She bit her lip, and he watched her try to decide whether to take another chance on him or not. “I’ll meet you in front of the building in fifteenminutes.”
Relief flooded him, but he kept his voice casual. “What kind of pizza do youlike?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll order it now and we’ll pick it up when we goby.”
“You’re good at this. I don’tcare.”
“Fully loaded. We’ll runfast.”
She chuckled and let herself out thedoor.
He was out front waiting within ten minutes, and she wasn’t far behind. She was always prompt. He liked that about her. In fact, there was a lot to like about Shari. Including how good she looked in gray cotton running shorts, a white T-shirt and sneakers. They stretched a bit and then set off. He let her set the pace, guiding her on his easier three-milecourse.
Even though he was a fairly bogus personal trainer, he still kept an eye on her, making sure she didn’t overdo it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the curls bounced and tumbled as she jogged. She wasn’t a sprinter, but she had a nice, easy pace. He relaxed, figuring out she wasn’t planning to push herself to try to impress him, then grinned to himself. Why on earth would she try to impresshim?
“Hey, Luke,” called Simon, who was out watering the tiered stacks of flowering plants in front of his Asian grocery on thecorner.
“Hi, Simon.”
“He’s just sent his second son off to college,” he told Shari. “Watch the next curb, it’s a longdrop.”
“You see the world in a different way when you’re not driving all the time,” she said, half toherself.
“That’s the fun of living here. All the life is outside. For a guy like me who works at home a lot of the time, that’simportant.”
They left the street and crossed to jog around Volunteer Park. It had rained earlier in the day and the air still felt damp andmisty.
By the time they made the return leg, he was feeling pleasantly loose and Shari had the pink glow of health in her cheeks and a light sheen of perspiration across hercheekbones.
He jogged into the pizza place and jogged out again with the large square box, making her laugh. He’d long ago learned the trick of putting the whole thing, including the tip, on his credit card in advance so he didn’t have to carrymoney.
“I’m starving,” she said when they entered his apartment, the warm pizza box sending fragrant, teasing steam into theair.
“Me, too,” he admitted. And his body wasn’t hungry for justpizza.
He flipped on the news while she washed up, then picked up the remote control to turn it off when she returned, but she stopped him. “No. This is good. I didn’t have time to read the paper thismorning.”
So they sat side by side on his couch, the cardboard box on the low pine table in front of them, and munched pizza while they watched the news. It was surprisingly relaxed and, while he’d have preferred another, very intimate workout, sitting here sharing dinner and catching up on news was nice, too.Friendly.
He realized with a shock that they were becoming friends. Which was odd. Apart from his sisters, he didn’t have many womenfriends.
When the news ended, a sitcom rerun came on and they both shook their heads. He flipped off the TV and turned on his speakers. Mayer Hawthorne came on. Pretty good date music, hedecided.
She sat with one leg curled under her and, without the TV to distract them, awareness hovered in the air. She reached for another slice of pizza, more for something to do, he suspected, than that she really wantedit.
As she raised it to her lips, a plump slice of mushroom toppled off the triangle and plopped onto her innerthigh.
“Oops,” she said, and reached for the mushroomslice.
He stopped her while lust curled in hisbelly.
“I’ll get it,” he said softly. And he did, using not his hands, but his lips and teeth. The skin of her thigh was soft, smooth, and so sensitive she giggled as he lifted the mushroom off her flesh with his teeth. He ate without tasting, then lapped at the spot of tomato sauce with his tongue. Her giggle turned into a sigh as he let his tongue roam. She tasted warm, a little salty from the run. While his mouth was busy, his fingers traced the hem of her loose grayshorts.
When he’d writtenSex for Total Morons,he’d expanded the first part from a published article he’d once written and called “Four Dates to the Bedroom.” Of course, a lot of women didn’t take four dates, but he liked that getting-to-know-you time, the anticipation and the buildup. He thought of it as the foreplay before the foreplay. So, if he were willing to stretch the definition of date, dinner at Shari’s had meant he’d finished chapter four. Which meant he was free and clear to work his way to chapter five. He liked chapter five. Not as much as chapter six, but five wasgood.
“What are you doing?” Her breathy tone had him hardening. He heard the message behind the words, and it sounded likeyes, please.Chapter five, here wecome!
