That’s it. No going further this time. As soon as she saw the signs, she would end the date. Like last night. No, not last night. Way, way sooner.
She was bathing in diluted Pheramour when the doorbell chimed.
Déjà vu. The man had very bad timing. Or very good timing if seen from his perspective. He'd get an eyeful again. She hiked up the towel as best she could, clamped a hand to the swell of her breast and opened the door.
Sam smiled lazily down at her. He wore his regulation jeans and white T-shirt, a few stray forks of jagged hair falling across his forehead. He looked sexier and cooler than ever. How was that even possible?
"You're early."
"I couldn't wait." His gaze brushed across her skin where breast met towel. "I'm glad I didn't."
Face heating, she turned and led the way inside. "I'm beginning to think your timing is off on purpose."
"I'm only a man."
She headed to the bedroom where the clothes she wanted to wear for the day were folded on the end of the bed. "Help yourself to coffee," she called back to him. "I won't be long."
"You know," he said, suddenly right behind her, his voice a hoarse whisper in her ear, "you don't have to get dressed right away." His knuckles skimmed lightly down her arms and he kissed the top of her bare shoulder. "I don't mind."
Her quiver was involuntary and damn inconvenient. He must have felt it. Now he knew his touch sent her into a spin. Or was it the room that was spinning? Oh boy. If she wasn't careful she was going to lose it.
She couldn't afford to lose it—not when Pheramour was the reason behind his attraction.
The flutter in the vicinity of her heart brought her senses crashing back to reality. That was a good thing. Definitely a good thing. She could not let him get under her skin. Too much was at stake.
Like her heart.
"Don't," she whispered, pulling away. She heard a sigh behind her as she closed the door.
In the safety of her bedroom, she dressed in a thin pale pink push-up bra and matching, high-cut panties which she'd bought for a date nearly a year ago but chickened out of wearing at the last minute. She figured she needed to do something different in her life, just once, and since she was dating Sam Hennessy—another first in her life—she might as well feel sexy.
She put on a flighty, knee-length summer skirt and tight T-shirt over the lingerie and admired what expensive underwear could do for a girl's figure. She applied makeup, then took it all off. No need to encourage him too much. On the other hand, she was going out in public and she didn't want people wondering how such a plain, nerdy looking girl could snare a man like Sam.
She re-applied pale peach lipstick and black mascara then brushed her hair. It had no effect on the unruly mop. The dark curls had a will of their own and sprang out from her head at weird angles. It looked messy so she forced it straight back into a ponytail and secured it with a heavy duty hair clip. She pushed her glasses up her nose and studied her reflection. Not too bad considering what she had to work with.
"Ready," she said, returning to the living room.
Sam leaned against the bench of her adjoining kitchen, ankles crossed, mug in hand, oozing sex appeal. He drained the contents of the mug and placed it in the sink. "You look fantastic," he said approaching.
She rolled her eyes. Pheramour. "Let's go." She pushed him out the door.
"Wait." He reached out and undid the clip holding her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders. "Better."
"Really?" She touched a curl bouncing near her cheek. "I always thought it made me look like a shaggy dog."
"You're cute but you're not that cute."
She frowned and he caught her shoulders, pulling her gently to him. Her breasts pillowed against the hard muscles of his chest and her nipples tightened at the contact. His lips lightly brushed hers. "I was kidding."
That was a kiss. That was definitely a kiss. Oh God, Sam Hennessy just kissed her again and she had no idea what to do or say next. So she said nothing and followed him out to the car like a zombie.
"Where are we going?" she said, sliding into the Porsche’s passenger seat.
He climbed into the driver’s side but instead of starting up the car, his gaze settled on her thigh. She pulled down her skirt as far as it would go, which wasn’t far. Maybe she should have worn something longer, like a sack.
"The market," he said.
Ten minutes later they found a parking spot in busy St Kilda and joined the throng of people wandering around the market on the Esplanade. On a warm summer day like today, people flocked to the cosmopolitan area looking for a bargain but usually ended up buying junk they didn't need.