She kept bringing up the topic of first-time lovers, which always brought the prospect of the two of them being first-time lovers.
Ava reached for a vial beside her. “This is ylang-ylang. That means wilderness, and is used as a true aphrodisiac in the South Pacific.” She rubbed a small drop of it on the crease of her elbow.
“Every aroma takes on a whole different personality when on the skin. It mixes with our own natural scents and musks and creates something totally unique.” She shifted toward him. “Smell.”
He’d kissed this woman. Stroked her skin, cupped her breast, but there was something about lowering his head to breathe in the scent of her that was wholly intimate and erotic.
Ian wasn’t up on his scents. He couldn’t tell you the difference between jasmine and lavender, but he could say that what Ava rubbed on her skin made him think of nothing but raw lovemaking.
A slow smile curved her full lips. “Powerful, isn’t it? Ylang-ylang boosts the attraction between a man and a woman. Enhances energy and open-mindedness.”
His imagination sure wasn’t having any trouble. Right now his mind was coming up with all kinds of energetic scenarios from pushing Ava back against that pillow to—
“Vanilla is particularly attractive to women.” She reached for a brown bottle. “This is pure vanilla extract that you can find in any grocery store. Not good to taste, but if you were to put some on your neck, I would keep getting closer and closer to you as the evening progressed.”
And here he’d been wasting all this money on expensive colognes.
“So do you think this will work for the book?”
All Ian could do was nod.
MIRIAM WATCHED AS JEREMY stretched in her bed, the sheets twisting around his flat stomach. She’d taken the day off. In fact she’d taken two. Unheard of. Now she was lazing around in bed past noon. What was with her?
Jeremy. His kiss. His hands on her body. His mouth on her skin. He was sexy, funny and…
And young.
She’d ask herself what did she think she was doing, but the tenderness of her breasts and the achiness between her thighs was a pretty good reminder.
She’d never been with anyone younger than her. Not even by a month. She didn’t need to consult Dr. Freud to know it stemmed from watching her father date women who were less than his age. First five years. Then seven. Finally fifteen.
Damn, was she using Jeremy? Using him to make her feel good about getting older? About gravity? About a lot of things? Was she that far off from her father?
Jeremy rolled over, reaching for her in the dark. Grasping her breast. He smiled in his sleep as her nipple hardened against his palm. That wasn’t the only thing hardening.
Even half-awake, he’d explored the terrain of her body with ease. His mouth had sought the sweet spot below her ear where she loved to have him kiss. Lick.
The way he made love to her was beautiful. The way he made her feel, amazing. She didn’t want anything ugly between them. Anything that remotely resembled the kind of relationships her father had had with his younger women.
“Jeremy?” she whispered. If he didn’t wake up, she could postpone this little conversation until morning.
He lifted his head. He smiled at her sleepily. “Is something wrong?” he asked, automatically reaching to comfort her.
She scooted away from him, as if she didn’t quite trust herself to get through this without dropping the whole subject so she could make love with him instead.
Okay, here it goes. “What do you see happening here?”
Jeremy nodded, as if he’d suspected this would occur. The mattress squeaked as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“A guy driving halfway across the country doesn’t exactly speak one-night stand,” she said quickly.
“The way you hightailed it out of my hotel room back home tells me you aren’t looking for anything long-term.” His tone had changed. Slightly negative.
Why should she be surprised? They’d shared a weekend of no-strings sex. Weren’t twentysomething men supposed to be into that? And bonus, she’d left him before there could be any weird, awkward parting moments. There’d been no faux “Let’s keep in touch” or uncomfortable hug. Leaving that way had done them both a favor. Right?
“It was best that way,” she said quietly, dropping his gaze.
“For you?” But he wouldn’t let her block him out. He reached for her hands, his body on edge. “Miriam, I was worried sick. I didn’t even know if you’d made it home safely.”
Something warm and gooey formed around her heart at his words. Yuck. She was a grown woman. Ran a business. She could take care of herself.
And yet, that yucky gooey feeling wasn’t all that bad. It was kind of nice to think someone cared whether or not she was stranded by the side of the road. She couldn’t help it. She smiled.
“I never thought you’d worry about me.”
Some of the tension he’d carried in his shoulders relaxed. His lips turned up in a smile. “Well, I did.” His gaze captured hers for a moment, and he swallowed.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Wondering what you were doing. When I forgot about the blind date my sister had set up, I knew I had to figure out what was going on between us. I’d never stand up another person. I felt terrible.”
Miriam didn’t. The idea of him being with another woman made her stomach clench, and she’d never been the jealous type. Not once. She’d read enough articles in her magazine to know jealousy was not a productive emotion. But then she’d never been so attuned to a man’s every movement as she had been that weekend. And still was, based on their latest performance between the sheets.
“So, this trip is to get me out of your system?”
“The timing was right to see what we have. I’m between jobs right now.”
Yes, of course he was. Dad’s women never seemed to keep a job for long.
His hand settled on her thigh, sending shivers along her skin, and the fact that he didn’t have a job wasn’t such an issue at the moment.
“But given the last two days, it might take a long, long time before I get you out of my system.” His hands cupped her hips and he lifted her to straddle him. He was already hard and ready for her, and her nipples tightened in anticipation of his touch. Jeremy was a breast man.
His fingers slid into her hair, and he gently drew her head toward him. “This can be whatever we want it to be,” he whispered against her mouth.
TONIGHT IAN WAS TAKING her on a date. With him and nineteen other men. They were going on something called a speed date. Once again she had researched what she should wear, but the predominant answer was “business casual,” and that was even more difficult to fathom than going out to a nightclub.
Finally she opted for a black calf-length skirt with a bit of a kick pleat at the bottom. Her top was a salmon-colored scoop-neck blouse with a business jacket in case she got cold.
She did a quick turn for Ian when she met him outside the Bricktown restaurant where the event would be held. “How do I look?”
“My sister would approve.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “But you don’t.”
“Maybe I prefer paint.”
Her skin flushed as she remembered the way she’d first presented herself to Ian. He’d liked what he’d seen and she reveled in it now. Suddenly she didn’t want to “date” anyone. Even if it were for seven minutes at a time.
Right now she just wanted to get to know Ian better. Away from her book. Away from customs. Just the way normal North American men and women met one another.
Unfortunately, speed dating seemed to be the way they did it. What a strange social rite. “How did this whole system develop?” she asked as he opened the door for her.