“In the book, we’ll use another word other than feelings for the male readers.”
“You know, straying from gentler emotions isn’t universal among men.”
“It will be for the men we’re trying to sell this book to.” And if he had to hear the word penis from her lips again, he’d have to resort to phoning this book in.
Change the subject. “Let’s get back to this smell thing. Why is it women are always wanting to smell flowers? I could care less.”
“Because that’s the wrong smell for a man. Believe it or not, the scents more attractive to men are food-related. There’s something to be said for that old saying about the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Pumpkin, for instance, elicits very strong responses from men. And the smell of doughnuts.”
“We can keep a running list of places for women to meet men. The pumpkin patch. The doughnut shop.”
“I can see you’re not taking this seriously. Let me do a demonstration.” She signaled the waitress. “Can we have some of those churros, please?”
If the waitress thought it strange Ava was asking for dessert before they’d even been served their entrées, she didn’t show it.
Ava returned her attention to him. “Have you eaten one of these? They’re delicious. Sugar and cinnamon. Mmm.”
The way she said mmm with such a level of carnal enjoyment made his stomach clench.
A moment later the waitress dropped off a platter of churros, as well as a basket of chips, salsa and queso.
“Cinnamon is another scent men respond to on a primal level. Plus the food has the added bonus of being somewhat phallic.” Her voice had turned husky, as if her very words aroused her.
She cleared her throat, her green eyes never leaving his.
“I think it’s most effective when a woman teases her face with the food a bit, running it along her chin. Her lips. Makes men think of a woman running her lips along his—”
Her words didn’t drift off. He cut them off in his mind. He knew exactly what seeing a woman with something like a churro, seeing Ava do with that churro, made him think. It made him think of her lips on his erection.
“The key is to keep the man in a steady state of semiarousal at all times.”
Semiarousal? He’d just gone from zero to performance status in about half a second.
She dropped the churro onto the platter. “You see? Food is one very important ingredient for sex. You show me a man whose mind doesn’t immediately turn to a blow job at the sight of a woman eating a banana or carrot— I’ll show you a man whose balls haven’t dropped yet.”
Or one who wasn’t into women. He turned to face Ava, whose expression was teasing. “Okay, you have a point,” he admitted, speaking around the lump in his throat.
She smiled, bit off the tip of the churro with gusto, then tipped it his way. “Bite?”
“No, thank you.”
The scent of cinnamon drifted back to him. Was that the food or the woman? And more importantly, was she wearing it on purpose?
“Food-sharing is also very erotic. The significance more than likely dates back to when humans were in survival mode. To share your food literally meant to share your life. Now, eating from your lover’s hand reveals an innate trust. All this academic talk, I’m not boring you am I?”
Hell, no. If the classes he’d taken in college had been half this interesting, he might have stayed to finish his degree. He shook his head.
“Good. Do you like churros, Ian?” her voice husky again and full of playful invitation. He nodded.
Once more, she tipped the food in his direction. “See how sexy, almost carnal it can be to eat from my hand? It’s especially effective if you’ve never kissed your partner.”
She used the food to trace his bottom lip. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do a thing.
“To have your lips touch where just moments ago hers had been. Her tongue, her saliva…it’s like sharing a passionate kiss. A prelude of more to come.”
He bit down on the food, tasting the sweetness. Tasting her. Satisfaction was light in the greenness of her eyes. And he felt as if he’d just bitten off more than he could chew…?.
CHAPTER SIX
KELSO. SO JEREMY HAD a last name. The Jeremy who should be in Oklahoma but was now apparently in her outer lobby. Miriam cleared her throat.
“Thanks, Rich. Give me about five minutes then send him in.”
Miriam stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. Ahh, if only smoothing out the wrinkles of her life could be so easy. She was avoiding this person. Had done an admirable job of keeping him from her mind. Mostly. Why’d he have to show up?
The covers on her wall mocked her.
The Mistake You’ll Always Regret
Forget Your Forbidden Fruit
Are You Replacing His Mother?
Miriam scowled at that last cover. Okay, she was being ridiculous. None of those headlines even had anything to do with dating younger men. There was no reason to panic. She was a grown woman, had responsibilities and lived up to her commitments.
So she’d had a one-night stand.
So her one-night stand had decided to show up unannounced. She could handle this. Handle it with style and grace and confidently explain to Jeremy that the one-night man did not linger. Long-distance relationship?
Shoot. Why’d her mind have to wander in that direction?
There were rules about long-distance relationships and she’d made sure of it. She flipped to the review copy of the article she’d recommended for The Rage. The sidebar had a few “quick-read” suggestions.Loving Your Long Distance and Keeping It that Way1. Don’t look for them to last.Okay, really no problem there.2. Make frequent-flier miles your best friend.She had some just itching to be used.3. Communicate clear expectations.
Obviously she’d already failed in that area, otherwise there wouldn’t be a twentysomething man waiting for her in the outer lobby.4. Be especially creative.
Actually, she and her twentysomething lover already had that down.5. Remember—the odds are not in your favor.
Yes, but when had they been?
All excellent points of policy.
There was a brief knock on the door, and then Rich efficiently ushered Jeremy into her office, quickly closing the door behind him. And there he was. Jeremy of the now-known last name. Jeremy Kelso, who could rock her world eight times in a night.
Her breath hitched, and her hands grew clammy. She was disgusted with herself. Miriam Cole was about to fall into the worst cliché, and she allowed herself to be mentally sucked back into the past.
Suddenly, she was on that nearly deserted, dusty-red highway in Oklahoma. Hot, tired and stranded. An old, beat-up truck had pulled up beside her.
For a moment she felt only sweet relief. She wouldn’t die out in the middle of nowhere. Then every article in her magazine ever written about women alone and out in the middle of nowhere flashed through her mind. A car, let alone a pickup truck, happening upon her was far worse than being out here by herself.
“Need some help?” asked the lone occupant after he slowed to a stop.
Miriam flashed him what she knew worked on the dating scene as the polite brush-off smile. “No, no. I’m fine.”
The man leaned across the seat, but his face was still hidden in the shadows. “I could give you a lift into town if you need it.”
Get into the car of a complete stranger? What did she look like, an idiot? This was exactly how people got abducted. Killed.
“Thanks, but no,” she told him firmly as she reached for her phone. Cell phones were excellent man-conversation blockers in the dating world. Surely it would serve the same function now.