Friendly Persuasion

“Nothing you don’t want,” he said, but his eyes said, Or that I can’t talk you into.

She gulped. “I guess. But if it gets too, um, complicated, I can quit, no questions asked, right?”

“Rule number two, remember? No harm, no foul. Any more rules you can think of?”

“You’re positive about rule number one? Friendship first?”

“Absolutely. I couldn’t survive Siegel on the rampage without you keeping me from putting my foot in my mouth. Anything else?”

She pondered, taking a deep swallow of her beer. This was completely new territory for her, so she had no idea what rules she might desperately need at some point. “One more,” she said. “If we need a new rule at any time, we can add it.”

“Oh, God. The Queen of Revision appears. Now this feels like work.”

“Being flexible is a good thing,” she said.

“Mmm, I’ll say. I know a woman who can lift her ankles way up to her—”

“Stop it, you’re scaring me,” she said, slugging him. “I’m no contortionist, so don’t expect anything spectacular.”

“You might surprise yourself,” he said, low and sexy. “We might unleash a tigress.”

A nervous giggle erupted from her. “I’d settle for a sex kitten.”

“Oh, me, too. With sweet little claws that dig in just this side of pain.”

Her insides heated up. “Anyway, I guess that’s it,” she said. “Shall I read them back to you?”

“I got it,” he said, “and you do, too.”

“Okay, then.” She slid her notepad back in her purse. She’d make a copy for both of them later.

Then, there she was, sitting knee to knee with Ross, with nothing to do but look into those hot green eyes and wonder about the woman with her ankles up to her whatever. She grabbed her beer bottle to take a drink and banged it into her teeth. “Ouch.”

“Careful with that thing,” he said, taking the beer from her icy fingers and putting it beside his on the table. He extended his arm along the couch behind her and scooted closer. “All this talk has me in the mood. How about we get started?”

The only light in the room was the golden glow through the stretched rawhide on Ross’s Roy Rogers lamp. Romantic in an adolescent kind of way. And Ross smelled good, she noticed—clean and fresh with a sporty scent. He had such a sensuous smile. And he wanted her. Would she disappoint him? Suddenly she wasn’t ready. “It’s getting late. Maybe we could start fresh on Saturday.”

“No time like the present, Kara,” he said, his eyes raking over her in eager appraisal. “Don’t you always say procrastination is the enemy of progress?”

“Not fair to use my work ethic against me.” He was right, though. If she waited, she’d have Thursday and Friday and all day Saturday to get nervous. She did need to learn how to keep things casual. If not Ross, then who? Someone she’d have to start fresh with. Why not now? “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this thing.”

“You make it sound like a project.”

“No. I don’t mean that. I’m just—”

“Nervous, I know. How about a little atmosphere?” He leaned past her and pushed a button on a remote. The gravelly voice of a seventies singer known affectionately as the Walrus of Love swelled into the room.

“God, you’re using your warm-up move on me,” she said. He’d told her of the magical effect Barry White on auto-play had on women.

“Sorry,” he said. “I go with what works.”

“Try to stay fresh for me,” she said. “In honor of our friendship?”

“Deal.” He leaned in and she braced for a replay of last night’s kiss. Except he went for her neck with a soft, nuzzling motion. Mmm. Women love you to mess with their necks—another tidbit from Ross’s repertoire. It did feel good and her body started a slow melt until she remembered the woman Ross had dated whose leg twitched just like a dog’s when he hit a certain place. Kara burst out laughing.

Ross stopped, frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry. I just remembered Lorraine. Wasn’t she the one with the twitching leg?”

“Yeah, right. Focus, okay?”

“Sure. Sorry.”

“Let’s do something I know you’ll like.” He moved in for a kiss. It started like the Tuesday one, then got better. Everything inside her went soft and melty. She leaned in closer. Ross’s hands slid up to touch her breasts. Sooo good.

Then he started patting her chest. He broke off the kiss. “Is that one of those water bra thingies?”

“What if it is? Come on.” She went for his mouth again.

“You don’t need that fake thing. You have perfectly good breasts.”

“The darts are big on this blouse. I need some padding. Just ignore it.”

“Right,” he said. He shifted her body so she was lying on the sofa and he was half on top of her. Lovely, but she kept thinking this was just the next step in his usual mating ritual.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“Is that a line?”

“Of course not. You are beautiful. Your contacts show off your eyes. Crystal-blue. Nice shape—kinda almond.”

“Thank you.” It was glorious to hear compliments like that from Ross. This situation had tremendous potential.

“Remember the time that guy licked your eyeball and swallowed the lens?” Ross said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Never date a man who still lives with his mother at age thirty. They get strange.”

“Enough talk. We’re losing momentum here,” he said.

“Right.” She pulled him down for a kiss.

“Mmm,” he murmured, “that’s what I’m talking about.”

She felt a momentary thrill, then she noticed a lump behind her head. She reached around and fished out transparent red bikini panties. She held them out. “Either you’ve got some explaining to do about your wardrobe or one of your ladies left a souvenir.”

He shrugged. “Suzee forgot, I guess.”

“How could she forget her underwear?”