Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [60]
"Good morning," she said softly as she found him scrambling eggs at the stove. He'd pulled on a pair of jeans, too. "I hope I didn't wake you."
Nate turned and gave her a cheerful smile. "Good morning to you. I woke as soon as I felt you get up. I almost joined you in the shower."
Her heart picked up its pace. "What stopped you?"
"I figured you might need a little time alone this morning," he said, his expression tender.
He was right. Lacey appreciated his consideration. Though a morning shower together did sound enticing…
"So instead of seducing you into spending the day with me," he continued, "I decided I'd appeal to your stomach. You are hungry, right?"
She nodded. "Breakfast would be great, thanks. Then I really should get home."
"Why? I'd hoped we could do something together today. Go to the harbor, or maybe drive down to Annapolis."
Though she was tempted, Lacey realized that she did need some time alone—to think and absorb what had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She needed to figure out what had changed in her physical relationship with Nate and in her views of herself and her world. She'd woken up feeling like a different person today. She needed to get to know herself again.
"I don't think so," she finally replied. "I have things to do. And I'm sure you do, too."
"We could call it research," Nate said, a cajoling tone in his voice. "We'll interview some midshipmen for the story."
Lacey grinned. "Middies in dress whites. Now you're talking."
He pointed the spatula toward her. "Uh-uh. No drooling over muscle-bound meatheads on our first date."
"Date? You're asking me on a date?"
He gave her an offended look, but she saw the humor in his eyes. "Oh, so I'm good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to date?"
"I think we skipped right past the dating chapter in the manual," she retorted dryly.
"I think we could rewrite that manual, Lacey." He chuckled. "Though, yes, I suppose it's customary to go on the first date before getting wild on the living room floor. Or the weight bench. Or the bed."
"Don't forget the trampoline," she managed to say with a saucy grin, "and my kitchen table."
"How about a private skybox at Camden Yards?" he said.
She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Did I forget something?"
He shook his head and sighed. "My fantasy. You and me in a private skybox, giving new meaning to the seventh-inning stretch."
Some devil made her reply, "J.T. has a skybox."
"When's the Orioles' next home game?"
"I have no idea," she replied, chuckling at his enthusiasm. "Besides, those skyboxes aren't completely private."
A wicked expression crossed his face as he fantasized aloud. "We could be discreet." He lowered his voice. "I think I've got something hanging in the closet that you could wear under a sexy little miniskirt. Lacy and black. And very accessible."
She gulped, remembering a wicked ensemble she'd spotted in the hall closet the day before. Something with unusually placed zippers. And slits. "I don't own a sexy little miniskirt," she finally managed to whisper.
"I'll buy you one. Flirty and red. You could sit on my lap and no one would ever realize I had my hands on you. No one would see me touching you or know I was sliding into you. That is, unless you couldn't help yourself and screamed when I made you come right then and there amid thousands of people."
"You're bluffing," she said breathlessly, getting caught up in the images he evoked. "You wouldn't dare."
"Ask your father for a game schedule," he cajoled, "and I'll show you what I'd dare."
His eyes held both a promise and a challenge. Though she shook her head reprovingly, Lacey knew darn well she'd end up asking her father for the schedule. Just out of curiosity.
"Okay, wicked man," she finally said with a firm shake of her head, "feed me. All this fantasizing is making me hungry."
"Fantasizing is supposed to make you