Friendly Persuasion

“Ah, honey, I get them so hot they forget their own names.”

“Pul-eeze. You may be good, but, trust me, a woman knows where her underwear is at all times. She left this to mark her territory.”

“I don’t know…Suzee’s kind of scatterbrained.”

“I thought you didn’t date bimbos.”

“I don’t as a rule, but she can do the most amazing things with her tongue.”

“Could you stop raving about the sexual skills of other women? I feel like I’m being haunted by the ghosts of lovers past.”

He took the panties from her and tossed them over his shoulder. “Forget other women and their clothes. Let’s get you out of yours.” He slid his fingers under her blouse, but maybe because she was nervous or because he was Ross, his fingers stimulated her tickling reflex. She jerked away, giggling. “I’m ticklish there.”

“Oh, hell,” he said. “How about here?” He pushed his fingers higher.

“That’s okay, but…” She tried to hold it in, but laughter burst out.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“You got the tickle thing going. Let me get on top.”

“Somehow I knew you’d want that.”

She ignored the dig and wiggled out from under him, but missed the edge of the sofa and fell to the floor with a squeak, dragging him with her. “Ouch,” she said. “Your elbow’s in my boob.”

“Sorry. How can you feel a thing with that inner tube in there?”

“Cut it out.” She went for his ribs and he laughed and jerked away, so she tickled him in earnest. He returned the favor, and they were soon rolling on the floor laughing and tickling each other.

“This is hopeless,” Kara said, pulling herself to a sit.

“I’ve just begun to fight,” Ross said. He leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he moved his tongue in a way that reminded her of the eyeball licker and she laughed into his mouth.

“You’re giving me a definite case of shrinkage,” he said. “Lucky for me, I know I’m a stud.”

“Lucky for all the women on your speed-dial, you mean.” She grinned at him. He really was sweet and very sexy, with his longish dark hair tousled across his forehead. She touched his face. “This just feels too silly. Thanks for trying, Ross. You’re a good friend.”

He sighed with regret. “Too bad.” He slid his hand across her left breast. “I’d love to get under all that water.” He straightened her collar and patted it. “At least we worked some of the starch out of your blouse.”

“Yeah.”

“The kissing was nice, don’t you think?” He rubbed his thumb over her chin sensuously and with regret.

“Very,” she said. For a second, she wanted to go at it again, but she’d start giggling, no doubt. And it was a relief they wouldn’t be risking their friendship, ground rules notwithstanding. “I’m just going to have to meet somebody new to figure this stuff out. A stranger I could never fall in love with.” Even though it had fizzled, this preliminary trial showed her the potential of this approach. It could change her life for the better. It just wouldn’t work with Ross.

“How do you plan to do that?” Ross was looking at her intently.

“I’ll go to a bar, I guess.”

“Not a biker bar or anyplace rough. Because I can’t let you do that.”

“I’m not crazy,” she said, touched by his protectiveness. “I’ll just find somebody who’s like you. Someone not my type. A ship passing in the night. A musician. Or I could find a business traveler. Or a pilot.”

“Where will you go?” he pressed. “What bar?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the downtown Hyatt. Lots of pilots and flight attendants stay there and there are always business conventions. Don’t worry about me,” she said, shoving at him gently. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

“Okay, I guess.” He looked her over again. “Don’t settle for just any guy. You really are hot. I hope you don’t have any doubt about that. Ditch the water bra. And make sure to use a condom or see proof of a blood test.”

“Okay, okay, Dad. Thanks for being my friend.”

“Too bad I couldn’t be your stranger.”

“Yeah, too bad.” If she could meet a stranger who kissed like Ross… That would be too perfect to be possible.

3

ROSS SPOTTED Kara right away. She sat at one of the high round tables in the middle of the Hyatt bar, looking very hot in a black dress as tight as a second skin, with a scooped neckline that revealed lots of creamy breast. Her fair skin looked luminous in the dim light.

He ran his fingers through his moussed-back hair. She wanted to sleep with a stranger, so he was giving her one—a South American playboy, to be exact. He’d bought a European-style collarless black silk shirt and a burnt sienna linen suit, borrowed a gold bracelet from a friend, and practiced his Spanish. He’d stopped short of a fake mustache, figuring it would interfere with his kissing and what if it peeled off?

Why was he doing this? For one thing, the thought of her flashing her shy smile at strange men just about killed him. What if she got into trouble? He had to watch out for her.

There was something more, something primitive related to the night before. Holding her—even while she giggled—had reminded him how attracted he’d been when they’d first met, and if she hadn’t burst out laughing, he would have gone for it. Her skin had tasted great—like vanilla and cinnamon and she’d felt delicate but sturdy. He wanted to hear how she sounded when she came, listen to her make those soft, desperate noises of pleasure. Couldn’t wait for them, in fact.

She needed a stranger, so he’d be a stranger. Of course, he could just pick out a nice guy for her, set them up on a date—first threaten the guy’s life if he hurt her, of course—but who better than him to help her out? They’d gone through the ground rules. He knew how to keep it simple and carnal. He just wanted to do it.

He hoped Kara would get into the game right away. He didn’t want to look too closely at his motives.

There she sat, looking nervous as hell, completely oblivious to how sexy she was. He found that delightful. Plenty of men were checking her out, too. A car-salesman-looking guy at the bar had just caught her eye. He looked the guy over. Used cars, for sure.

She smiled tentatively, nervously wagging her crossed leg—spike heels on her feet. Mmm. She sure as hell didn’t have on granny panties tonight. Probably lace—red or black? He hoped it wasn’t a pair of those edible things she’d bought yesterday. Just thinking about Kara’s underwear got him aroused.

The car salesman smiled at her and rose from his seat.

You can do better than him, Kara, Ross thought. Don’t settle. He had to act quickly before she was tempted to take this sleazeball home for a peek at her red lace panties. He rushed forward, tripped, but caught his balance on a table before anyone saw him acting uncool.

The lounge lizard noticed him heading for Kara and sat down, frowning.

Sorry, guy. The best man just won.

“May I join you, señorita?” he asked Kara in his best Spanish accent.

“Excuse me?” Kara glanced at him, then away, then back. “My God. Ross? What are you doing—?”

“Perdóname, señorita. I do not know this Ross person. My name is Miguel. I am from Argentina. I am a stranger here in your city. Business brings me here and I am, sadly, alone.”

“You’re what?” Kara couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ross had smoothed back his hair, bought a stylish suit and now was pretending not to know her. He wasn’t grinning, so he wasn’t teasing her. He looked absolutely serious, this Miguel.