Overheated

“I sure hope so.” She gave a hard sigh and dropped her head back against Larry’s arm.

“Do we have time for a kiss?” he asked.

“Yes!” She straightened and turned to pucker. “Do it now. Quick. Before anything else can get in the way.”

His hand slipped behind her head, fingers twining in her hair. “I was hoping for slow, but if that’s not going to happen-”

And then his lips were on hers, harder than earlier, firm, confident and demanding. With his free hand, he tugged her up close.

His mouth was a fiery combination of moisture, suction, movement and exquisite taste. Her arms snaked around his neck, while her body hummed with fiery sensation. One kiss turned to two, then three, then four.

Finally, Larry grasped her upper arms, and set her away. “You have to go,” he gasped, while she struggled to catch her breath.

“Uh…” She tried, temporarily unable to form words.

“To Amber’s,” he reminded her.

Crystal nodded. “Right.” She hadn’t exactly forgotten.

But neither of them moved.

He dipped his head forward again, then stopped short before kissing her, muttering a pithy curse under his breath. “Come to Dover,” he said. “This weekend.”

The invitation shocked Crystal speechless.

“Separate rooms,” he rushed on. “No expectations. We can take in the race, maybe drive to the coast. Zane will be out of the way, so you won’t have any babysitting duties.”

Crystal hesitated. Great as it sounded, her current financial circumstance didn’t allow for impulsive weekend getaways. It was embarrassing, but she owed it to him to be honest. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t interested.

“I really can’t afford-”

He frowned. “Not this again. You’d be my guest.”

Oh, no. Not happening. She shook her head. Dinner was one thing, but she wasn’t letting him pay for her hotel.

“I wish you’d stop insulting me by trying to pay,” he said.

“I can’t let you pay for my weekend.”

“Give me one good reason why not?”

“We’re not dating.”

“We just had dinner and a kiss. What’s not dating about that?”

“You know what I mean,” she elaborated. “We’re not…dating.”

“So you’re saying, if I pay for your hotel room, I should expect you to have sex with me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She didn’t put out simply because a man dropped a few bucks. If that was the case, she’d have had a dozen lovers by now.

“Because that’s where you’re logic’s leading,” said Larry.

“My logic is leading to me paying for my own hotel room,” she argued.

His voice turned authoritative. “Well, you can’t. Because you’re not willing to use Simon’s money. Which I admire, by the way. And, I’d rather you didn’t in this instance anyway. But that only leaves us with me paying. Which is what I want to do anyway, and you’re simply going to have to live with it.”

“That’s some very convoluted, circular logic you got going there, Professor.”

“I’m desperate.”

She struggled not to smile at his expression.

“Say yes,” he pressed. “And I’ll go back to my regular, linear self.”

Crystal hesitated. A weekend in Dover. Separate rooms. Nothing but fun and relaxation for two whole days.

What was to stop her, really?

Wait a minute. There was something stopping her. “I can’t leave Rufus.” It’s not like she could ask her mother to take care of him.

“Bring him along,” said Larry

That offer surprised her. The kids were one thing. “You don’t mind if I bring the dog?”

“Why not? I’ll find an inn that allows pets. And he can stay at one of the Grosso motor homes at the track.”

Crystal turned the idea over in her mind. “What about the plane?” Surely they weren’t going to drive five hundred miles to Dover.

“We’ll rent him a crate for the plane. It’s only an hour.”

“This is crazy,” she felt compelled to interject.

His lips curved up in a slow grin. “Isn’t it? It’s not at all like me. Is it anything like you?”

“It’s exactly like me,” she admitted. That’s why she was still living above her parents’ business, with no money, a half-written cookbook anthology and a big, old stray dog.

He grasped her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Then, let’s do it.”

There was something about his expression that called to her and something about his tone that was infectious.

She glanced to Rufus who had found his spot on the mat. “What do you say, boy? You up for a getaway weekend?”

Rufus blinked his dark-brown eyes up at them and gave a wide, toothy yawn.

“That was a yes,” said Larry, with conviction.

Crystal couldn’t help but laugh.

His grip tightened on her hands, and his expression turned serious. “Say yes.”

She took a bracing breath. “Yes.”

ON DELAWARE BAY, FORTY-FIVE minutes from the track at Dover, Larry pulled into the driveway of a two- story Cape Cod-style house.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said, nodding toward the house. “I thought Rufus would like this better than a motel room.” Larry killed the engine on the SUV they’d rented at the airport, and the air-conditioning switched off.

Crystal gazed in awe at the wide front porch, two stately, white-sided stories, and the profusion of begonias against an emerald-green lawn. Bright flower pots decorated a winding, stone walkway that led from the driveway to the front staircase. The ocean was visible beyond, between the widely spaced houses on the quiet street.

“Three bedrooms and four bathrooms,” said Larry. “So, you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“It’s magnificent,” Crystal breathed.

He grinned. “It belongs to a friend of Milo’s, my grandfather. It fronts onto the beach. The kitchen is fully equipped. But, don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to cook.”

“I can cook,” she offered. “At least that would be some kind of a contribution to the weekend.”

He opened the driver’s door, letting in the salt tang and the humid, ninety-degree heat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She followed suit, stepping onto the warm concrete driveway, while extracting her overnight bag from behind the seat. “I’ll have you know I’ve tested every one of the recipes in my book,” she told him. “Bring me a bucket of clams, baby, and I’ll show you what chowder is.”

He stared at her over the top of the vehicle. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Enjoying ourselves.”

“I enjoy cooking.”

“You’ll enjoy Delveccio’s more.” Larry ambled toward the rear door to liberate Rufus. “Fine wine, local specialties, international flare. The man was trained in Paris.”

“We can buy fine wine at the corner store.”

“Not the 1992 Le Comte Bordeaux.”

“Larry.” She sighed in frustration.

He glanced up. “What?”