“But you just said you two don’t share the same tastes in women?”
“She’s the type of woman who is whatever a man wants her to be – at first.” He looked down at his watch. “Can we not talk about Emma right now? Lunch is almost over. She puts a bad taste in my mouth.” He grimaced.
“Thank you, by the way.”
His eyebrows raised. “For what?”
She took a bite from her sandwich and swallowed, giving herself a moment to decide if she was going to finish the thought she had started. “For lunch. I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing you again. But I was hoping I would.” She lifted her gaze to meet his.
“I told you, you would. I don’t ever go back on my word. I was just hoping you’d be open to seeing me again.” Again, there was a sincere look in his eyes. It touched her. There were no games with him. No second guessing. She liked it… a lot.
“I am.”
He frowned, his eyes focusing intently on her lips. A tremor rocked through her and the desire to pull him into her and taste his lips was almost unbearable.
“You have a little something…”
Her frown matched his. What? Where? Embarrassed, she swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Why do I have to be such a damned sloppy eater? Can’t even eat a sandwich without making a fool out of myself?
He reached over to her, touched her cheek and brushed the side of her lip with his thumb. a faint smile touched his lips. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his hand. So nice.
“Is it gone?” She opened her eyes to see his blue eyes had flared up with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Almost.” He leaned into her, moving so slowly that the seconds it took for his lips to meet hers felt like an eternity.
She smiled as his lips touched hers and his aftershave teased her nose. He smelt so damned good; if he wrapped her into his arms, allowing her to take in the spicy smell, she’d happily remain there an eternity. While their kiss beside her car had been but a brief taste of what may be to come, this one wasn’t. He tugged gently at her lower lip with his teeth and lashed at her lips with the tip of his tongue. She grabbed the front of his uniform and pulled him closer, parting her lips, inviting him in.
He groaned low in his throat, kissing her with more passion. His energy and need flowed through her, igniting the yearning between her legs. The way his tongue danced with hers was unparalleled in skill and finesse and so natural.
When he pulled away from her, leaving her slightly lightheaded and yearning for more intimate contact, she had to force herself from pulling him back in. A part of her was thankful they were in a park and he had to go back to work. If they’d been somewhere secluded, she doubted she’d have had the strength to let him go.
She slowly opened her eyes to see him staring at her, a sexy grin on his face. She reached out to him, once more fingering the scar, wondering the story behind it. A story for next time perhaps?
“I gotta go back to work.” The reluctance in his voice echoed what she was feeling inside.
But with a sigh he rose to his feet and extended his hand to her.
She accepted his hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. “So, Officer Porter, I don’t suppose you could play hookey for the afternoon?” She knew he couldn’t but figured there was no harm in asking.
Graham laughed. “Nah, Dane would rat me out in a heartbeat.”
Shit. Dane. She needed to get this situation between the brothers sorted out and find out his intentions; it appeared Graham was making his interest perfectly clear to her. She may have been a one-time-only threesome girl, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to be the girl to come between the two men.
Chapter 9
Two Weeks After The Break-in – Genevieve “You could have just told me the news over the phone, Dane. Why make me come to Staten Island to give me the big reveal?” Genevieve shrugged off her black peacoat and passed it to Dane.
“Because if I did then I wouldn’t be able to make you my homemade spaghetti and meatballs.” Accepting the coat, he leaned over her shoulder and grabbed a hanger from the coat closet.
“You mean, homemade spaghetti sauce?”
He put the coat on the hanger. “It would be easier to hang up your coat you’d…” he motioned for her to step back.
A grin spread across her lips. “It would be. But I’m not going to.” She could have moved away as he reached around her, but didn’t. Having his muscular chest brush against her and getting the opportunity to bask in the aroma of his cologne made it too tempting to stay where she was.
He returned her grin, a brow cocked. “I can make you.”
“You can try,” she countered, placing her hands on her hips, a part of her really wanting him to do just that. His looked turned heated as his eyes locked to hers. Why she was provoking him she didn’t know. After her picnic date, she’d been on a couple more dates with Graham and thought she’d made her decision. But God help her, it was harder than she imagined to keep from tempting Dane. He was so much fun to tease.
“Is that another challenge?”
“Maybe.” Don’t start something that you can’t finish Genevieve, the voice at the back of her mind warned. She’d been on several dates with Graham already and each one made her more convinced he was the one.
Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her tight to his chest and lifted her out of the way while hanging the coat up in the closet. He didn’t release her straight away; he kept her locked in his arms for the span of several beats, until her heart began beating rapidly in anticipation. It looked like he was going to kiss her, but just when she thought he was going to make a move, he released her and stepped back.
She knew she shouldn’t be disappointed, that she should be relieved, but she wasn’t.
He cleared his throat. “Now back to the dinner. I mean, it’s from scratch, even the noodles.
All by my own hands.” Taking her hand, he led her through the townhouse to the back where the kitchen was located.
“Wow, I’m impressed. Did you learn from your mother?” Well before they entered the kitchen the delicious aroma of herbs and spices drifted to her nose, causing her stomach to grumble softly.
He paused, giving her a funny look, and then smiled. “Yeah. My mother is an amazing cook.
Really old school Italian. She hates packaged anything; if it can be broken down and made by hand that’s how it’s done in the house I grew up in.” He shrugged. “I usually don’t have time, but on special occasions I make the time.”