Truly, Madly, Deeply. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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groaned. “I’ve screwed it up. Now you won’t consider the franchise because all you’ll be able to think about is that I asked you to have sex with me. But I couldn’t lie to you, Erica. I respect you too much for that.”
She took several deep breaths and tried to calm her racing heart. Dustin wanted to franchise her newsletter, but he also wanted to give her an orgasm. He hadn’t said it quite like that, but that’s what he meant. She was still trying to process the idea that he’d worried about their less-than-wonderful night for all these years and had taken the responsibility for that failure.
That said so much about him. She’d blamed her inexperience, but he hadn’t. And now he wanted to show her that he’d improved. Amazing that he’d even care about her opinion. Even more amazing that his own self-image seemed to depend on getting it right with her. She’d never possessed such power over a man in her life.
She would handle it carefully. “If we…had sex, assuming we’d both be better at it this time, what would that achieve?”
He gazed at her for several seconds. “Every time I think of you, I remember that night and cringe. I want to fix that.”
“You make it sound like a loose wheel on one of your race cars.”
“You’re kidding, but that’s not such a bad way to describe the feeling I have.”
She still had trouble comprehending that their silly little experience had affected him this much. “You can’t simply forget it?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. It probably doesn’t bother you at all, but it’s been driving me nuts for years.”
What a concept. She loved it. “Okay, I’ll admit that it bothers me a little, too.” She wasn’t ready to say that it had haunted her for ten years. She hadn’t allowed herself to think that way.
“See? It’ll always be an obstacle between us unless we do something to change it.” He glanced down at the carpet. “I shouldn’t have avoided you like I did after that night, but I was only eighteen and…mortally embarrassed about the lousy sex.”
“That’s why you didn’t call me?” She thought of the weeks of misery she’d endured. “Embarrassment?”
He looked up at her again and nodded. “Sorry.”
“I thought once you’d scored, you weren’t interested anymore!” And she still wasn’t convinced that hadn’t been a part of it. Maybe he was revising history to suit his current predicament.
“Then you must have a pretty rotten opinion of me. I suppose you classify me with the guys your readers write about, like the one who wouldn’t take time to satisfy Frustrated Franny.”
Her body grew warm and restless. “I see you noticed what was on my computer screen.”
“I couldn’t help being curious. Do you see a lot of that? Guys who aren’t willing to give as good as they get?”
The topic was making her squirm in her chair as she fought down her body’s response. “A fair amount. First women have to realize they’re entitled to good sex, and then they have to educate the guy. It’s an evolving situation, but I think the word’s getting out.”
“Thanks to people like you.” His blue gaze grew more intent. “Don’t you think helping couples find greater sexual satisfaction is important?”
“The column’s only a small part of the newsletter.” She couldn’t seem to stop staring into his eyes, eyes that made her feel sexually alive. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. “Mostly it’s about restaurants, nightclubs, date-worthy attractions around the city.”
“And why do you suppose the newsletter is so popular? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not because of the date-worthy attractions, although I’m sure you provide a good service there, too.”
“Well, I’m sure people like the column, but—”
“Listen, I have two racing buddies who subscribe to Dateline: Dallas. They might tell everybody else it’s for the restaurant reviews, but they admitted to me that the first thing they read is your column. Guys don’t like to be obvious about picking up sexual information, so this is a way to do it on the sly. You tell one reader how to help her guy last longer, and a hundred guys will make a greater effort to do that.”
And if they kept up this discussion, she was liable to throw herself at him and beg for that do-over. He’d already promised to give her satisfaction.
She cleared her throat. “I think we’re getting off track.”
“Not really. You’ve spent ten years thinking I’m the kind of coldhearted guy who would take what I wanted and dump you. We can’t renew our friendship if that’s what you think of me. I need to clear up that impression.”
“I could simply take your word for it.”
He shook his head slowly and smiled. “What happened between you and me was physical. It’ll take a physical act to override our memory of it.”
Oh, boy, she was ready for that physical act. Fortunately her brain was still in gear. “Dustin, this is insane.”
“Why?”
“With all those expectations, sex between us would be a disaster.”
His smile broadened. “When it comes to physical challenges, I perform well under pressure.”
Her nerve endings hummed. “I can’t imagine how we could relax and enjoy ourselves, knowing that this was some sort of test, each of us trying to outperform the other.”
“You’d be trying to outperform me?”
Now there was a stupid slip. “Well, no, of course not.” Being around a jock must be awakening her competitive urges.
“Tell you what. Let’s go have lunch and you can think it over.”
“I have thought it over, and I think it’s crazy.”
He stood. “Think some more. In the meantime, I’m starving. All I’ve had to eat since five this morning is one Fig Newman.”
SEATED IN A SECLUDED little West End restaurant booth across from Erica, Dustin ate barbecue and Erica munched on a veggie sandwich. She’d told him that reviewing required her to taste a variety of things, so she’d eaten off his plate, too. She preferred the veggie sandwich.
He and Erica were different. He’d shrivel up and die on a diet of sprouts and tofu, while that was her favorite. She only ate meat because she had to, for the restaurant review. Although he didn’t always understand or agree with her preferences, he admired her convictions. He always had. In fact, he enjoyed playing Texas good ol’ boy, just to get her on a soapbox.
When she’d ordered a local microbrew made from organic grain, he’d deliberately asked for a Bud. At the moment, she was trying to convince him to invest Ramsey money in the microbrewery. He liked the idea of making a profit on beer, but he had his doubts about the organic part, which jacked up the price considerably.
She was persuasive, though, and he loved the passionate way she argued a point. The more time he spent with her, the more he became convinced that he’d done exactly the right thing by seeking her out. When they’d hooked up in chemistry class, she’d been the first girl to treat him as if he had potential to succeed at something besides football. Up until then, his ambitions hadn’t stretched much beyond winning chugalug contests and the state football championship.
But then he’d pushed his luck and taken her for a drive in the country. After that dismal failure he’d avoided Erica, which resulted in a return to his old lazy mental habits. Now his only option was to retrace his steps, get on a better footing with Erica and move forward from there.
She really was good for him. He’d like to believe he could be good for her, too. With her initiative, she could reap benefits from