Poof!” Tina said, pretending to tap Kara’s head with her celery wand. “You’re sexually liberated.”

      “It was nice of Ross to do that for me, don’t you think?”

      “He got something out of the deal, too,” Tina said, then gave Kara a speculative look. “You’re not making too much of this, are you? No urge to register at Macy’s or anything?”

      “Of course not. This was a one-time thing.” Except all she’d done for the past ten hours was relive the event and long for more. “So, you say, just act like nothing happened?”

      “Exactly.”

      She sipped her tea, clutching the warm mug with her nervously cold palms. “Speaking of nothing happening, how did it go with Tom last night?”

      Tina blushed. Amazing. Tina never blushed. “It was bizarre. It started out like I planned—it’s two a.m. and I tell him my car won’t start and could he give me a ride home. He looks at me funny, but he says he’ll do it.” Tina tapped her lip with the jagged-ended celery stick.

      “Then what?”

      “So, I climb into his car, lean into him to free my seat belt, giving him plenty of thigh to ogle—and he ogled, all right. Good, I think, we’re getting somewhere. I’ll invite him in for thank-you coffee and we’ll see if he’s as attentive in bed as he is at the bar.

      “He hardly talks in the car, but I drag out of him that he’s close to his family, and he’s taking classes to be an engineer. His eyes are so blue…. Anyway, we get to my place and I ask him to come in and you won’t believe what he says to me.” Pause. Tina was such a drama queen.

      “What?”

      She took a bite of celery and chewed slowly. “He says, ‘You need your sleep.’”

      “What?”

      “Then he says, ‘Give me your distributor cap and I’ll put it back on before you pick up the car.’ Can you believe it? He was on to me the whole time. Then he offers me a ride to work this morning.”

      “Wow. What did you do?”

      “I gave him the cap, but I rode in with my neighbor.”

      “So, are you giving up?”

      “Are you kidding? I figure he likes to make the first move. Old-fashioned, but nice. He held the door for me and walked me up to my apartment, too. A gentleman.” She sighed, then tossed the stub of celery into the trash. “I’ll just play it his way. Let him come to me.”

      “Maybe he’s not your kind of guy, Tina.”

      “He’s hot. That makes him my kind of guy.”

      “What if he wants to get serious?”

      “No guy wants to get serious. Not if he has half a chance not to. That only happens in romance novels.”

      “Just be careful.”

      “Ditto,” she said, looking past Kara’s shoulder. “Miguel at twelve o’clock.”

      Kara whirled to find Ross leaning against the doorjamb taking a swig from a quart bottle of V8 juice.

      “Ross!” she said, too bright, too nervous.

      “Have fun last night, Kara?” he asked, his expression neutral. “Meet anybody?”

      “I, uh, I…actually, I did.” Her heart pounded in her ears at the sight and smell of him—she could still detect Miguel’s spicy scent. It seemed weird to talk about it in front of Tina, but she needed some acknowledgment that she hadn’t been alone in the miracle of it all.

      “That’s good.” Nothing flickered in Ross’s eyes. She almost despaired. Hadn’t it meant anything to him at all?

      “I hope it was all that you wanted.” Then he touched


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