Finding Mr. Right. Gwynne Forster

and opened his own. “You read it to me,” she said. “I’m too comfortable to move, and I’d have to let go of your waist.”

      He read it to her and added, “We’re in luck, or at least I am. I love Italian baroque chamber music.”

      “Me, too. The problem is that it puts me right to sleep.”

      “We’ll have our picnic in a few minutes. I don’t suppose you can eat and sleep at the same time.”

      She kissed his neck, and he wished she’d warned him. “I guess not. I don’t remember ever dreaming about food. And that’s weird, because I love to eat.”

      He covered the boulder with a blue tablecloth, set the table with the matching plates and utensils the caterer supplied and placed their food on it.

      “This is wonderful, Byron. A feast beneath the stars in a fairy-tale environment, listening to beautiful music in the company of a man who is literally a heartthrob. If I act a little giddy, who could blame me?”

      He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t expect me to behave when you talk like this.” He held a glass of white wine to her lips. “I’ve been drunk on you since the minute I first saw you. If you keep talking like that, I’ll start staggering.” It was all right to joke and tease, but he was serious. “Tyra, I asked you if there was a man in your life, and you said that there wasn’t. Will you give me a chance to be the man in your life?”

      She seemed taken aback. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

      “No, not yet.”

      “If I know up front what your motive is I might cooperate.”

      “Fair enough.” He swatted the side of his neck to discourage an offending mosquito. Then he opened the shopping bag and took out the shirts he’d brought.

      “Thanks. You’re a very thoughtful man.”

      “If you give me a chance, Tyra, I’ll always take good care of you. Always.”

      Chapter 4

      On the way home from the concert, Tyra mulled over Byron’s words, and especially her memories of his gentleness throughout the evening. He’d done everything but feed her by hand. Now, he wanted her to confine her male companions to him.

      Tyra didn’t want any man but Byron. Yet, she wasn’t sure that not seeing other men made sense. She could count on one hand the men she’d dated and still have fingers left.

      “You’re very quiet,” Byron said. “Is there a something bothering you?”

      “I’m not sure. There isn’t another man in my life, but I’m not certain that I want to promise you that there won’t be. There are times when my attraction to you frightens me. I love being with you. and I’m happy when I’m with you But suppose I’m making a mistake? Don’t you ever doubt your feelings, Byron?”

      “I appreciate what you’re saying, even though I don’t like it. I especially appreciate your honesty. I’m forty years old, and I know who I am. I don’t doubt my feelings for you one bit. Are you telling me that you don’t trust a relationship with me?”

      “I didn’t say that. I’m wondering if I’ve had enough experience to know…I mean to judge what I’m feeling. It happened so suddenly, and it…seems like we’re moving too fast.”

      “No relationship stands still, Tyra. It either grows, or it begins to die. Are you afraid?”

      “Believe me, it’s definitely not dying.”

      “If you want to stop seeing me, tell me right now.”

      When she turned to look at him, she saw that the firm set of his jaw did not match the softness with which he spoke. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so candid. “No, I don’t want to stop seeing you. I love being with you.”

      “But you don’t trust the relationship.”

      “That’s too harsh. I trust you, and I… Oh, why did I start this.”

      He parked in front of her house, cut the motor and turned to her. “Will you or won’t you stop seeing other men and give us a chance?” He looked into her eyes, unsmiling, and she knew what would come next if she said no. If the truth were known, he had no cause for concern. Don’t make the biggest mistake of your life, girl. He’s asking for the truth.

      “I will, Byron,” she said at last and breathed deeply in relief, “but you promised not to rush me.”

      He slid an arm around her. “I know I did, but I had to know, because we need to talk. Instead of going to the concert tomorrow night, will you have dinner with me?”

      She hid her surprise at his change of plans. “What time?”

      “I’ll be here at six-thirty. Okay?”

      “That’s fine,” she said and stroked the back of his hand almost absentmindedly. “It’ll be a long day.”

      “Does that mean you’ll be eager to see me?”

      “That’s what it means.” His eyes seemed to devour her. Then a half smile played around his lips.

      “If we weren’t right under this streetlight. I’d kiss you silly.” He got out, went around and opened her door and headed up the walk to her house.

      Unwilling to let him leave so soon, she said, “Why did Clark invite you to spend the night here? I don’t get the sense that you two are really close friends.”

      “Our offices are in the same building and, occasionally, we eat lunch together. At the time, he was an expert witness on a case I had here in Frederick. The judge wanted the trial at nine o’clock, and that didn’t suit me, but it suited Clark, so he suggested that I spend the night here. As an added incentive, he raved about Maggie’s cooking, because he knew how much I love good food. He didn’t mention you, and it’s a good thing that he didn’t, because I don’t like being set up.”

      “He told me he was bringing a houseguest, but he certainly didn’t describe you. I thought he was bringing a girlfriend.”

      Byron stepped closer. “It happened when you opened the door. Why don’t you stop fighting it?” He brought her into his arms. “Kiss me. I’m starved for you.”

      She reached up to kiss him playfully on the cheek, but he moved to capture her lips. She tasted his hunger and his driving need. She pulled his tongue deeper into her, answering him with her own rising passion. He grabbed her buttocks and fastened her body to his. She could feel him then, and heat began to simmer in her loins as she pressed herself to him until, nearly frantic with the need to explode, she undulated wildly.

      Out of her mind with desire she grabbed his hand and rubbed her left breast with it until he began to pinch and squeeze it. “Do something,” she moaned. “I’m aching.”

      She thought she would die from the feeling of his long fingers on her skin as he released her breast from her scooped-neck dress. Lifting her, he sucked her left nipple into his mouth while he teased and pinched the other one. She’d never felt anything in her life like the throbbing between her legs. And still he suckled her.

      “Oh, my lord. I can’t stand this,” she moaned, shaking from the onslaught of his passion.

      He released her breast and wrapped her in his arms. “We’re going to have to do something about this, sweetheart. Do you feel anything for me other than passion? I know you feel that. Do you? Do you care for me?”

      “Yes. Oh, yes, I do. What…what happened a minute ago?” When he stepped back in order to see her face, she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, if he’d think her immature.

      “If we had privacy, we probably would be making love this minute. At least, that’s what we both need right now. Have you ever had a truly satisfying sexual experience?” She shook her head. “It’s