‘Question. Do I get to pick you up or shall we meet at the restaurant?’
Pained embarrassment flashed across her face and he wanted to kick himself for what was an obvious question at this stage. One sexy encounter, which hadn’t gone all that well, didn’t amount to establishing trust.
‘Never mind, Bridget.’ He cut her off before she could speak, and smiled to take away any remaining embarrassment she might feel. ‘I’ll text you the name of the restaurant once I’m sure I can get reservations. OK?’
She smiled and nodded. Leaning in, he dropped a quick, sweet kiss on her lips, refraining from taking it any further. He’d pushed her enough for one day.
‘Do you want to follow me back to town?’
She shook her head and started her car, ‘No. I have to stop by my office for a little while. I’ll just see you tomorrow.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ He made to step back but she grabbed his arm.
‘Thank you.’ Her green eyes burned with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. ‘For everything.’
Rather than cheapen the sentiment with inadequate words, he simply nodded, kissed her one last time, and stepped back, watching her until she rounded the curve of the drive and disappeared from sight.
Bridget watched Connor fade from view in her mirror and contemplated the danger she was in. She hadn’t lied. He hadn’t done anything wrong. The problem was her. She’d come too close to losing herself with him.
Something about that man ate at her self-control. His mouth on her body had been delicious and she’d wanted so much more. Too much. The ache he’d created had burrowed in deep and low and she’d wanted him rougher, wilder. Dammit, she’d almost demanded he bite her.
She couldn’t allow herself to go there.
Impotent fury washed through her and she pounded the steering wheel. This wasn’t fair! She was a good woman. She went out of her way to be. She’d never asked for this!
As if in answer to her question, the memories rose up suffocating her. Quickly, she pulled to the side of the road and fought the smothering sensation overtaking her
She wasn’t having this. Not here. Not now.
Gripping the steering wheel as if her life depended on it, she concentrated on taking deep, full breaths until her head cleared and she could once again focus.
Forcing the memories away, she threw the car into gear, and drove on without another glance backward.
Chapter Ten
‘Thanks for a great meeting, everyone!’ Jean, the group moderator, grinned and enthusiastically clapped her hands. ‘Evan has provided some refreshments for us all. Same time next week, and we’ll be reading Sandra Brown’s
Bridget, Claire, and Mona grabbed cookies and coffee then headed over to the leather club chairs surrounding a low wooden coffee table in the centre of the bookshop. The rest of the group mingled and browsed through the store, taking their treats with them and grabbing up their selections before heading out into late evening.
Evan, Claire’s husband, always made sure to get this area back together for them since they had started making a habit of hanging out well after the book club ended. She and Claire had met and grown close through this club over the last year and they rarely missed a meeting. About six months before, Bridget had finally dragged Mona to one and she’d become a regular, joining both the club meeting and their little duet. The three of them had become extremely close over the months and she counted both of them as her two closest friends.
While she waited, Bridget contemplated the text she’d just received for what had to be the 50th time.
He wanted her to come to his house for dinner. She wasn’t sure she was ready to go there with him. Public places were safe. Well, safer at any rate.
‘OK, miss, spill,’ Claire said as they settled into their chairs. Mona took the opposite seat, gazing at Bridget with clear concern.
Bridget nearly spit out the coffee she was sipping at the complete non sequitur. ‘What are you talking about?’
Claire raised an eyebrow before continuing. ‘Don’t play innocent with me.’ She set her water and cookies on the table. ‘You’ve been fidgeting all night. If you’d shifted position one more time I was going to take you in the back and demand an explanation.’ She leaned back and, crossing her legs, levelled her hazel eyes on Bridget. ‘Jean could barely get your attention when she was asking your take on Christian Grey’s character and you didn’t join in unless specifically asked. Not. Like. You. M’dear.’ Each word was punctuated with a shake of her finger.
Claire was right. She’d been unable to concentrate on the discussion of
She was not herself when it came to him. Bridget was a very controlled woman. She knew who she was and she operated by a set of rules. One of which was that she did not go chasing down men. Another was that she did not have spontaneous sexual encounters with men she barely knew. She’d broken both of those rules with Connor.
When she’d seen him on campus she’d reacted just as strongly as she had on the jogging trail. She’d just taken off after him. She hadn’t even thought about what she was doing. All she knew was that she wanted to get to him. But when she was finally standing in front of him, she’d been at a complete loss. He’d been ogling her breasts, but worst of all she’d wanted him to.
She’d been tempted to preen and arch, run a finger down the collar of her blouse and watch his eyes follow it. She’d been breathless under his perusal, feeling heat every place his eyes touched. She didn’t approve of her wanton reactions to him. It was out of character and, frankly, it bothered her deeply.
And him! He hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that he was blatantly eyeing her. He’d admitted it and been completely unapologetic. He’d been laughing at her, playing on her sympathies for having caused him damage. Dang it, she wasn’t even sure if she
That had been a shock. She didn’t invite strangers out. Period. The men she’d dated in her life had all been friends of friends, or people she got to know over time before they began dating. She’d never gone out with a stranger in her life, let alone been so bold as to ask a man out. This may be the 21st century, but Bridget had been raised with old world sensibilities. Her mother had drilled into her head that only loose women with no morals pursued a man.
For herself, Bridget felt it was perfectly OK for a woman to ask a man out and to take the lead if that’s what she wanted to do. It just wasn’t something she did. In fact, not since high school had she been so taken with a man that she felt the desire to pursue him.
And that picnic. Hell’s bells! She still went hot at the memory of what they’d done. What she’d done, more specifically. She’d rutted over him like an animal in heat and had loved every single minute of it. Too dang much. She’d almost lost control.
That, more than anything, scared her. She was in completely unknown territory with this man. What if she was reading him wrong? What if he was just better at manipulating her? What if she was setting herself up because she wanted to see something there that wasn’t there? What if –
‘Nothing! Seriously.’ Taking a steadying breath, Bridget said, ‘He wants me to come over for dinner rather
