Fools Rush In. Gwynne Forster
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him or put her hands near his shoulders, he’d have taken her mouth, the consequences be damned. And that didn’t make a shred of sense. He glanced up at Wayne Roundtree and his baby sister heading for the front door.
“You don’t want me to drive you home, Leah?”
“Wayne’s gonna drop me off on his way to Beaver Ridge.”
He didn’t suppose it was funny; nothing amused him right then. But he couldn’t help enjoying Wayne’s apparent discomfort—until the man reprimanded Banks, “I’m not dropping you off; I’m taking you home. You said you’d like that, and that’s what I’m doing.”
She was about to learn that Roundtrees didn’t let people jerk them around, and the lesson might do her some good. Still…Duncan ignored Wayne’s scowl. “If you want me to take you, Leah, it’s no sweat.” He didn’t laugh when Wayne glared at him, though maintaining a straight face took some mental discipline.
“What do you want?” Wayne asked her, his voice tinged with vexation and his stance just short of predatory.
Banks’s sheepish grin settled it for Duncan even before she said, “He can take me home.” Wayne Roundtree had her number, but it didn’t surprise him when she took care not to get too far out of character and added, “You trust him, don’t you, Duncan?”
A belly laugh rolled out of him. Trust his sister to squeeze the humor out of a situation. “Make him stick to the speed limit, Sis. Wayne drives like a bat out of hell.”
“I’ll open that door,” Wayne said when Banks reached the car.
She shifted her weight to her left foot and let fly with, “Something wrong with my hands?”
She resisted squirming when he stopped inches from her, looked down into her face and said, “No. The problem lies elsewhere. And that’s something you and I are going to get straight before I move this car.”
Tough, was he? “Hmmm. Maybe I’d better tell Duncan he has to take me home after all.”
His hand on her elbow said he meant business. Fine with her. “Leah, I don’t care for this constant stream of sarcasm and cynicism. I’m with you because I want to be, and I assume the same goes for you. But if you’d rather be somewhere else, say the word and we won’t start this. What’ll it be?”
She wished she could see his eyes a little better and figure out what he thought, and she’d give anything to know how to talk to him. She opened her mouth to tell him he couldn’t always have his likes, remembered how long and how badly she’d wanted to be with him, and said, instead, “Are you always so cut and dried?”
“Not usually, but your constant challenges bring out a side of me that I’m not familiar with. Think you can mellow a little?”
“I…I thought I was.”
He helped her into the sleek, maroon-colored Town Car, seated himself, and started the engine. “Do you want us to spend time together?”
Playing it safe, was he? She bristled. “Wayne, I’m not an authority on boy-girl behavior these days, but I think if you want us to see each other, you have to ask.”
He glanced her way briefly before accelerating onto the capital Beltway. “Okay. Okay. Will you spend time with me? I’d like to get to know you.”
He was asking her out. Everything inside of her started swimming, and she grasped her forehead as though to quell an attack of vertigo. Only air came out of her mouth when she parted her lips to speak.
“Well? You turning me down? I though you said you’d wanted to meet me. If I’ve bombed this fast with you, I’m in trouble.”
She grabbed her middle when he zipped into Route 270 and nearly panicked when words still wouldn’t come. In desperation, she placed a tentative hand on his knee and risked a gentle pat. The man had tied her into knots; she’d never been speechless in her life.
He glanced down at her hand resting on his knee. “What does that mean?”
“I…I think you’re nice, Wayne, and we can go out sometime.”
He rested his hand on hers. “On a steady basis?”
Just because the man was wonderful wasn’t a reason to chuck her common sense. “Well, let’s see if that’s what we want. Okay?”
“Works for me.”
They reached Frederick well before driving at the legal speed limit would have allowed. When Wayne parked in front of the white brick house at 75 North Teal, she breathed in sweet relief. “Thanks for the ride home. See you soon.”
He took her hand and walked toward the front door. “I assume you don’t live out here on Teal Street. Let me have your keys.” He unlocked the door with his free hand and walked with her into the darkened foyer. “I’m glad we met. Goodnight, Leah.”
She jerked her hand from his. “I told you not to call me—” His mouth warm and firm settled on hers and scrambled her brain, and she grabbed the lapels of his jacket to steady herself. She’d never felt anything like it. Shivers coursed through her body until she trembled in his arms.
He broke the kiss and gazed down at her as though in wonder. “Is there a guy in your life? Serious, I mean?”
She blinked her eyes. “Why’d you do that? You caught me off guard.”
She luxuriated in his grin, its warmth toasting her like midday sunshine on a deserted beach. “If I’d asked you, I’d never have gotten that kiss, and especially not one that honest. And I’m calling you Leah. Period. Get that?”
He was out of the door before she could tell him he’d be talking to the wind, because she’d refuse to answer him. She lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and made up for lost time.
Duncan told the last of his guests good night, extinguished the lights, and headed upstairs. The light shining beneath Justine’s door caused him some concern, and he left his bedroom door ajar so he could hear her if she called out to him. He stripped and slid into bed. Justine was across the hall from him, crying for all he knew, since she hadn’t come back downstairs, and he was helpless to do anything about it, because she hadn’t trusted him. Then there was Wayne Roundtree and his kid sister. Kid? She was twenty-seven. He hoped the man had sense enough to realize that she was a tenderfoot, that she hid her innocence behind her sharp tongue. He flipped over on his belly. He’d hate to flatten his boss, but he’d do it in a New York minute and wouldn’t think twice about it.
Across the hall, Justine struggled with her reaction to Duncan’s almost kiss. She had wanted it. She rolled over to untangle the sheet twisted around her body. Her unloved body. Behind closed eyelids she saw his lips moving toward hers, slowly. Teasing. Tantalizing her. She parted her lips for the taste of his hot velvet tongue and moaned in despair when it failed to penetrate her welcoming mouth. When her breasts began to ache for his stroking fingers, she swung out of bed, took off her gown and showered. She didn’t fool herself. Duncan wasn’t the only source of her discontent, nor could she attribute it to celibacy, for she’d never been fulfilled. The certainty that she’d never been loved, that her failure at lovemaking with her husband wasn’t her fault, had triggered in her a need to explore herself, to fly. Because Kenneth Montgomery hadn’t loved her, his heart hadn’t been in his lovemaking. She knew that now. And sleeping within fifteen feet of her every night was the epitome of temptation in the person of Duncan Banks, a good-looking, mesmerizing, and powerful hunk of a man who wanted her and whose lure beckoned her. Torment was right here on earth.
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