Austentatious

I looked over at him, hoping the hurt didn’t crack my smile, and realized he was still looking at me with raised brows. Oops.

“I guess you’re hoping for that kiss, huh?” I’d tucked half of my lower lip under my teeth and was squirming with nervous uncertainty.

“Right,” he confirmed with a smug smile as he settled back against the vinyl and crossed his arms over his chest.

“That was your motivation for such a grand gesture? A harmless little peck on the cheek from me?” I took a sip of water to cool the feverish flush that was running rampant over my skin.

“Come now, don’t sell yourself short.”

A bubble of laughter escaped me, but his expression didn’t change.

“All right. One kiss—you deserve it. I even liked your version better.” As his smile widened, I added, “Although, if Elvis himself had been serenading me, it might have been a different story.”

“His loss,” replied my charming date. He truly did deserve a kiss. Maybe I did too. So I leaned in and let my eyelashes flutter closed.

He stayed very still, so the placement of the kiss was at my discretion, and I decided to heed a lesson from the master. I very carefully touched my lips to the corner of his very talented and somewhat spicy mouth. Hints of the beer he’d had earlier mingled with the fiery pico de gallo and the tartness of the lime to give him an exotic taste, but beneath the subtle flavors, his lips were a long, smooth line that quirked into a smile well before my lips were willing to let go.

When I finally sat back, I couldn’t help but lick my lips. And I knew, even as I did, that it wasn’t the best idea. Sean was watching me, and as our gazes locked, I wondered how much he knew. I suspected he knew that I viewed this as a token kiss, imagining only one more—a good-bye kiss at the end of the evening—in our future. He likely also knew that deep down, beyond the protective layers of good sense and rational thinking, I wanted much more than one more kiss. What he might not have known was that I was willing to sacrifice supreme (but fleeting) enjoyment for the greater good ... for The Plan. I didn’t relish having to admit it.

With teeth-clenching effort, I shifted my eyes away just as Sean broke the silence.

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said, in a cheesy Elvis impersonation.

Not long after, as we stepped into the brisk evening air, it was my turn at cheesy. “Elvis has left the building.” We shared a smile.

Neither of us, it seemed, was through with the evening, so we found ourselves eating single scoops of ice cream outside in fifty-degree weather, amid fifteen-mile-an-hour gusts. It was insanity. But the really good kind.

Settled back against the well-worn slats of a wooden bench and propping his shoulder against mine, Sean was surprisingly, perhaps even moodily, silent, scooping up bites. I took my cue from him. He finished first, set his cup and spoon aside, and tucked me into the curve of his arm. Or at least he tried. I was proving a little difficult— think Han Solo frozen in carbonite, with a cup of ice cream in one motionless hand and a white plastic spoon in the other. I couldn’t help but wonder, what was the protocol here? A sensible girl finds herself in a far-from-sensible situation, and her date makes a move only minutes before the night—and the romance—must necessarily come to an end. And ... go!

“Do you ... want a bite?” I asked lamely, twirling my spoon slightly.

“Where?”

My girl parts suddenly started clamoring for attention.

I didn’t answer—I had no answer—and given the evening’s dynamic, I wasn’t sure an elbow to the stomach was appropriate, which is how I would have dealt with Gabe. At that point, in that position, I wasn’t even sure I could move my elbow.

“Oh,” Sean wondered aloud, “did you mean a bite of ice cream? I assumed not—isn’t sharing a spoon akin to double-dipping?”

Someday I was going to find my footing with this man, but right now, I was so out of my depth my ears were popping. Not to mention my eyes.

“You’re right. My fault. And since I don’t want you to think I’m a tease, I feel like I should offer you something, so where would you like your bite?”

Now his eyes popped. I smiled and scooped up another bite.

He let his thumb slide down the back of my neck, and this time my shiver had nothing to do with ice cream or the temperature. Turning to object to such cruel and unusual punishment, I was totally unprepared to be ambushed. But with only a few inches between us, there wasn’t time to object. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I had that much willpower.

His teeth—those perfect, straight white ones he’d been flashing since the beginning—settled gently into my lower lip for a playful little nip before his lips took their place.

I could feel myself melting slowly out of the carbonite and into him. Incompatibility shamelessly forgotten, I let myself sink into this really stellar kiss, let myself imagine the what-ifs ...

And that’s what did it.

I suddenly realized I had to stop while I still could.

We pulled away at exactly the same moment, and I reached my hand up to touch my lips, careful not to meet his eyes. I needed a distraction, a diversion, anything to avoid a second kiss and the complete annihilation of clear thinking. I didn’t think I could handle a second fall into a pool of mind-numbing lust and manage to surface coherent. I was struggling enough as it was.

“So ... ?” I said, not meeting his gaze. “How’d we get from a mushroom to this?”

His answer was immediate. “Through dumb luck, dogged pursuit, and winning charm. You’re so adorably in control, it just makes a bloke want to frazzle you. So here we are. Frazzled yet?”

I figured trying not to blush would be like trying to rein in all that Machiavellian charm, so I gave in to the inevitable, “Yeah, I’d say I’m well and truly frazzled. But I’m confident I’ll bounce right back.”

Then again, that could just be the bravado talking.

“Very sporting of you, Ms. James. And now, I have a question of my own.” I could feel the air between us shifting from silly to serious, and I tensed slightly in anticipation. “Just what exactly do you have against a man in a band?”

Whoa. Did not see that one coming. I supposed my choices were to lie outright or get pegged as a self- important clod.

Tell him the truth! my conscience demanded. Square hole, round peg, nothing personal.

I was poised to do it, but I felt my resolve weakening. I was already more than a little seduced and falling further and deeper under his spell. I could hear that little devil on my shoulder again ... Maybe I could stand to be a bit more flexible, a little more adventurous. It’s for a very sexy cause. I glanced at Sean, who was still waiting for my answer. Got lust, Nicola?

I gave my head a firm shake and started over. I could feel my pulse pounding out the passing seconds, but I couldn’t think through the storm of sensation. This should really be it—the moment of reckoning—but if I was really, painfully honest with myself, I could admit that I didn’t want this thing, whatever it was, to end.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, and this entire situation, in all its awkwardness, suddenly seemed undeniably, almost tragically funny. Thus Sean, waiting patiently for an answer, instead found himself faced with a maniacally giggling buffoon.

I sobered up quickly the second I realized that such a reaction might seem just slightly offensive, given our current situation and the question posed. And this time, I had no problem getting an answer off my tongue.

“Nothing. I have nothing against a man in a band.” I added a little dismissive shake of my head to punctuate. “I’m very impressed, and honestly, I’m thrilled for you. And flattered you took the time to stalk and bribe me.” The last, I have to admit, came off a little flirty.

“So you’d have no problem then saying yes to another date?”

“No. Yes,” I heard myself answering. “Yes to the date.” Fidgety with nerves, I stood and walked the few steps to toss away my trash. So much for sensible.

Sean followed, and the triumphant look on his face was very flattering indeed. “How about lunch tomorrow?”