Sultry Escapes: Waking Up to You. Leslie Kelly

eyeballs were probably popping out of the heads of the guys behind her now. They were likely envisioning wild threesomes and naughty hook-ups. Huh. Other than the threesome part, she was right there with them. Two would be quite enough for the hook-up that had been on her mind all week.

      “Ooh, kinky. Gonna be that kind of wife, huh?”

      “Don’t push it,” she muttered under her breath.

      She settled into the corner, feeling her tension drift away. Talking to Tommy was like talking to a therapist. But she didn’t want to talk to him about Oliver. Mainly because she knew her friend—he’d encourage her to jump the other man’s bones or live to regret it later.

      She already knew she was going to regret it later. That didn’t mean she could do it now. First, because he wasn’t the bone-jumping type; he was the type you lost your heart, body and soul to and lived the rest of your days pining for.

      He also wasn’t interested. Well, he was interested; he just wasn’t going to act on that interest. So she couldn’t, either.

      “Sounds like you’re really not going to have much time for booty calling your way across North America, much less Europe.”

      “No. I’m not.” She held her breath, wondering if there had been any change, if the urgency had died down. Not wanting him to think she was backing out on him, she didn’t ask.

      Finally, he said, “Did you catch TMZ last night?”

      “No, Grandpa only gets basic cable. Why?”

      “Let’s just say it’s getting a little more uncomfortable down here. I guess me being seen around town without a woman—namely you—on my arm is making those engagement rumors die down. And others spike back up.”

      Was he asking if he could announce their engagement? Oh, she hoped not. She wasn’t ready for that. She hadn’t even had a chance to explain it to her family, though she knew they would understand. Tommy had spent just about every summer in her backyard when they were kids. They knew who he was and loved him almost as much as she did. They wouldn’t necessarily approve, but they would understand she was marrying him out of loyalty, love and friendship. Still, she wanted to tell them herself before any stupid tabloid got hold of it.

      “Why don’t you stay home more often then?”

      “I’m in demand, hot stuff. Gotta see and be seen.”

      God, she was not looking forward to being part of that. Except the red-carpet Oscar stuff. That should be an experience. Of course, it would be better if she were walking that carpet as a nominee, rather than the wife of one, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Considering she still hadn’t nailed down her next project—she’d done the sketches she was asked for and sent them in, but hadn’t heard anything yet—she doubted an Oscar nomination for best costume design would be coming her way very soon.

      “Well, gotta go, babe. There’s a party with my name on it.”

      “Be careful.”

      “I will.”

      Then, again because she sensed the guys in the next booth were listening, she added, “I love you.”

      “You know, once you’re wearing my ring, guys won’t be hitting on you all the time.”

      “That goes both ways.”

      “Bite your tongue!”

      “Bye, Tommy.”

      “Bye. Love you, sugarplum.”

      She disconnected the call, glanced at the time and realized it was now nine. Probably not late enough for Oliver to be in bed, but late enough that she’d look weird and pathetic showing up at his door and thus wouldn’t be tempted to find an excuse to knock on it. So she figured it was safe to call it a night.

      She lifted her hand to call for the check, but before she could catch the young waitress’s eye, her vision was blocked by a big jean-and-T-shirt-clad body. A body she’d know anywhere.

      Eyeball to crotch with that familiar body, she swallowed hard and slowly lifted her gaze.

      “Can I join you?” Oliver’s tone was almost conciliatory, as if he regretted the way he’d ended things last night.

      She swallowed hard. Why on earth had he now sought her out when he’d been trying so hard to avoid her?

      “Candace?”

      “Aren’t you afraid I’m not wearing any underwear, or that I’ll ask you for one little kiss?” she couldn’t help asking.

      Behind her, somebody started coughing. She ignored him.

      “I guess I deserved that,” he said, not cracking a smile.

      There was no way to refuse him, and she gestured toward the empty seat across from her. She heard grumblings from the baseball team and could only imagine what they thought. She’d shot them down, then had a romantic phone conversation and now invited a gorgeous man to take a seat. They probably thought she was a bored housewife on the prowl, cheating on her poor spouse.

      “What are You doing here?” she asked after he sat down.

      “Your grandfather asked me to check on you.”

      Her brow shot up. “You two think I need babysitting?”

      His scowl deepened, and he nodded toward the table full of guys behind her. “When I came in and looked over, one of those bozos was right above you, just waiting for you to move enough so he’d have a clear line of sight down your shirt.”

      She jerked her head around and looked over her shoulder. The amateur ballplayers all immediately ducked their heads together, as if realizing they’d been caught out.

      “So you came storming over to defend my honor?”

      That was rich, considering he was the only man who’d come even close to sullying it lately. And oh, had she liked being sullied.

      “No. They’re men, they’re out drinking beer and you’re beautiful. Of course they’re gonna look.”

      The beautiful part echoed in her ears.

      His jaw tensed, and he crossed his arms over his chest and raised his voice slightly. “But if any of them even thinks about touching you, he’ll be drinking his beer through a straw.”

      She should resent this he-man protector stuff. But instead, she found herself feeling all warm and soft at the realization that he felt protective of her. Mainly because it meant he somehow felt possessive of her.

      He could have possessed you yesterday—twice—and twice he turned you down.

      Right. She straightened in her seat, determined not to relax her guard around him, or let him know she was still smarting over what had happened. She was determined to forget all about yesterday, pretend she’d dreamed the whole thing. Well, except the orgasm. She wanted to remember that. She wanted to hug and hold that memory because, as far as she could remember, it was the only time her head had completely blown off her shoulders and then settled back into place.

      The waitress sauntered over, lazy and laid-back as she’d been all evening. But when she reached the table, she did a double take and offered Oliver a much bigger smile than she’d offered Candace. “Hey, there, Mr. McKean. Nice to see you again!”

      The woman practically simpered. Ugh.

      “You want the usual?” the woman asked.

      “Sure.”

      She was back with his beer in record time. “Can I get you something else? Anything at all?”

      Candace gripped her hands together under the table, determined not to react. It wasn’t easy, especially when the woman responded to Oliver’s request for a menu by leaning over him to grab a paper one standing between two condiment bottles on the back of