Friendly Persuasion. Dawn Atkins
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to use my work ethic against me.” He was right, though. If she waited, she’d have Thursday and Friday and all day Saturday to get nervous. She did need to learn how to keep things casual. If not Ross, then who? Someone she’d have to start fresh with. Why not now? “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this thing.”
“You make it sound like a project.”
“No. I don’t mean that. I’m just—”
“Nervous, I know. How about a little atmosphere?” He leaned past her and pushed a button on a remote. The gravelly voice of a seventies singer known affectionately as the Walrus of Love swelled into the room.
“God, you’re using your warm-up move on me,” she said. He’d told her of the magical effect Barry White on auto-play had on women.
“Sorry,” he said. “I go with what works.”
“Try to stay fresh for me,” she said. “In honor of our friendship?”
“Deal.” He leaned in and she braced for a replay of last night’s kiss. Except he went for her neck with a soft, nuzzling motion. Mmm. Women love you to mess with their necks—another tidbit from Ross’s repertoire. It did feel good and her body started a slow melt until she remembered the woman Ross had dated whose leg twitched just like a dog’s when he hit a certain place. Kara burst out laughing.
Ross stopped, frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry. I just remembered Lorraine. Wasn’t she the one with the twitching leg?”
“Yeah, right. Focus, okay?”
“Sure. Sorry.”
“Let’s do something I know you’ll like.” He moved in for a kiss. It started like the Tuesday one, then got better. Everything inside her went soft and melty. She leaned in closer. Ross’s hands slid up to touch her breasts. Sooo good.
Then he started patting her chest. He broke off the kiss. “Is that one of those water bra thingies?”
“What if it is? Come on.” She went for his mouth again.
“You don’t need that fake thing. You have perfectly good breasts.”
“The darts are big on this blouse. I need some padding. Just ignore it.”
“Right,” he said. He shifted her body so she was lying on the sofa and he was half on top of her. Lovely, but she kept thinking this was just the next step in his usual mating ritual.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
“Is that a line?”
“Of course not. You are beautiful. Your contacts show off your eyes. Crystal-blue. Nice shape—kinda almond.”
“Thank you.” It was glorious to hear compliments like that from Ross. This situation had tremendous potential.
“Remember the time that guy licked your eyeball and swallowed the lens?” Ross said.
“Yeah,” she said. “Never date a man who still lives with his mother at age thirty. They get strange.”
“Enough talk. We’re losing momentum here,” he said.
“Right.” She pulled him down for a kiss.
“Mmm,” he murmured, “that’s what I’m talking about.”
She felt a momentary thrill, then she noticed a lump behind her head. She reached around and fished out transparent red bikini panties. She held them out. “Either you’ve got some explaining to do about your wardrobe or one of your ladies left a souvenir.”
He shrugged. “Suzee forgot, I guess.”
“How could she forget her underwear?”
“Ah, honey, I get them so hot they forget their own names.”
“Pul-eeze. You may be good, but, trust me, a woman knows where her underwear is at all times. She left this to mark her territory.”
“I don’t know…Suzee’s kind of scatterbrained.”
“I thought you didn’t date bimbos.”
“I don’t as a rule, but she can do the most amazing things with her tongue.”
“Could you stop raving about the sexual skills of other women? I feel like I’m being haunted by the ghosts of lovers past.”
He took the panties from her and tossed them over his shoulder. “Forget other women and their clothes. Let’s get you out of yours.” He slid his fingers under her blouse, but maybe because she was nervous or because he was Ross, his fingers stimulated her tickling reflex. She jerked away, giggling. “I’m ticklish there.”
“Oh, hell,” he said. “How about here?” He pushed his fingers higher.
“That’s okay, but…” She tried to hold it in, but laughter burst out.
“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“You got the tickle thing going. Let me get on top.”
“Somehow I knew you’d want that.”
She ignored the dig and wiggled out from under him, but missed the edge of the sofa and fell to the floor with a squeak, dragging him with her. “Ouch,” she said. “Your elbow’s in my boob.”
“Sorry. How can you feel a thing with that inner tube in there?”
“Cut it out.” She went for his ribs and he laughed and jerked away, so she tickled him in earnest. He returned the favor, and they were soon rolling on the floor laughing and tickling each other.
“This is hopeless,” Kara said, pulling herself to a sit.
“I’ve just begun to fight,” Ross said. He leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he moved his tongue in a way that reminded her of the eyeball licker and she laughed into his mouth.
“You’re giving me a definite case of shrinkage,” he said. “Lucky for me, I know I’m a stud.”
“Lucky for all the women on your speed-dial, you mean.” She grinned at him. He really was sweet and very sexy, with his longish dark hair tousled across his forehead. She touched his face. “This just feels too silly. Thanks for trying, Ross. You’re a good friend.”
He sighed with regret. “Too bad.” He slid his hand across her left breast. “I’d love to get under all that water.” He straightened her collar and patted it. “At least we worked some of the starch out of your blouse.”
“Yeah.”
“The kissing was nice, don’t you think?” He rubbed his thumb over her chin sensuously and with regret.
“Very,” she said. For a second, she wanted to go at it again, but she’d start giggling, no doubt. And it was a relief they wouldn’t be risking their friendship, ground rules notwithstanding. “I’m just going to have to meet somebody new to figure this stuff out. A stranger I could never fall in love with.” Even though it had fizzled, this preliminary trial showed her the potential of this approach. It could change her life for the better. It just wouldn’t work with Ross.
“How do you plan to do that?” Ross was looking at her intently.
“I’ll go to a bar, I guess.”
“Not a biker bar or anyplace rough. Because I can’t let you do that.”
“I’m not crazy,” she said, touched by his protectiveness. “I’ll just find somebody who’s like you. Someone not my type. A ship passing in the night. A musician. Or I could find a business traveler. Or a pilot.”
“Where will you go?” he pressed. “What bar?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the downtown Hyatt. Lots of pilots and flight attendants