“The chilies get your circulation going. I was thinking we could include recipes that had a lot of aphrodisiacal properties. There are several that don’t have long accompanying stories, but would be fun to include.”
Yeah, he’d like to hear what this woman’s idea of fun was. “Like what?” he asked.
“Celery. Good for all your muscles. Did you know that the ancient Tragrils actually devoted celery to their god of sex and of hell?”
He felt the irony.
“Sex is all around us, has been from the very beginnings of culture.” Ava shrugged. “You could probably point at anything in this restaurant and we can relate it somehow to sex.”
This he’d like to see. “How about that guacamole you’ve devoured?” he suggested, indicating the now-empty serving dish.
Ava sat back against her chair as if in thought. “Guacamole is made from avocados. Which is also the Aztec word for a certain part of the male anatomy.”
“This restaurant.”
“Sometimes in Mexico, a rope is placed around the neck of the bride and groom. Physical binding of a newly married couple is quite common in many cultures.”
He was kind of liking this naughtier version of the six-degrees-of-separation game. Ava was right—she didn’t have to go too far for her examples. Ian picked up his knife to cut off another bite of enchilada.
“This knife,” he suggested.
“Oh, that’s easy. In Nordic history, when a father had a marriageable daughter, he’d place an empty knife sheath on her belt or around her waist. Interested suitors would place their knife in the empty case. That evokes all kinds of images, doesn’t it?”
It certainly did. Ian leaned forward. “How about you, Dr. Simms?”
A tiny smile tugged at her top lip. “Women with Ph.D.s are twice as likely to have a one-night stand as those with a B.A.”
Which made him wonder about Doctor Simms.
That’s when it hit him. The humor, the passion, the respect she had for all these people she’d met and cultures she’d studied…none of that was in her book. It was dry and dull.
Which she clearly was not.
Her passion, her personality, Ava…that’s what would sell this book. Every word, every image had to evoke the enthusiasm and excitement and utter zest that was Ava.
This wasn’t going to be just reviewing her notes and taking a few pictures…he’d need to spend real time with her. Earlier he couldn’t wait to get out of this assignment. He’d been restless to set off again, to do his own story, live life on the edge as he wanted.
But now something was different. That edgy impatient restlessness led him to Ava, which led him to wanting to stay. And that was the first thing that had ever scared him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IAN PAID FOR DINNER. It had been a struggle knowing what to do. He’d run across some women in the past who’d felt it was insulting for a man to pay for their meal. Unlike his mother, who’d raised him to believe men paid for everything. That, in fact, all men should pay.
Ava just seemed to be clueless about what to do when the check arrived. Something he found oddly…endearing. She nodded to herself when he placed his credit card on the bill, as if mentally making notes of his actions.
Now they were walking back to her warehouse apartment. The foot traffic along the canal had increased so their pace slowed. He wasn’t much for leisurely strolls, but Ava was definitely the kind who stopped and smelled the flowers. And she could probably tell him some new tormenting fact about how women strung them together to frame their nipples, or rubbed the blooms along a man’s…
What the hell was happening to him? Sure, he’d been covering some out-of-control stories for a while and it had been a long time since he’d been in the company of the opposite sex, but his physical reaction toward Ava was unlike anything he’d experienced before. It was as if every word from her kissable lips and every stretch of her sensuous body was specifically designed to make him think of nothing but stroking her lips with his. Caressing her skin. Palming her breasts. Making love to her fast. Or slow. Whatever. However. Just as long as the action between the sheets lasted for hours.
That’s when it hit him. It was all designed. Her every move. Her every supposedly subtle, yet utterly sensual maneuver had been intended to keep his mind on one thing and one thing only. Sex. Not that it was a hard task, but to have his easily led thoughts manipulated in that direction… He stopped walking and just stared at her. He was irritated and impressed all at the same time.
Ava stopped and turned around to look at him. “Everything okay?” she asked, the scent of cinnamon slyly hitting his nose as her hair swirled around her head.
“You’re using the book stuff on me.”
She crooked an eyebrow. “Is that what I’m doing?” she asked, her voice innocent. Her eyes…nothing close.
He shook his head ruefully. Knowing she’d played him for the past hour didn’t detract from how sexy she was. How sexy he found her.
“Was it working?” she asked, her tones now sensual and low. And his body responded once again.
“No,” he told her.
Her lips curved into a smile. “Good,” she said with a nod. “That was only level-one stuff anyway. I’ll just have to ramp it up some.”
Hell, he was going to die.
JEREMY LOOKED AROUND her office and whistled. “You didn’t tell me you were in charge. Impressive.”
Yeah, well, there isn’t a lot of talking involved when a man’s tongue is in your mouth.
Miriam schooled her features to look cool and professional. “What a surprise to see you here, Jeremy.”
He quickly shifted his glance her way, the smile on his face fading. “But not a good surprise, huh?” he asked, his disappointment obvious in his voice.
He caught on fast. Not so surprising since he’d so easily interpreted her every quick intake of breath or delicious sigh in bed and understood exactly what she wanted.
She moved so that she sat behind her desk. She needed that barrier between them. “I wasn’t expecting to see you ever again.”
Now all traces of that sexy open smile of his vanished. “That was pretty obvious by the way you left the next morning without a trace.”
She would ignore the hurt she saw in his eyes. Get this over quickly. No need to prolong anything. “Then why are you here?” she asked.
He slowly moved toward her desk, drawing her eyes to his tall lean body. She’d stroked and kissed every part of that provocative body of his. Earlier she’d chalked up her momentary loss of judgment where Jeremy was concerned to the strange situation.
She had been on vacation.
She’d been stranded.
He’d played the role of knight coming to her rescue.
Of course she’d fallen into his arms. She could still feel the heat of him as he’d brought her a drink in the town’s garage. He’d made her laugh because he’d placed a straw in one of those fluid-replenishing sports drinks.
“Thought you might be thirsty,” he’d said. And she was. Oh, she’d been thirsty for just what Jeremy had to give. He’d sat with her the whole time the mechanics worked on her car.
Listened to her and laughed at her stories over dinner.
He’d offered to walk her to the door of her hotel room. Just to make sure she was safe. She was only going to thank him and wish him good-night. But she’d been hungry to know what his lips tasted like.
In fact, she was still hungry and still thirsty. Her breath shallowed. Her heartbeat quickened.
“Thought by now you might have changed your mind about seeing me again,” he said. His voice was a sensual caress against her skin. Just a hint of an accent. His blue eyes willed her to rethink her decision to not see him again.
Of course she’d changed her mind. She’d gone back and forth about ten thousand times.