Page 31 of Doctor Holliday
“What do you have in mind?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.
Keaton smiled and let a heavy, sexy silence grow between them before finally answering, “Spade.”
“Yeah?” She pressed her lips together. “Clubbing? Ruby says you can’t dance.”
“I don’t whip or nay-nay,” he answered, “And I don’t wobble. But I know how to hold a woman.” Her eyes sparked with desire. “On the dance floor.”
“I would love that,” she answered with a nod. “But I’d kind of like to see you whip and nay-nay.”
He laughed as he pulled his credit card from his wallet and put it in the leather folder with the dinner check.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I have a confession to make.” She spoke so softly, Keaton wasn’t sure he heard her right. But the look on her face was still flirty, still suggestive. Whatever she was about to say, Keaton didn’t think he would mind it a bit.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Sounds like it might be a good one.”
She laughed but turned her head away when their waiter approached the table for the check and Keaton’s card.
“Does it have anything to do with what you might be wearing under that dress?”
Lucy licked her lips and shook her head, but her eyes were bright with amusement. Happiness. Keaton was certain the woman was made for him. He loved everything about her.
All the more reason not to screw things up.
“Callie,” she smacked her lips together, “let me know I don’t have to come home tonight.”
Fuck if he could control the raging hard-on her words, the implication, created. Eyes locked with hers, he simply reached over the table and caressed the back of her hand with his fingertips.
When the waiter returned with his copy of the check, Keaton tucked his credit card away, stood, and pulled Lucy’s chair back for her. She had worn a coat tonight, thankfully, but she had chosen to check it when they arrived at The Harbourview. Keaton’s dick still wanted to play cowboy and pitch a tent in his trousers as he helped her shrug the long camel-colored wool coat over her shoulders.
They held hands as they left the restaurant and headed for his truck.
“I’m sorry you have to ride around in this old truck,” he told her as they reached it. “You deserve a limousine.”
“Nah.” She shook her head. “No need for that.”
She was in his arms before he knew either of them had moved. Her hands smoothed over his sport coat and into the back of his hair, her lips hungry over his. Keaton returned the kiss with the same greed, if not more. Pressed as tight as she was to him, there was no way she could mistake his arousal for anything other than what it was.
“I want that,” she whispered as she drew back.
“What?”
“To not go home.”
Breathless, he nodded. “Me, too?—”
“But.” She smoothed her fingers over his lips. “Not yet. I want…”
“What? What do you want?”
“To savor this.” She looked at him hopefully. “Us.”
Incongruously, his brain agreed with her. But his body damn near shattered he was so hard.
“Lucy, I want this to matter.”
Too old to play games, he decided it best to throw it out now. That he intended, hewanted, to build something with her. Not burn up the sheets and each other and walk away with nothing but ashes left between them.