Shaking his head at the vagaries of fate and the U.S. Postal Service, he shut the door and eased to a squat in front of the book. The cover was a bit more in-your-face than he would have liked, but it was certainly eye-catching.
He traced the title,Sex for Total Morons: A How-To Guideby Lance Flagstaff. He picked up the heavy tome and whacked himself softly on the forehead. “Lance, buddy. Your timingsucks.”
He gazed at the damp, jagged edge of the envelope. If it had only held together a few more minutes… It reminded him of one of the sections in chapter eight, and he shook his head. “Talk about prematureejaculation.”
Well, his babe-radar suggested he’d been intriguingly close to having a date tonight, till Lance popped out,uninvited.
Damn. With his latest men’s magazine article emailed, and no looming deadlines for a change, he’d have loved a night on the town. And he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather spend it with than the lady upstairs. Shari Wilson, Suite 325—the reward he’d promised himself when his most crushing deadlineseased.
Luke groaned in frustration, knowing a night with Shari wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Lance had seen tothat.
There were places he could go tonight, but all of a sudden he didn’t feel like going anywhere. Instead, he went to the fridge in his galley kitchen, twisted the cap off a beer and returned to the living room where he settled onto the couch to flip through his newbook.
“Chapter One. First Impressions.” Luke snorted over his beer thinking about Shari’s face as she read the title of the book. He’d made an impression on her she’d remember forever. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the impression he’d hopedfor.
He most certainly didn’t want to be seen as a guy who needed a how-to book in order to bed ababe.
Why hadn’the just told her thetruth?
I wrote the damn book.The words had formed in his mind, but never made it out of hismouth.
He ought to be proud of his first book. Okay, it wasn’t the novel he’d always planned to write, but it was an honest-to-God book, with real pages and a cover. He’d certainly felt the urge to confess that he was, in fact, Lance Flagstaff, who’d achieved a bit of celebrity with his monthly advice column and blog. He could have joked with her about the pseudonym and hopefully have watched the disappointment fade from hereyes.
The beer cooled his throat but not his frustration. He was shy about letting anyone in on his little secret. Even though he’d written the instructional book, he wasn’t at all convinced a book could teachlovemaking.
Like most men, he imagined, he’d learned to make love to women by trial and error, by finding out from his partners what they liked, by being open about his ownpreferences.
It had always seemed to work fine. The women he slept with usually came back for more. Quite eagerly, infact.
Sex education wasn’t, in his view, a matter of reading. It was a matter of getting out and doing. Luke felt he’d learned something from every woman he’d been with. And he’d discovered that the sex was always unique, because the combination of bodies, likes and experience was always new. How could you explain all that in a few hundredpages?
How could he teach that there was nothing more sensuous or exciting than asking a woman to show him how she liked to be touched, stroked, or caressed, then giving her the utmost pleasure. And when a woman was equally open about asking him to share his preferences, he was only too happy to show her what turned his crank. That’s how sex worked in his experience, and no book could replace the honest give-and-take of newlovers.
He tapped the longneck against his teeth. Was he a hypocrite? He’d been writing for years on the subject of sex, usually offering a man’s perspective on the dating scene, what turned men on—gee, that one had needed a whole lot of research. All a woman had to say was, “Wanna get naked?” and that did it for most men he knew. He’d attended various seminars and programs, some hokey and some mind-bendingly scientific, read countless books in the name of research, interviewed enough sexually active men and women to fill a small country. Through it all, Lance had developed a reputation as an expert on all matterssexual.
Then came the book offer. Frankly, he’d been flattered to be approached. Plus, the venture had sounded like fun. It was a nice big project with a nice fat advance, so he’d writtenSex for Total Morons,secretly wondering if he wasn’t helping deforest the planet fornothing.
Can a book teach you how to be a greatlover?
The question had plagued him all through the research and writing, and bothered him still. Too bad there was no way to find out if the program he’d outlined in the book actuallyworked.
About to toss the book to the table beside the couch, he once again saw Shari’s pretty face turn pink with embarrassment as she’d read the title and its implication had sunk into hermind.
Wait aminute!
He sat bolt upright, his eyes bugging out of hishead.
Wait just a damned minute there,Lance.Maybe there was a way to test thebook.
In his colossal arrogance, he’d never explored the possibility that a woman might actually believeheneeded a book about sexual technique, never mind be willing to help him learn how to be a goodlover.
But tonight his bruised ego had learned that it was eminently possible. Shari Wilson had hightailed it out of Dodge precisely because she did believe that he, Luke Lawson, had sent away for a brown-paper-wrapped book to teach him how to be a goodlover.
When he got past the insult to his male ego, an intriguing possibility teasedhim.
Mutual attraction hummed in the air every time he and his upstairs neighbor got close to each other, whether exchanging mail or chatting as they passed in the entrance foyer. He’d been thinking about her more than he should, given his recent deadline hell. But every time he saw her, he got caught up in her full-lipped smile, the brown hair that hung in sexy curls past her shoulders, the killer bod and the spirit of fun he’d sensed inher.
In fact, he’d written the last couple of chapters ofSex for Total Moronspicturing Shari in every glorious position his eager imagination could invent. He’d felt so intimate as he’d described the hard-edged pleasure a man feels as he drives himself into a woman who’s primed and ready for him, that it seemed inevitable he and Shari would soon belovers.
