Terms of Surrender by Leslie Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

just physical appearance, and actually cared about personality. Someone she could like. A lot.
    But oh, did she ever hope there was some lust there, too.
    “Hi, see you found it,” he said as he entered the Irish restaurant he’d sent her to, a cute place that was more trendy than publike. He smelled clean and fresh and spicy, his subtle aftershave making her think of all good things male. “And I see you found something else to wear?”
    She glanced down at her new clothes. In popular Annapolis, it hadn’t taken her more than a half hour to find a shop and grab a pair of casual pants and a lightweight sweater, and not break her bank doing it. She’d changed into the outfit in the restaurant’s ladies’ room. She’d put her underwear back on, too. The pants fit fine…no panty lines.
    “Yes, I did.”
    His gaze zoned in on her hair, the ash-blond tresses hanging down over her shoulders like a veil. His voice a hint lower, thicker, he said, “Don’t ever wear that hideous bun again, okay?”
    She swallowed, feeling her legs tremble the tiniest bit under the full onslaught of his close-up, admiring attention. “It was supposed to make me look older, more mature around students.”
    “Trust me on this, they’re going to be busy enough staring at your…panty lines.”
    Oh, joy.
    “They’re not going to be distracted by any old-lady hairstyle.” He lifted a hand, running his fingers through a long strand, as if savoring the texture. “Besides, it’s beautiful.”
    Okay, it was soft. Thin, but soft. And, all right, the color was pretty. At least, this man’s rapt attention made her think so. She managed a shaky smile and swallowed hard, willing her heartbeat to slow down. It was just that the simple brush of those fingertips on her hair, the faint scrape of his thumb on her cheek had been so incredibly nice. Which made her wonder what a real touch might be like.
    Earth-shattering.
    Well, a few of them in a row almost certainly would be.
    Another couple walked in the door, reminding them that they were blocking it. Taking her elbow, he smiled politely and led her to the empty hostess station. Then, glancing down at her feet, he murmured, “I see you didn’t hit a shoe store. Those aren’t exactly seaworthy.”
    No, they weren’t. The pointy pumps might be a little dressy for her outfit. But they were also sexy, and the man liked them. She’d seen that in his eyes when they’d had that silly conversation about her feet. “I guess not,” she conceded.
    “Does that mean you’ve already made up your mind about the sunset? Not gonna trust me?”
    “Well, you didn’t steal my car,” she said.
    “That’s me. Not a car thief.”
    “And you showed up when you said you would. You didn’t stand me up.”
    “Not a jerk, either.”
    She smiled up at him. “I think I can trust you.”
    “Good,” he said, a warmth in his stare loading that simple word with additional meaning. He was glad and was looking forward to spending more time with her.
    Mari tingled a little, feeling her skin pucker as she thought about lying on the deck of a boat with him. It definitely wasn’t bikini weather, but she suspected he could keep her warm without much effort.
    A hostess approached, her gaze immediately zeroing in on Danny. Big surprise. Stepping the tiniest bit closer to her date, Marissa said, “I figured if we do go for a sunset cruise, I’d probably want to take them off and get my feet wet, anyway.”
    Apparently not even noticing the other woman’s overly-warm-for-a-hostess-smile, he tsked. “And risk damaging perfection with unforgiving saltwater?”
    “You have a thing for feet?” the hostess asked with a little simper.
    “Not old ones,” Marissa replied.
    That had come out of her mouth purely by reflex because of the conversation they’d had earlier. It had not been meant as a snotty comment to the hostess, who was probably close to forty.
    But the woman still stiffened, her smile growing tight. As