Fool for Love: Fooling Around\Nobody's Fool\Fools Rush In (4 page)

If this was dinner, he wondered what she had in mind for the dancing and entertainment part of the evening. If she continued on this frugality kick, she might be taking him to her apartment where she'd crank up some tunes on her CD player. Hmm. He could live with that. Oh, yeah, he could definitely live with that.

He scanned the familiar menu. “A double cheeseburger, chocolate shake and a large order of fries would be great.”

“My pleasure. There's a table over in the corner. If you hurry you should be able to snag it for us.”

“I'm your guy.” He worked his way out of line and over to the vacant table. One swipe of his hand got rid of the crumbs on the seat, but as he sat down he noticed that the collision with the rug rats earlier had left him with ketchup on his best slacks.

This wasn't at all the way he'd pictured this date, but maybe he'd be smart to let the chips—or in this
case, fries—fall where they may. He had no idea why they were here. It could be a budget thing, or maybe Lena was into surprises and unconventional ideas. He liked that explanation better. Tightwads weren't his style.

He watched her move up to the counter and noticed the way the blue gauze skirt swirled around her long legs. She was wearing an ankle bracelet, and he'd always liked the way those looked on a woman. Oh, yeah, all sorts of exciting possibilities were swirling in the air tonight. His body began to hum in anticipation.

L
ENA WAS REASONABLY CERTAIN
that Andre considered her a lunatic but was too polite to say so. Meanwhile, she was dying of embarrassment as she watched him pretend enthusiasm for a burger when he'd undoubtedly expected filet mignon. Surely he was counting the minutes until this weird date was over.

Even so, she had to admit there were advantages to this setup that wouldn't have come with your typical upscale eatery. For one thing, with such cramped quarters, her knees kept touching his under the table and their hands bumped as they reached for their shakes or grabbed for a fry.

Plus they were both eating with their hands, which gave an earthiness to the experience that knives and forks would have taken away. He licked his fingers and so did she. Watching him do that certainly gave her a sensual thrill. If only she knew whether the gleam in his eyes came from interest in her or because he was controlling hysterical laughter. Probably the second.

She'd always thought sitting across from a man at a table for two with candlelight, wine and soft music was the most intimate setting. Turns out she was wrong. Sure, kids at the next table were staging a
loud battle with a squadron of action figures, and to her left a couple of teenage girls were shouting into their cell phones, but that meant she and Andre had to lean in close to carry on a conversation.

He was being a good sport, obviously using his salesman skills to try and put her at ease. As if she'd ever be at ease in this situation. First there was this ridiculous restaurant choice, and then there was the reality of leaning close to Andre, the hottest thing since sliced jalapeños. Those dark eyes and longish hair made her think of a bistro in Paris and walks by the Seine. She'd never been to France, but she could imagine being there with a man like Andre.

She'd admired his smile for weeks, but from eighteen inches away it made her weak with desire. Such a sensuous mouth. Such even white teeth. To kiss that mouth would be heaven. To feel it moving over her body would change her world forever. Too bad this nightmare date would kill any possibility of that happening.

“I think I know why you wanted to eat here,” he said.

She'd been so preoccupied that she had to reconstruct his sentence in her head before she could answer. “You do?” He couldn't possibly know about the April Fools. She didn't want him to know, either. At least, not until later, much later. Maybe they could laugh about it one day. Yeah, right. And maybe Town Lake would freeze over.

“It's a brilliant idea. Usually when two people go on a date they're feeling a little awkward with each other. I was counting on a bottle of wine to help out
with that, but this is better. The barriers are disappearing and yet we're both completely sober.”

The barriers are disappearing.
Was he serious? Maybe he wasn't putting on an act, wasn't pretending to be having fun. What an amazing concept.

“You really took me by surprise, though,” Andre said. “I was sure you'd start laughing any minute and tell me it was all a big joke.”

“No. This was the plan.” She couldn't believe he actually liked the idea, though. No doubt he was still being nice.

“But you didn't want to tell me that, and I get it. If you'd invited me out for fast food, that would have seemed very weird.”

And this didn't?
“So…would you have said yes?”

He looked into her eyes. “Uh-huh. If you'd asked me to share a bag of pretzels outside a convenience store, I would have said yes. But I would have thought you were strange. Sexy, but very strange.”

“You must still think I'm strange.” But he'd called her sexy. A flush spread through her.
Sexy.

“Innovative.” He reached out and traced a finger along her arm. “You played it right, asking me to dinner and then surprising me with a burger and fries. Plus I don't feel bad because you ended up paying. It's been fun.”

She couldn't believe how well this was working out. If she could skip the belly-dancing class, they might be on their way to a most excellent dating experience, in spite of the fast food, maybe even
because
of the fast food. But the April Fools were all about being uncomfortable, and she was getting way
too comfortable with Andre. That meant it was time to push the boundaries some more, damn it.

She glanced at the empty cardboard burger container in front of him. “Are you about ready to go?”

“Sure am. I can hardly wait to see what else you have in store for me.”

“A little dancing, if that's okay with you.” Her tummy twisted with anxiety. If only she could take him to a trendy night spot. But that wasn't the assignment the April Fools had given her.

“Dancing sounds awesome.” He glanced down at his slacks. “But I hope the lighting's not too good. I was tagged with some ketchup.”

She flinched when she saw the stain on what looked like a very expensive pair of pants. “Oops, sorry. I don't suppose you could sponge it off.”

“These are dry-clean only.” He shrugged. “I'll bet nobody will even notice.”

“I'll pay for the dry cleaning. I'm sure you wouldn't have worn those if you'd known where we were heading.”

“Forget about the dry cleaning. The surprise value was worth it.” He ushered her through the door and into the mild April night. “Listen, can I take off this tie before somebody asks if we perform our act locally?”

That made her laugh, in spite of being extremely nervous about phase two. “You can ditch the tie.” She pulled her keys out of her purse and pushed the button on her key chain that unlocked the car.

“Good deal.” Immediately he stripped off the tie, stuffed it in his pocket and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt. Then he paused to look at her.

Her skin heated as she realized he'd caught her staring at him. She'd never seen Andre with his shirt unbuttoned. He had a sexy throat, the kind she'd love to nuzzle. Drawing in the scent of his aftershave, she hummed softly with delight.

He continued to hold her gaze. “I'm so glad you asked me out on this date.”

“Me, too.” She struggled to breathe normally. When a guy looked at you like that, it usually meant he was about to make a move.

He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. Yep, he was making a move. And she so wanted him to. Once they got to the belly-dancing class, he'd lose all interest in making moves, except to run for the nearest exit.

His voice deepened. “To think we've been working in the same building for six months. What a colossal waste of valuable time.”

“I know.” Her heart thudded in anticipation. She'd imagined kissing Andre—what woman with a pulse wouldn't?—but she'd never imagined kissing him while standing next to a statue of a clown.

He lowered his head. “Let's not waste any more valuable time.”

Let's not.
She closed her eyes and lifted her mouth in invitation. When his lips touched hers, she recognized immediately that he was very good at this. His aim was dead-on perfect—no sliding around looking for the right position. He owned this position, and the steady pressure of his mouth there was slowly coaxing a surrender she could hardly wait to give. By the time she felt the slide of his tongue, she was aching for the next step, a
very
French kiss.

“Mommy, Mommy! Those peoples are kissing! Ooo, gross!”

With a groan, Andre released her. “Maybe this isn't the place.”

“I…don't know.” She gasped for breath and managed a wobbly grin. “Where are we?”

His answering smile made her knees quiver. “Now there's a compliment I can live with. Come on, let's get out of here. Want me to drive?”

With great reluctance, Lena shook her head. “Um, thanks, but I'll drive.” She had to follow the plan, because that's what friends did when they'd made a pact with each other. Brandy and Meg would follow their instructions, so she could do no less. Fair was fair.

If she turned over the keys, Andre might take that as a signal to go somewhere private and continue with what they'd started. And she would love to do that. But she wouldn't let down her friends.

Still, she had to admit this date was already more potent than she ever could have imagined. Only an hour into it and they'd shared a kiss of epic proportions. She could hardly wait to find out what a second round would be like. Unfortunately, they had a belly-dancing class to attend first, and that might put an end to any more kissing, ever.

“Want to skip the dancing?” Andre's voice was laced with suggestive undertones.

More than you know.
Lena took a deep breath and started the car. “No,” she said. “I promised you dancing, and dancing you'll get.”

He laughed. “Sounds as if you have this all scripted.”

“I, uh…well…” She scrambled for an explanation.

“That's okay. I'll go with the flow.”

Dear Lord, I hope so.
She pulled the car into traffic and headed for the dance studio.

 

D
ESPITE BEING FRUSTRATED
by the urge to go on kissing Lena, to do a whole lot more than kissing, Andre thought it was kind of cute the way she was sticking to her program. And maybe she had the right idea. That kiss had been super-charged, obviously throwing them both for a loop. One or two more like that and they might start ripping off each other's clothes.

He thought about the condom he'd stuck in the pocket of his slacks after getting dressed. He wasn't sure why he'd grabbed it. He certainly didn't expect to have sex with Lena on this first date. But that kiss had him wondering if they'd even be able to hold off until some future time. At the moment he didn't want to postpone a darned thing.

Maybe he should see how she stood on the matter. “From the way we reacted, I guess we've both been anticipating that moment for a while,” he said.

Her hands tightened on the wheel. “You could say that.” She swallowed. “But don't get the wrong idea. I don't generally—”

“Me, either. Not generally.”

“I think it's good to get to know each other first.”

“Absolutely.”

They spoke in unison. “Tell me about your fam—” They broke off, laughing.

“You first,” he said.

“But it's typical and boring.”

“Mine, too.”

She glanced at him. “With a name like Andre Dumont? I doubt it. Trust me, there's nothing exotic about my family.”

“There's nothing exotic about mine, either.” And for the first time in years, he threw away his trump card. “I'm not French.”

“What do you mean, not French? Are you saying that's not really your name?”

“No, it's my name, but you'd have to go back about six generations before you'd get to a bona fide French guy from France.” And then he confessed what he'd never told anyone else, that he'd been named after a brand of champagne. He waited for her to start laughing.

“But that's so cool!” she said. “Champagne is all about celebrating, the drink you serve at special occasions. I think it's a great thing to be named after.”

“You do?” Suddenly he began to like the concept a little bit, himself.

“And it goes perfectly with your last name. Your mom must be fun.”

“Well, she is.” And he'd taken this name business way too seriously. He could see that now. How interesting that he'd been worried about Lena being too uptight, when it was apparently an issue for him, too. “So you're okay with the idea that I'm not really French?”

“I'm relieved, to tell the truth. I've always been afraid you were too sophisticated for me.”

He glanced at her in admiration. “So you met that
head-on with a fast-food meal. I'm impressed. That takes guts.”

“But you don't understand. I'm a coward.”

“Not from where I'm sitting.”

“But I am. From the cradle on I was conditioned to play it safe.”

He blinked. “A woman who plays it safe doesn't march into a guy's office and ask him out.”

“She does if she's trying to overcome that handicap.”

A rush of tenderness caught him by surprise. He pictured her repairing her makeup and working up her courage to come to his office on Tuesday afternoon. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for being brave.”

“Thank you for saying yes.”

He heard the quiver in her voice and remembered how nervous she'd been that day. “You didn't think I would, did you?”

She shook her head.

“That makes you braver yet.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “I'm a regular Joan of Arc.”

“I'm beginning to think so. I—” He paused when she turned into the parking lot of the YWCA. “Okay, I'm confused. I thought we were going dancing.”

“We are. This is the place.”

“O…kay.” He unsnapped his seat belt and opened the car door, all the while picturing Big Band music and orange sherbet punch. “Might be a little more wholesome than what I had in mind, but I can deal.” He waited until she'd locked the car and
joined him on the sidewalk. “I need to ask one thing, though.”

“What's that?”

“I know you said all that about liking my name because champagne is so festive, but we seem to be hitting all the spots where drinking wouldn't be possible. Is that on purpose?”

“No.” She smiled at him as they walked toward the building. “Pure coincidence. I drink champagne. I like all sorts of alcohol, in fact. I'm especially fond of Chianti.”

“No kidding? I love Italian food, and I haven't had any in forever. There's this place I've been meaning to try—Caesar's. We should go there sometime.” Then he hesitated, realizing he'd just made an assumption. “That is, if you think you want to go out again.”

“I would like to go out again,” she said softly. “But maybe you'd better wait and see how tonight turns out before you commit yourself.”