Turning Thirty-Twelve by Sandy James Read Free Book Online

away at college.”
    “College? You must’ve been in junior high when you had them.”
    Will you marry me? You’re tremendously good for my ego.
    We spent the next fifteen minutes talking about my favorite subjects as he paid the bill and dropped a tip on the table.
    Once we were back in the car, Mark steered us toward our next destination. Unfortunately, he hadn’t shared the location with me. When we pulled up in front of an ice skating rink a few minutes later, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes.
    “We’re going ice skating?”
    Do I even remember how?
    He nodded, grabbed our jackets, and got out of the car. After he opened the door and I crawled out, he put his hand on the small of my back and guided me in the front door. I liked the way that telling gesture made me feel. That foreign security was floating through my mind again.
    I was practically sleepwalking as I told him my shoe size, watched him rent some skates for us, and lead me to a long bench where we both started taking off our shoes.
    “Mark, I don’t skate very well,” I finally confessed as I laced up the rented white skates that he’d handed to me.
    “That’s okay. I’ll help you.” I liked the smugness in his voice.
    “I take it you skate well.” I finished tying the double knots in the laces.
    We both slipped on our jackets, and then I tried to stand up. My ankles immediately rebelled. I was way too out of shape to even be attempting this. But Mark’s enthusiasm was contagious, and I let him lead me toward the rink, hoping I didn’t look as stupid as I feared I did.
    “Used to play hockey.” He pulled me out onto the ice. He smiled broadly and pointed to one of his front teeth. “See the chip? Busted my face on the ice.”
    I didn’t see a chip. I saw a perfect smile that made me warm all over.
    The place was almost deserted. Since it was summer, I wasn’t surprised. One girl who appeared to be ten or so was working in the center of the rink with a clearly frustrated coach. There were two boys who blew by us a couple of times as they played “tag” around the rink. I was having a hard time not yelling at them.
    You can take the teacher out of the school, but you can’t take the school out of the teacher.
    Mark helped me get my feet straight enough so he could stand behind and push me. Even with his help, I was a little pigeon-toed. He put his hands on my hips and skated behind me as I tried not to let my knees buckle from the sensations this guy sent ripping through me as he pushed me around the rink. I tried desperately to keep my frightened squeaks to a minimum.
    I couldn’t remember any man smelling as good as he did when he leaned over me and rested his chin on my shoulder. He was wearing my favorite men’s cologne. The combination of Mark and Polo Black was warm, strong, and almost as intoxicating as alcohol.
    I’d been living like a nun in a cloister for far too long if I was reacting to this guy like a cat in heat. I liked the way his hands didn’t grip my hips, but instead they moved around, almost like simple caresses.
    The guy was making me hot. Damn hot. And he wasn’t even trying.
    He distracted me so much I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. I suddenly tripped over my own skates. I fell to the ice and sprawled out face down in the most unladylike pose one could imagine. My dignity fell with me.
    I braced myself and waited a split-second for the impact of Mark falling on top of me. He caught himself over me as if he had been doing a pushup. His groin was pressed hard into my backside.
    I was mortified at my clumsiness.
    He was laughing as though he’d heard a particularly witty comedy monologue.
    Mark pushed himself to his feet as I rolled over to stare up at him. He smiled and reached down to offer me a hand. I grasped his and was thoroughly amazed how easily he pulled me back onto my feet, skates and all. Had to admire that kind of strength. He used the opportunity to pull me a little closer until