I have to admit to being more than a little apprehensive about the evening. First dates are always a pain in the ass. Those damn butterflies in my stomach were running rampant. It had been a while since I'd been out with someone new.
If Malone noticed my shaky state, he was too much of a gentleman to mention it. A couple of glasses of Chianti helped calm me down during dinner. The food was exceptional. From the appetizer of mussels marinara through the veal (parmesan for me, piccata for Malone), we ate continuously for an hour and a half. When we left the restaurant, my butterflies were gone. Probably crushed by the amount of food I'd consumed, or choking in a dozen cloves of garlic.
After dinner we went to a small jazz club Malone knew and danced for several hours. Time was a blur. He was light on his feet and good company, maintaining his end of the conversation with humorous stories. The first couple of dances were easy and smooth. The more we danced, the closer he held me. My body was picking up on signals that my brain tried desperately to ignore. There was no denying how much I was enjoying myself. The evening ended too soon.
We were back at my place, waiting for coffee to brew. Malone slid onto the sofa, and disappeared from view. I set the tray with the mugs, cream and sugar on the table before us and made the mistake of sitting beside him.
"Hey," I said softly, as the sofa pressed us together.
"People could vanish in a thing like this." His arm automatically went around me.
"Amelia Earhart had one. So did Elvis."
"Jimmy Hoffa probably did, too." Our lips met tenderly, the sofa working its magic. My face felt flushed as Malone's hand stroked my cheek.
"I should warn you. This couch was a present from my mother. She's still hoping for grandchildren." My voice sounded funny and my breath was catching in my throat.
"Kids could use this as a trampoline." Malone's breath tickled my ear as he spoke.
It was hopeless to resist but I tried one last time. "Coffee should be ready. How do you take it?"
Malone leaned back just far enough to look in my eyes. I wanted to go swimming in those icy blue orbs. "Black.”
He must have seen the grimace cross my face. “I have to warn you; I make really bad coffee.”
“As bad as vending machines?”
“Depending on your taste buds, maybe worse.”
There was just the briefest moment of hesitation. “I’ll take my chances.”
It was a struggle to push him deeper into the sofa and climb out. I don’t know which was more difficult, getting away from the clutches of the cushions or fighting my impulse to jump him. My whole body was flushed. I knew it wasn’t that warm in the apartment. I managed to get into the kitchen and retrieve the pot. When I came back, Malone had moved to the rocker.
“You okay?”
He nodded. “Things started moving a little too fast.”
It was my turn to nod. Not trusting myself to speak, I poured him a mug of coffee then fiddled with one for me. I knew better than to sit on the sofa, so I perched on the edge of the table.
Malone was brave, sensible and fearless.
He drank the coffee. Then winked at me.
“Worse than vending machines?” I asked.
“No,” he said quietly, “but it could be a close race.”
I sipped mine. There was enough sugar and cream in it to make a milkshake. I shuddered at the thought of drinking it black.
“Think I’d better be going,” Malone said. He rose effortlessly out of the rocker and hooked my wrist with his fingers. I moved closer for a kiss. He met me halfway.
“You could stay,” I whispered.
“Not this time.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
The smile reached all the way to his eyes. “I’m old-fashioned.”
“Will I see you again?” It was every girl’s anxious question.
He kissed me lightly on the mouth then kissed both my eyelids. I was melting. “Free tomorrow?”
“You mean Sunday tomorrow or Monday tomorrow?” I kept my eyes closed. If I opened them too soon, he’d be gone and I might have imagined the whole evening.
“Sunday tomorrow, for brunch?”
“It’s a date.”
* * * *
Soaking in a huge bubble bath, filled with fragrant, tropical oils, I had just been pampered with a massage, facial, manicure and pedicure. My hair was shampooed and styled. In the distance, I could see Malone, anxiously waiting for me. Beyond him was an elaborate buffet filled with delicacies. Slowly, I became aware of the welcoming aroma of rich gourmet coffee. I swam up from the depths of the dream, realizing the coffee smell was real.
Blinking at the clock, I saw it was nine-thirty. It was almost three when Malone left. Had I left the coffee pot on all night?
Rolling out of bed, I yanked open the bedroom door and froze in place. Malone was sitting at the counter by the kitchen. In front of him was the enormous Sunday paper. On the counter was a mug of coffee. I could see the steam rising from it. Before he could turn I jumped back behind the door and shut it with a slam.
“Malone! What are you doing here?”
There was no immediate response while he walked over. “Morning, Jamie. We had a brunch date.”
“Yeah, brunch. That is the combination of breakfast and lunch. The sun’s barely up,” I said with a growl. I didn’t dare look at myself in the mirror. I needed a shower, shampoo and makeup before I’d be willing to even look myself in the eye, let alone a guy. Men! Are they absolutely clueless about what a woman goes through each and every morning?
“Hey, I can come back later.”
I hesitated. If I let him go, would he really come back?
“Jamie?”
“Malone, I need some time to get ready. You know, girl time. Not the five minutes it takes a guy to shower, pull on jeans and walk out the door.”
From the other side of the door, I could hear him chuckle. “How much time?”
I almost fell for it. If I said thirty minutes and it took me an hour, I’d never forgive myself. If I said an hour and it took more, I’d probably never see Malone again.
“Jamie, I could leave and come back,” he said again.
The words blurted out of my mouth with no connection to my brain. “Stay put, Malone. Go drink your coffee and read the paper. But do not cast your eyes in my direction until I say so. Deal?”
Now he was laughing in earnest. “Deal. Do you trust me, Jamie?”
I took a moment to consider it. “Mostly.”
“That’s a start.”
I listened to him walk away. Then I dug a hooded robe out of the closet I seldom wear and covered every visible inch of me. After peeking out the door and making sure he was at the counter, I raced for the bathroom.
Men!
Sixty minutes later I’d showered, shampooed, flossed and brushed my teeth. A quick application of makeup and perfume and I was almost ready. I curled my hair, which takes some time to get the right look. I’m not one of those beauties who can roll out of bed, give her head a quick shake and have everything fall into place.
Now I simply had to travel the distance between the bath and my bedroom. Then it was a matter of picking out the right clothes. Throwing the robe over my shoulders, I yanked open the door and stepped into the hall.
And froze.
Malone calmly stood between the bedroom door and me. The rat!
He was fighting valiantly to keep the smile off his face. But his eyes were giving him away. I watched him struggle to keep his expression calm and his attention on my face. I spun around, pulling the robe around me to cover what he’d already seen.
“Hey, Jamie. I was just bringing you some coffee.” His voice was steady, but I could sense the laughter welling up inside him.
“A likely story, Malone. I told you no peeking.”
I brushed past him and darted into my bedroom. As I was closing the door, I saw his hand press against the wood, halting its progress. His other hand moved slowly through the opening. Without another word, he passed me one of my ceramic mugs. It was filled with hot coffee. Silently, I took it from him. He withdrew his hand and pulled the door shut.
I sipped it. He’d even mixed in cream and sugar, just as I liked it. But this couldn’t have come from my coffee pot. This was good. I gulped half of it down then shed the robe.
Ten minutes later, I was dressed in jeans and a red turtleneck sweater. Malone neatly folded the paper on the counter and eased off the stool.
“How did you get in?”
He shrugged. “I knocked, but there was no answer. You didn’t lock your door.”
“It’s a quiet neighborhood and a really safe apartment building. I hardly ever lock the door.”
He leaned over and gave me a tender kiss. “Ready to go?”
“Sure. But I don’t know how much I’ll eat. I’m still stuffed from dinner.”
“We’ll see.”
Malone wouldn’t say where we were going. He drove west, headed toward Ann Arbor. We passed the city and kept going. An hour later, we were outside of Jackson. He turned off the highway and began zigging and zagging through two lane roads. We ended up at a country inn. A small lake was in the background. A string quartet was playing softly. Buffet tables laden with everything from fresh fruit to venison lined one wall. At the end was a chef in the traditional whites with a Red Wings baseball cap on his gray head. He was making omelets big enough to feed a family of four.
“Hungry?” Malone asked quietly as I stood there surveying the bounty before me. I noticed the dining room was packed and many people were waiting in the lobby.
“Suddenly, I’m starved.”
He steered me back to the hostess stand. There was a frazzled young woman standing at the podium. She smiled valiantly as we approached.
“Happy Sunday. Do you have reservations for the buffet?” Her voice was as squeaky as a cartoon character.
I was shaking my head no when Malone indicated that we did. She scrolled down the list, made a checkmark against his name and led us to a table overlooking the lake.
We started with coffee, giving the crowd at the buffet line a chance to thin out.
“That’s pretty impressive that you made reservations and got me here on time, Malone.”
His eyes twinkled over the rim of his coffee cup. “A very wise man once said, timing is everything.”
“I’m betting you didn’t make the reservations this morning,” I said.
“Nope, I made them yesterday.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, Sergeant.”
“It goes with the territory.”
Brunch was a long, leisurely meal that seemed to last three hours. We went slowly through the buffet line, sampling the delicacies. There was smoked salmon, pate, venison tenderloin with mushrooms and capers in a brandy cream sauce, deviled eggs, roasted potatoes with garlic and chives. And that was just on the first plate.
After brunch we walked along the lake, enjoying the crisp autumn air. It wouldn’t be much longer before the snow began to fly. Already, the days were noticeably shorter.
On the drive home, Malone stayed on the state roads, rather than hit the freeway. It was almost as if he didn’t want the day to end. I know I certainly didn’t. Somewhere along the drive back, he’d taken my hand and held it gently. For stretches at a time, we were silent. Then a song on the stereo would trigger a comment, and we’d chatter away like old friends.
We walked slowly up the stairs to my apartment. I bumped my nose on the door. It was locked. Malone had to remind me to secure the place when we left. He was laughing softly as he took the keys from my hand and unlocked the door.
“You still live close enough to the big city that you should always lock up.”
“Yes sir,” I said, rubbing my nose. I walked several steps inside before I realized he wasn’t behind me.
“Hey, Malone.”
“Been a long day, Jamie.”
I came back to the door. “And a lovely, relaxing one at that, but it’s not that late. Come in.”
He hesitated. “I don’t want to rush things, Jamie.”
I don’t know if he could hear it, but my heart was thumping so loudly it could have stopped traffic on I-275. And that’s three miles away. “C’mon, Malone. Stay for a while.”
He hesitated again. My mind raced through all of the things I had done in the past to scare guys away. Being pushy or too easy was one of them. Attacking them in the hallway was probably another. But I really wanted him to stay. I couldn’t tell if he’d made up his mind or not, so I jumped right in.
“Look, Malone. I’m not a kid. Neither are you. I’m not some cop-groupie. We’re both adults. We’ve met half a dozen times or more. We’ve talked, gotten to know each other a little. We’ve just spent a lot of time together over the last two days. We’ve got a lot…”
Somewhere in the middle of this speech, he stepped into the room, pulled me close and kicked the door shut behind him. Then his fingers were caressing my face as he leaned in close for a kiss.
“Jamie,” his voice was a soft, sexy whisper.
“…in common.”
“Jamie,” he repeated, gently kissing my mouth.
“Hmm.”
His lips traveled down my neck. “Sometimes…”
“Hmm.”
He was working his way back toward my ear. “You talk too much.”
The first time on the sofa was wild. There was no chance for foreplay. We both wanted it too much for that. Clothes were flung so far I didn't find my red bra until two days later. It must have bounced off the wall and slid behind the planter. After the initial rush, Malone introduced me to the romantic aspects of each room in my apartment. At one point after a warm bath together, I was on my stomach in bed and he proceeded to drive me crazy by slowly making patterns down my spine with one solitary fingertip.
Each time after the first started out slow and tender. A kiss here, fingers stroking there. Malone was toying with me, bringing me to the edge of excitement now, his lips following his finger. My whole body felt alive, energized with the reactions to his touch. I groaned as he inched lower. His hands were on my hips now, his tongue flicking across my tailbone. With a magician’s flick of the wrist, he rolled me onto my back. Before I realized what was happening, his face was sliding between my thighs. I had to clench my teeth to hold back the scream as his tongue worked its way inside me.
If I was tingling before, I was on fire now. The intensity of oral sex always surprises me.
My hands clutched his head. I realized my hips were thrusting, matching the rhythm of his tongue. His hands were grasping my buns so tightly I’d be able to fit into tighter jeans in the morning… if I survived the night.
I peaked. Delightful spasms wracked my body. I relaxed my grip on Malone’s hair, expecting him to slowly rise from his position and scoop me into his arms.
But he didn’t stop. He shifted, changing the angle of his lips and tongue, and kept going. His kisses were rapidly driving me crazy. Within seconds, I peaked again.
And again.
And, God help me, again.
Finally, when I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, Malone withdrew. He kissed his way up my body, taking his time. A nuzzle here, another tantalizing kiss there. My skin was singing. My face was flushed, probably as red as my hair. At about the time I could actually feel my body starting to recover, he zeroed in on my breasts.
Now I can’t say this is true for all women, I can only speak for me. Maybe it’s because of the infrequency of romantic interludes. Or maybe it’s my age. Or maybe the moon was rising.
My breasts are small. I hinted at that before. There are fourteen-year old girls out there with bigger breasts than mine. To clarify the situation, all my bras are padded and yes, the cup size is A. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it’s what I’ve got and I’d never consider surgery to pump them up. All I know is that when Malone starting stroking and kissing my breasts, it’s like there was a direct connection down below. I was immediately wet with anticipation yet again.
“What am I going to do with you,” I whispered, my voice little more than a feathery gasp.
He paused in his efforts, raised his eyes until they met mine. “Whatever you would like to do. I’m open to suggestions.”
“I’m the one who’s open. Oh boy, am I open.”
I pulled him up, coaxing him with arms and legs. Somehow I managed to confirm he was wearing a condom. Then our lips met as he slipped inside me again.
* * * *
I couldn’t speak for Malone, but it was the most intense evening I had enjoyed in a very, long while. Okay, ever. I lost all track of time. All I knew was that it was pitch black outside and the rest of the apartment building had long ago gone quiet.
I was wrapped in his arms. He was on his back. My head was resting on his chest and I could hear the slow, steady beat of his heart. He sighed contentedly.
“Hey, Malone.”
“Hey, Jamie.”
“Aren’t you glad I talked you into staying?”
“Mmm.”
He twisted his wrist and peeked at his watch.
“Don’t even think about it, Malone.”
“Think about what?”
“About leaving. That would ruin a perfect date and it’s no way to start a relationship.”
I could feel his chest moving with a rhythmic laugh. “One date does not a relationship make.”
I pressed closer against his chest. “Technically, it’s been two dates, Saturday for the Italian dinner and Sunday for the magnificent brunch.”
“Technically speaking, it could be one long date.”
“Un nuh. You went home. Alone. Changed clothes. Came back several hours later. That just shows you recognized how special our date was. And you couldn’t wait to come back to see me again.”
I could hear the air moving through his lungs as he laughed.
“Guess you’re right, Jamie. But just to get things straight, I wasn’t thinking about leaving.”
I burrowed closer. “Good answer, Malone. Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“You mean Monday tomorrow or Tuesday tomorrow? It’s already one-thirty.”
“Monday tomorrow.”
“Afternoon shift starts at three.”
I smothered a yawn into his chest. “Wake me around noon for breakfast.”