Friendly Persuasion (16 page)

The cop examined his license. “Are you Ross Gabriel?”

“In the flesh,” he said, hoping humor would lighten the moment. It didn’t.

“This is a Class A license, Mr. Gabriel. You need a chauffeur’s license to drive a cab.”

“It’s my friend’s cab, actually, and—”

“This is my fault,” Kara said, stepping protectively between Ross and the officer. “I asked him to borrow the cab so we could, um, drive around. I have a thing for taxis.”

Ross watched blush shoot up Kara’s face to her scalp. She was embarrassing herself to get him out of trouble. His heart warmed. The rain had flattened her hair so she looked sleek as a seal and her face gleamed in the reflection of the bridge lights. They should make love in the shower next, all wet and slippery….

“Did this man threaten you in any way?” the cop demanded of Kara.

“Oh, heaven’s no. He’s my boyfriend.” She put her arm around Ross’s waist, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, her lips tense with anxiety.

He’s my boyfriend.
Ross felt himself grin like a loon at the cop. “That’s right, Officer. She’s my girlfriend. I’m her boyfriend. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Absolutely.”

The cop stared at him for a few beats, then turned to Kara. “You’re telling me that your boyfriend here borrowed a cab because you have a thing for them? What kind of thing? Never mind…I don’t want to know.”

“It was completely my idea,” Kara continued.

“And he wasn’t forcing himself on you?”

“No. Not at all. We were changing positions—” She stopped speaking, her eyes wide at how that sounded. “I mean getting more comfortable…I mean…”

The cop shook his head, completely disgusted.

“If we were doing anything illegal we didn’t realize it,” she continued.

“Ignorance of the law—”

“Is no excuse,” Ross chimed in. “We know.”

The cop frowned. Uh-oh, he’d stepped on the guy’s line. Was he looking to get arrested?

The cop sighed wearily. “Wait here.” He walked toward his cruiser, probably to see if Ross was wanted in another state for taxi crimes. What was he going to do if they got arrested? He wouldn’t let Kara go to jail, that’s for sure. But he wasn’t looking forward to fighting off a boyfriend for himself, either.

Kara gripped him tightly around the waist. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I’ll pay the ticket,” she said.

The ticket? How would she feel about posting his bond? “I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.”

“I mean it. This was my fantasy and if I hadn’t been so noisy…”

“I love when you’re noisy. And I was the one who opened the windows.” He kissed her, loving the feel of her mouth. He should be freaked. He might spend a night in jail—standing up with his back against the wall—or at least get slapped with a huge ticket and maybe get Roger into a legal hassle, but all he could think about was the fact that Kara had said he was her boyfriend and he didn’t feel like taking a plane to Canada.

He actually liked the idea. Wanted her to say it again, in fact. He was still pondering what that meant when the cop swaggered back to them.

“Here’s how it’s going to go down,” he said. “I’m going to give you a break on the lewd and lascivious behavior, since you obviously chose this spot for privacy,” he said, giving Kara a look. “And I’ll let the parking in a no-parking zone go, too.”

“Thank you so much, Officer Reynolds,” Kara said, reading his badge quickly. “That means a lot to us.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the break,” Ross added, starting to walk Kara to her side of the car.

“Hold on now,” the cop said. “We’re not done here.”

So Ross stood in the rain while the cop wrote up a ticket for expired plates and handed Ross his copy. The ticket would be voided once the plates were renewed, but Roger wouldn’t be happy about the required trip to the DMV.

“My advice to you,” the cop said, leaning in the window to speak to Kara, “is to be more careful about the games you play.” Then he stood and spoke to Ross, “And, for God’s sake, keep it off the streets.”

“You got it,” Ross said, and climbed into the driver’s seat. The rain had freshened the subtle scent Kara wore and he was figuring out where they could go to make love when Officer Reynolds spoke again. “You’re not planning to drive this vehicle, are you?”

“Excuse me?” Ross said.

“This car doesn’t move until the registration is up-to-date. And then it will be driven by a driver with the appropriate license.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Ross,” Kara said firmly, leaning across him. “We understand, Officer Reynolds. We’ll just call someone to come and get us.”

The officer gave her a half smile. “A difficulty in the law. I’ll be driving off now. I advise you to take care of this situation immediately.”

“Certainly. Thank you.” After the policeman turned away, she said, “We just have to wait until he’s gone and then take the cab back. He’s giving us a break.”

“Right. A break.” Ross shook his head, but he knew she was right. They sat in the cab, the rain tiptoeing on the roof, and watched the officer climb into his car, spin it around and roar away. Probably to harass other lovers with expired plates.

“Here’s how it’s going to go down,” Ross imitated in an officious growl. “That guy watches too much TV.”

They both laughed.

“Can you believe that?” Kara said. “We almost got three tickets!”

“Tickets? We could have been arrested.”

“No!”

“Oh, yeah.”

She kept talking about Roger’s registration, but he’d lost interest. He was too busy noticing how beautiful she was in the rain-misty light, her eyes sparkling with laughter. His heart filled with warmth and he remembered what she’d said that first made him feel this way.

“You told the cop I was your boyfriend,” he said, leading up to it slowly.

She laughed. “I know. Sorry. I completely freaked. And then you go and babble, ‘Oh, yes, Officer. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Absolutely,’ making it sound like a complete lie.” She laughed again.

“Yeah,” he said.
What if it isn’t a lie?
He started to say that, but she kept talking.

“I had to say something to make sure he knew you weren’t forcing me or anything.” She hesitated. Something flickered in her eyes. “That was all I could think of. Boyfriend and girlfriend…sheesh…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Here was his chance.
How about if we try it? Be a couple?
But it sounded lame all of a sudden. Maybe he’d just had some weird feelings there for a second, what with the trauma of nearly being arrested and all.

They decided to drop Kara off at her apartment before he took the cab back to Roger and returned to her place, since Kara stubbornly refused to ride his motorcycle. He didn’t have a helmet for her, anyway, so he agreed.

They made small talk on the way, but it was strained. Kara seemed preoccupied, too, as if there was something she needed to say.
I completely freaked,
she’d said, like them being a couple was so out there. That made him feel strangely empty.

Why not kick it up a notch? Kara was smart and had a great sense of humor. The sex had loosened her up. And maybe the fantasies were the secret to keeping him interested. There was so much more they could explore.

The problem with Kara and men in the past—besides the fact they were dweebs—was that she was the one who fell in love first. Not this time. He was right there with her on the love thing.

If he told her all this, they could make love in her bed. For real. No roles or costumes. Kara and Ross unplugged. That picture pushed him past any doubts that remained. His heart began to rattle in his chest, more noisy to his ears than the cab’s engine.

When Ross pulled up to her apartment, the cab rumbling loudly enough to wake everyone in her complex, Kara swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do. The near arrest had been a big symbolic exclamation point to her decision.
Boyfriend and girlfriend.
Saying that out loud had shot such a rush of longing through her she’d hardly been able to speak.

This was it. If they stopped tonight, let her inappropriate feelings subside, they could preserve their friendship, which they both agreed was more important than this sexual adventure.

Before long she’d be hanging at Ross’s place, regaling him with stories about her dates—with Baylor, probably—and he’d be doing the same for her. Just like the old days. The thought turned her heart into a solid rock of pain, but she turned to Ross. “We need to talk.”

“Exactly what I was going to say.”

That was odd.
We need to talk
were the four words men dreaded most. “I’ve had a wonderful time these weeks with you,” she continued, “but—”

“Me, too,” he interrupted. “It’s been incredible.”

“But the cop incident made me think…”

“Me, too.”

“Oh, good. Then we agree? We have to stop?”

“We what? Oh.” He looked confused.

“I mean, if we keep this up,” she said, “someone’s going to get hurt.”
Me.

Ross didn’t speak.

“I know I’ve said this before, but this time is definite. From here on it will just get too complicated.”

“You’re sure?” he said hollowly.

She nodded.

He seemed to be considering her words. “One more time for the road? We still have the virgin thing, you know.”

“Not a good idea.” She had to go cold turkey. No last, lingering fantasy, where real feelings might spill out like champagne poured too fast into a flute. “We have to remember what we agreed when we started. We agreed that—”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting her off. “If you recite a ground rule I’ll bust this window with my head.”

She paused, surprised at his intensity. “Are you okay, Ross?”

“I’m fine. You’re right.” He sighed again. “I just…it’s a shame about all that Victoria’s Secret stuff.” His sorrowful expression didn’t match his wry words.

“Yeah,” she said. “When I wear them, I’ll think of you.” She’d aimed for humor, too, but it came out wrong.

“Do me a favor and don’t, okay?” He seemed hurt.

“I don’t want you to think this is easy for me, Ross. It’s very hard. All that we’ve done has been amazing and so good for me. You’ve taught me so much.” She looked into his eyes, glanced at the mouth she loved. She’d never taste it again. She looked at his hands, which were gripping his thighs as if for life itself. Those fingers would never touch her intimately again. Tears welled in her eyes and she wanted to fall into his arms and take it all back.

But she had to stay strong. She whispered, “Better get the taxi back,” gave him a quick peck on the cheek, inhaling his smell one last time, like a secret vice, and got out of the cab. “Drive carefully,” she said. “Watch out for Officer Reynolds.” She turned to run up the walk, blinking back tears, feeling as if her heart was leaking all over her insides.

Behind her, the battered cab rattled away. She turned to watch it go, standing there for a long, long time. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. This was for the best. She’d call Baylor first thing Monday morning and ask him out—for Saturday night if possible, so she wouldn’t be tempted to call Ross and recant.

Already her body ached everywhere, as though she’d fallen down stairs and gotten bruised head to toe. But she was still on her feet. Not desperate. Determined to move on. Not even crying—though her eyes were a little watery. She’d caught it in time.

As if to prove the rightness of the decision, he’d gotten home to four phone messages from women wondering where he’d disappeared to, asking if he was interested in “getting together”—code for no-strings sex. When he returned those calls, he’d have a delicious month of romps to look forward to. It didn’t get much better than that.

Then Monday at work, Kara had announced she had a date with Baylor Jones.
Our plan worked,
she’d said, all cheerful and bouncy.
You showed me how sex can be fun without getting uptight and planning the future. I can date Baylor with open eyes now. Isn’t that great?

Yeah. Just great.

He stared at his phone. He’d picked it up three times, each time barely keeping his itchy finger from speed-dial one—Kara’s spot. What was he going to say to her—
Don’t go out with that dweeb. I’ve got a whole new list of fantasies we can act out?

Then he looked at the message machine where the women’s messages still waited. He should make a date. Get started on life without Kara. He pushed
play
and picked up a pen to write down the numbers. Except then he hit
delete,
erasing each sweet offer, one by one. He didn’t want a month of sexual romps. He wanted Kara.

He knew where he could find her tonight. Jones was taking her to a trendy wine bar and then to dinner at a restaurant where you turned over your Gold Card when you walked in and they handed it back to you maxed out. The guy was pulling out all the stops just to get in Kara’s pants, no doubt.

Don’t let him, Kara. Don’t let him touch you.

Every time he thought about it, his vision faded to gray and he wanted to hit something. He
had
hit something, as a matter of fact—the wall a couple of times—and now it hurt to play his guitar, which he’d been doing between aborted calls…lonely blues so fierce the whine of the strings made his ears ache. He was an idiot.

Why hadn’t he just told her he wanted to try the big R? Because it sounded feeble, that’s why. Kara needed a rock, and he wasn’t sure he was that solid. How could he ask her to risk it when he couldn’t promise anything?

He watched the clock tick. She’d be in the shower now, washing those gorgeous breasts, that flat stomach, those great thighs. Washing herself for Baylor Jones. What kind of a name was Baylor? You named a suit Baylor Jones, not a man.
Baylor, Baylor, Bo Baylor, banana fanana fo failer.
Baylor the Failer. Not a man for his Kara.

Now she was drying off. He saw the towel brush between her legs, that place he loved, so delicate, so responsive, and he got hard. The thought of Baylor touching her there, hearing those breathless sounds she made, made him sick. The guy wouldn’t think to find that place on her thigh that, when Ross stroked it just so, made her rigid with pleasure. Hell, the guy probably wouldn’t even care if she climaxed.

He shouldn’t be thinking like this. This was damaging. But he kept it up and an hour later, he found himself roaring on his bike to that chichi wine bar to get Kara.
I love you. I want to be with you. No more games.

He kept the ferocious hunger for her at the front of his mind, blocking out the fact that he was operating on undiluted testosterone, and if he’d just kick back with a beer or take his board to a skate park and take a few blows to the head, he’d get over it.

But here he was, standing in the door to the bar, running his fingers through his hair so he looked good for Kara. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the expensive Pinot-Noir light of the place, then zeroed in on Kara like a homing signal. She was sitting on a love seat leaning toward a guy—Baylor the Failer, no doubt—smiling, now laughing, at something he was saying.

Ross strode across the room, feeling like John Wayne in a bad Western—
Take yer hands off my woman.
He didn’t give a damn how stupid he looked.

The place was crowded with people sitting at the bar and standing in clumps, all trying to look New York. By the time he’d woven his way to where Kara and her date sat, Jones was gone. He caught the guy’s retreating back heading toward the john alcove. Good. He could talk to her alone.

Extravagantly bowled wineglasses sat on the tiny table in front of Kara and there was a wedge of cheese they’d been nibbling on. Everything so tasteful and elegant. Until Ross crashed in. He was an idiot, but it was too late for second thoughts because her name was on his lips.

“Kara,” he said from behind her.

She turned in the love seat and looked up at him. “Ross?” She blanched, but then he saw what he’d needed to see on her face. Delight. Relief. Joy.

“Come here.” He took her arm and guided her to her feet. She rose willingly, if a little confused, then he crushed her into his arms over the back of the sofa—a move straight out of a movie, except this was real, as real as the strawberry flavor of her lips, the sweet flower of her perfume, the shaky breath from her dear lungs—all of it sending life into him. He’d been dead, he realized, except for longing, since he’d dropped her off after the interrupted cab sex and she’d told him it was over.

She sagged in his arms, then managed to pull away. “Stop it,” she said, her mouth bruised looking from his kiss. “No more games. I’m on a date. And we never planned ‘jealous boyfriend,’ anyway.”

“I’m not playing, Kara. This is real.”

“What are you saying?” She searched his face.

“I’m saying I…I love you, Kara.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise. Before she could say anything that made him doubt his own words, he pulled her tight and kissed her again, this time with more tenderness than he thought he had in him.

Kara couldn’t believe what was happening. Ross had appeared and declared his love and now he was kissing her and it was wonderful and amazing and heavenly and….

A man cleared his throat. She jerked back to the reality of Baylor at her elbow. “One visit to the rest room and the world turns over,” he said.

“Baylor,” Kara said, hazy with enchantment. “This is so rude. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize this would happen.”

“I guess I’m not surprised,” Baylor said.

She could see he was hurt and she didn’t blame him. He was a nice guy and the drink they’d shared had only made her like him more. And want to sleep with him less.

“Rebounds are risky, but you seemed worth it, Kara. I hope you know what you’re doing.” He gave Ross a once-over of disapproval. Ross did look out of place in the toney crowd in his red Keds, T-shirt and jeans, but Kara didn’t care. She was so happy to see him he could have appeared in a gorilla suit and she’d have been delighted.

She watched Baylor leave, feeling Ross’s eyes on her, burning a hole into her. She turned to him.

“I couldn’t stand the idea of you being with that guy,” Ross said. “Or any other guy. You belong with me.” He cupped her face in his hands. “We belong together.”

Her heart rose in her throat, pounding and pounding so she could hardly think. All she could do was look into his hazel eyes, dark with emotion and desire. “Ross, I don’t know…I don’t think…”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

She couldn’t make the words come out. “I feel that way, I guess. I’m just scared.”

“Me, too, but let’s go for it.” He grinned and grabbed her by the elbow, and before she knew it he’d hustled her out to the parking lot and straight to his motorcycle, which gleamed a menacing, daredevil black and silver. She stopped short. “I can’t ride this.”

“Sure you can. Here.” He handed her a helmet.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Not as dangerous as taking a cab. The driver would get one hell of an eyeful. I’ll drive carefully. I promise.”

Weakened by his kiss and in a haze, she hiked up her dress, threw a leg over the saddle and wrapped herself around Ross’s warm body.

Ross backed up the bike, kicked it to life and they roared off. Kara gasped in terror, plastered her face to Ross’s back as best she could with the helmet in the way, closed her eyes and held on with a death grip. If she was going to die, she’d rather do it with Ross.

After a few minutes, when she realized they were still upright and the wind wouldn’t blow her off, she opened her eyes to look.

And found it amazing. Ross steered the bike evenly on the road and she could tell he was deliberately going slow. It was startling to be part of the scenery, to be close to the cars driving beside them, music drifting from open windows, touched by the spring air, open to the scent of orange blossoms, mesquite-grilled food from restaurants they passed, seeing pedestrians, neon signs in complete detail, not blurred or smeared by window glass. She felt Ross’s heart pounding against her palm. He was here—solid and sure—and he wouldn’t let her get hurt. And she realized she wasn’t scared of the bike. Or anything right now. Adrenaline and love made her feel invulnerable. Ross loved her. And they were going to make love to each other—for real and for the first time ever.

What are you doing?
her sensible side demanded. This is some fantasy-induced drama. Ross is just jealous of Baylor. Men get like that. You’re doing it again, falling in love too soon.

This wasn’t the same old pattern. This was different. Ross loved her. She knew him better than the men in her failed relationships. This was new. Better. Right.

All the same, she closed her mind and just held on to Ross all the way to his apartment.

Once inside his place, Ross cupped her cheeks and searched her face. “I want to make love to Kara. Not Katherine or Angel. To you.”

“I want that, too.” Words failed her, so she kissed him with her whole heart. The kiss was full of the discoveries of the first one—
so this is how you taste, how your breath moves, how your lips feel
—but deeply familiar, too, like coming home from a long, dangerous journey, safe and sound.

They broke apart and began to undress without saying a word. The moment felt almost sacred, as if they were offering themselves to each other, open and honest and completely there.

Kara let her dress drop to her feet. She’d worn plain white underwear tonight because she had no intention of sleeping with Baylor, but Ross’s eyes gleamed with the same look as Miguel’s that first night when she’d worn the sexy black-lace teddy.

Ross whipped off his T-shirt and tossed it to the side, then removed his pants to stand before her, his erection prominent and proud.

Kara unhooked her bra and let it drop, then slid out of her panties. She felt no embarrassment, no shyness, just pleasure and pride.

“Look at you,” Ross said.

“Look at us,” she answered.

They smiled at each other in wonder, like Adam and Eve discovering their sexuality. Then Ross took her hand and they walked to his bedroom, where they went to separate sides of the bed.

Kara slid under the sheet, but before she could pull it up, Ross yanked it completely off the bed. “I want to see everything,” he said, reminding her of Dr. Michaels, the sex therapist. He climbed onto the mattress beside her, examining her with adoration, treasuring her. He cupped one breast the way Miguel had.

She touched him, too, feeling the swell of his pectorals, the flatness of his stomach, the muscles jumping under her fingers. He held still, watching her, as he had when she’d overpowered him as the Love Thief. When she reached his velvety penis, he closed his eyes. She curled her fingers around the shaft and slid upward to end in a gentle touch at the head.

He groaned. “You know me so well,” he said, words he’d used as the cabdriver. He cupped her with his palm and slid two fingers gently between her folds to the live wire of her body hidden there. That reminded her of Mike reaching under her flight attendant uniform, riveting her in place with his fingers.

She rolled from her side to her back.

“I want you to feel everything,” he said, the Love Thief again. All the lovers were coming back, combining together into Ross. “I want to make love to you,” he said.

Make love.
Not have sex. Ross and Kara would be making love. Just the two of them. No roles, no games. For real, this time.

Kara realized she’d wanted this, longed for it, fought it since the adventure began. At last it was all right. She loved him and, best of all, he loved her.

She spread her legs, open to Ross, open to anything he wanted to do to her, aching for him to fill her, to go deep, as far as he could go. He stayed poised at her entrance for a moment, then he whispered, “I love you, Kara,” and pushed into her.

She gasped, the pleasure of his entry, the relief of it, and the joy of hearing his words all equal in her heart.

“I feel right when I’m inside you,” Ross said, his face full of love. “Like I belong here.”

“You do belong here. Exactly here.” She bent her knees, lifting her hips, bringing him in deeper.

He pulled out and thrust in, hard, then out and in again and again. There was no playful teasing in their lovemaking this time. The bed banged against the wall with the force of their movements. They worked hungrily toward climax, moving as one, laying claim to each other, body and soul. Ross was inside her, part of her. He was in love with her, feeling what she felt.