Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
She had nothing to wear.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she concluded she shouldn’t have abandoned so many online shopping carts when she got too busy with work. It was a thing she did—realized she needed new clothes, surfed through a site, added a couple things, then never got around to actually buying them.
Tonight she had fashion regrets.
Having tried on every single article of clothing she owned, she was down to the least unappealing, a simple pair of shorts and a blue-and-white striped tank top. And flip-flops.
Any woman with an ounce of sexual sense knew you shouldn’t go on a date with a hot surgeon in rubber shoes. But the problem was, she only had work sneakers, a pair of black heels she wore to any occasion that required a dress, and the flip-flops.
Her hair was charged with static from ripping so many shirts on and off, and her skin was the lightest shade of white on any Floridian under the age of sixty-five. She couldn’t find any bronzer in her sad makeup bag that she almost never used.
Plus, the locker she’d fallen against at the hospital had left a red bruise on her cheekbone, and her attempts to conceal it had her looking like she’d been eating oatmeal and missed her mouth.
It was with a whole lot of nerves that she answered the door when the bell rang.
Houston had on jeans, a navy blue T-shirt, and sandals. She’d never seen him outside of the hospital, and he wore the beach-bum casual look well.
“I don’t have a skirt,” she blurted out for a greeting, though she had wished with every ounce of her being that she did after their arousing phone conversation.
Houston smiled, his teeth very white against his lips, and she was aware of how infrequently he smiled. Good thing though. Because when he did, she was ice on a hot skillet.
“That’s okay, as long as you’re wearing the lip panties,” he said.
He had quite the fixation on those underwear. Not that she minded. “They’re still on.”
His eyebrow went up. “For now.”
Hello. Josie fisted her hands in the hem of her tank top. “Do you want to come in?” And take my panties off?
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to grab some dinner. I haven’t eaten, and I know a little out-of-the-way place that the tourists haven’t found.”
It would prolong her agony and horniness, but maybe she could order a glass of wine to loosen up a little. Right now steel was more flexible than she was. It was one thing to talk sexy on the phone with her eyes closed, but not so easy staring Houston in the gorgeous face.
“Sure, that sounds good.”
Her flip-flops made little stick-and-slap sounds as she walked with him towards his car and Josie was acutely aware of the silence between them.
She hated silence, had always been a talker, and truthfully, something of a babbler.
Her mother claimed it was from being an only child, where she had to provide the majority of conversation with herself.
Whatever it was, silence made her nervous. When people were happy, they talked, and Houston rarely pried his lips apart. Except when he was kissing her. They’d been wide open then.
She fanned herself discreetly. “So how was surfing?”
“Fine. Good waves.”
Waiting for him to expand on that, she nodded politely. After sixty seconds she realized no expansion was forthcoming. He unlocked his Jeep and she climbed into the passenger seat, tossing her backpack purse on the floor.
“So...I’ve never been surfing. I always thought it sounded fun, but you know. I’m not very athletic at all, and I’ve heard so many horror stories about swimsuits being knocked off and shark bites and sunburns that it just never seemed like a good idea.”
Oh, good. She was babbling. Glancing to the right, she studied the fast food restaurant in front of her as they drove and rolled her eyes at herself.
“I’ve never had my trunks knocked off.” Houston didn’t take his eyes off the road. “And if you like the water, you should try it sometime. It’s like being on a roller coaster.”
“Yeah?” She stole a long peek at his profile. Yep. Still a god. His nose hadn’t suddenly grown a bump. His eyes weren’t muddied. And his jaw hadn’t softened like she kept hoping it would so she would get over this insane crush. “Maybe you can teach me how to surf.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t volunteering. I have no desire to accidentally drown.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” She could surf if she wanted to surf. She had just never thought standing on a board over water, suspended in the air, was a particularly good idea.
He pulled into a parking spot and turned to her. The corner of his mouth lifted into the tiniest of smiles. “It doesn’t mean a thing. I’d love to see you surfing. I would pay money to see you surfing.”
Well, well, was he actually teasing her? She grinned before she attempted to look stern.
“Then I’ll go next week and you can pay me fifty bucks.” Then she stuck her tongue out at him. To her surprise, he reached out and caught it, holding her tongue captive between his thumb and index finger.
“Ahmm,” she said, before she realized that talking without tongue mobility was impossible.
“You’re worth more than fifty bucks.” Those ice-blue eyes watched her with equal parts lust and humor. “And I can think of better things to do with your tongue than sticking it out at me.”
He released her, but before she could close her mouth, he drew the tip of her tongue between his lips and sucked.
A shudder raced through her, desire sharpening below her belly.
She let out a breath on a sigh, feeling out of control already, dominated by the position as he drew on her.
Josie wanted to both push him away and pull him in further.
Her arms came up, hovering in indecision, her eyes drifting shut. Speaking of drowning.
Houston let go of her and moved back. “Do you like crab?”
Sucking huge gulps of air in, her hands pressed against her stomach, Josie just stared at him. “Huh?”
His thumb pointed to the weather-beaten restaurant in front of them. A swinging sign proclaimed Barnacle Bill’s Crab Shack. It could have said Our Food Sucks for all Josie cared. She was still pondering that odd mating game he had just played with her tongue.
“Sure. Crab is fine. Guess they won’t mind flip-flops.”
Houston shook his head. “Not at all. It’s mostly deck seating anyway because the back of the place butts up to a private stretch of beach.”
Josie followed him into the dim interior, then out the back door onto the deck, crowded with tables and diners and staff maneuvering in and out with trays.
After a quick consultation with the hostess, Houston took her elbow and led her to a table in the corner next to the railing and featuring a view of the sun setting over the ocean.
Josie sighed as she sat down. “I love watching the water. And it’s nice to get out of the air conditioning.”
She tended to get chilled in excessive AC, and much preferred a balmy breeze and eighty degrees to sixty-eight-degree airtight rooms.
“Are you from this area?” he asked.
“No, not exactly. We moved here from Michigan when I was thirteen.”
“Then I’m surprised you don’t like air conditioning. We get all those tourists here from up north. It hits seventy and they’re sweating, squirting water in their faces with battery-operated misters, and moaning about the humidity.”
“Just like when we go north and a cool breeze blows and we’re pulling on sweaters, and the locals are all running around in shorts.”
Houston smiled. “I guess so.”
Josie fingered the menu in front of her and studied Houston.
He puzzled her, with his reserve and his burning eyes, and she felt very inexperienced sitting across from him.
She had never drawn the attention of serious men, and had always dated guys who fell squarely under the heading of class clown.
Houston was older than she was, efficient with his words, and she knew absolutely nothing about his personal life. Except that he wanted to have sex with her.
Just once, so damn, she’d better make it count.
Grabbing her menu, she fanned herself and tried to retrieve her thoughts from the bedroom. “So what’s good here?”
“Crab,” he said.
Well, duh. Josie laughed. “Weil, I’ll have that then.” And a big bag to hide her face in.