The Last First Kiss (Harlequin Special Edition) (7 page)

He looked at Kara somewhat uneasily as they walked down the darkened block toward his car. Unlike when they’d first arrived, there were now a great many parking spaces available. The car that had been parked behind him as well as the one that had been parked in front were gone. Pulling out was going to be easy.

Other situations remained a bit more complex.

“This isn’t a real date,” Dave said to her, wanting to both get her reassurance and place her on notice in case there was any sort of doubt as to what he’d signed on for. To be honest, when he’d said yes to her plan, he’d felt as if he’d been backed up against a wall. In theory, it had sounded like a good idea. In action, he wasn’t so sure. Not the part about deceiving his mother—at this point she should know better than to feel a need to play covert matchmaker. What he wasn’t sure about was being thrown into Kara’s company time and again. It was asking for trouble.

Kara rolled her eyes. “Oh God, no. If it was a date, there’d be that first-kiss syndrome hovering over us in the background. Making us edgy.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but that was becoming par for the course. “First-kiss syndrome?” he asked. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have, feeling that by asking, he was only encouraging her. But this, he had to admit, had stirred up his curiosity. He knew he wasn’t going to have any peace until she explained.

“Yes.” She looked at him as they walked by a streetlamp. She couldn’t believe he was actually asking. Was the man sheltered, or made out of iron? “You know what I’m talking about.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking,” he pointed out, trying to be patient.

She sighed and began to explain. “It comes packaged in a box filled with a whole bunch of anticipation. You always imagine that first kiss is going to be far better than it could possibly be so that when it finally does happen, well—” she shrugged “—it never lives up to all the preperformance hype.” A glib smile played on her lips. “Kind of like most movie trailers. Anticipation embodies the very best, reality turns out to be, well—” she shrugged again, a bit more helplessly this time “—disappointing.”

In his opinion, the whole process sounded much too complex and draining. For once she was the one overthinking something. A kiss should just be spontaneous. “And this is what you go through?”

He made it sound as if he’d never experienced that first-kiss anticipation. Still, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Don’t men go through the same thing?”

They were still within the scope of the streetlamp, not to mention that there was a full moon. Both illuminated her. His eyes swept over Kara.

For just a lingering moment, he could see himself anticipating sampling the taste of her mouth—purely on an experimental level, of course. For scientific purposes. “Well, I can’t speak for most of the species, but I know I don’t.”

Was he that jaded? Or that innocent? It was a hard call, but with a face that Michelangelo would have been thrilled to have before him as a model, Kara had a strong feeling that it wasn’t the latter.

“That’s because you obviously haven’t held anything in your hands that can’t be found in a medical supply closet.”

His mouth curved. He was not about to rise up to the bait and start citing what he
had
held that was
not
found in a medical supply closet. But he couldn’t just let her challenge go completely unanswered, either. “You’d be surprised.”

Her eyes met his. What would it be like to— Nope, she wasn’t going to go there. She didn’t care what kissing him felt like, she told herself firmly.

“Yes,” she told him. “I would be.”

“What do you say,” he proposed, pushing a strand of hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her ear, “just for the sake of this charade, and to get it out of the way, we go through the motions of this first-kiss thing?”

She tossed her head, freeing the newly tucked strand of hair. “Syndrome.”

He gave a careless, impatient shrug. “Yes, that.”

“Well—” she pretended to consider “—I guess there won’t be any disappointment involved, seeing as how I’m not anticipating anything.”

“A win-win situation,” he replied.

She was about to ask exactly what he meant by that when he leaned in, took her face in his hands and then pressed his lips against hers.

She was expecting something simple and braced herself for the usual disappointment. Though what came next was anything but disappointing.

Chapter Seven

H
er skin on fire, her mind gone, Kara could feel herself free-falling.

Or was she actually just leaning into him as she desperately attempted to absorb every beat, every nuance of whatever this was that was happening?

And all because Dave had upped the ante, increasing the depth and scope of what had been, up until this very moment, a cherished if somewhat disappointing ritual.

This wasn’t even a real date, for pity’s sake. The realization drummed through her head and then vanished.

Maybe, Dave thought, he was just trying to get this over with. Or maybe, his ego battered, he was attempting to teach the brat from his childhood a lesson not to write him off so cavalierly.

It might have started out being a little bit of both. He really didn’t know, couldn’t remember. What he did know was that he could almost literally
feel
his blood rushing madly through his body. Could feel a cache of needs suddenly come spilling out, tumbling to the foreground. All while his head was spinning like an old-fashioned top, snatching away his breath, not to mention his better judgment. Hell, snatching away any kind of judgment at all. Because if he’d had a shred of that left, he would have backed away.

Instead, rather than fleeing, he was moving forward, reaching out for the mind-scrambling experience—and for her—so that he could continue this. Whatever the hell
this
was.

The closest thing he could liken it to was being drunk. He’d been in that state only once before and had vowed never to be like that again. He didn’t enjoy the feeling nor the fact that he was not in control of his own actions.

Just the way, Dave realized with a start, he wasn’t in control now. And though that deeply offended his sense of order, the rush kissing this woman created was instantly, incredibly, completely addictive.

All he could think of was getting more. And that there had to be a way to make it never stop.

Those desires and passions that had risen up within him were demanding he do something about them. Demanding that he explore exactly what it was that this otherwise exceedingly irritating woman with a face like a mischievous angel and a body that could lead a man happily to sin was doing to him. Then do it back to her. In spades.

But the edge of his cousin’s block was not the place to find out, his common sense insisted.

And so, even though his body was begging for satisfaction, Dave summoned every ounce of strength within him and abruptly pulled his head back. He was surprised that his neck didn’t snap.

He saw confusion and wonder in Kara’s bright blue eyes—why hadn’t he ever noticed how blue her eyes were before? They seemed to delve into him and go beneath all the layers he’d carefully placed between himself and the world, leaving him not just naked but in the state he hated most of all.

Vulnerable.

He did his best to sound nonchalant, as if his insides were not still on fire. “Well, we got that out of the way.”

The words hit her like a water balloon, and it took Kara a second to find her tongue. And then another second more to remember words and how to form them.

“Yes,” she agreed, her throat so tight it was almost choking her, “we did.”

Didn’t you
feel
anything, you bum?
her mind screamed.

She felt as if she’d been fried to an absolute crisp, and he looked as if he’d endured something necessary, but annoying, like an inoculation against the flu.

Because she had a very uneasy feeling that she might fall over and pass out if she didn’t get in more than a trickle of oxygen, Kara drew in a deep breath as covertly as possible. It helped.

A little.

Stealing a look at Dave to see if he was the
least
bit rattled, she felt the bitter bite of disappointment. And then she thought she saw a bead of sweat at his temple. Unless the man had suddenly come down with a fever—and even that could act in her favor—the bead of sweat meant that she had gotten to him.

It seemed only fair since he had gotten to her. Big-time. Not that she was ever,
ever
going to admit that to him. Not even under penalty of death, she tacked on silently.

If she did, she
knew
it would lead to her undoing because the man would take to crowing about it and he would be utterly insufferable. Even more than he was right now, Kara added.

And then he completely blew her away by asking, “Want to test-drive another one, in case the first kiss was just a fluke?”

He asked the question with no more emotion than if he were inquiring how she liked her eggs.

What she didn’t realize was that he was trying his very best to sound as nonchalant as possible. In reality, he was anything but. So much so that he doubted if he was actually fooling her.

She saw the uneasiness in his eyes. That trumped anything he had to say. It was at that moment that she knew she’d gotten to him.

Lifting her face up to his, a grin played along her lips as another, stronger dose of anticipation—this time fueled by knowledge—raced through her.

“I was always game for anything,” Kara reminded him, her eyes dancing.

That she was, he recalled. But he hadn’t been, especially not back then. He’d played it safe.

He didn’t want to play it safe now.

Dave slipped his arms around her and drew her to him ever so carefully. “I remember,” he replied, his voice low, his mind already trying to figure out how to survive the turbulent ride looming ahead.

Part of him was fervently hoping that the impact of that first kiss was, for some unknown reason, all in his imagination.

Part of him was hoping it hadn’t been.

Back away. Now!
something in his head screamed, and maybe he would have, except for the fact that the smile on her lips was daring him. Silently issuing a challenge.

God help him, he could never walk away from one of her challenges, even when he knew it was going to turn out badly for him. It was as if he was determined to prove something. Back then it was that he was at least as manly as she was, if not more. Now it was…

It was…

Hell, he didn’t know what it was or why he was doing this, only that he
had
to.

He had no choice.

It wasn’t a mistake, wasn’t a temporary foray into insanity, Kara thought as the impact of his mouth on hers hit her with the force of an exploding grenade. The next moment, she was lamenting the very same thing she’d just been glorying in. Because a tiny drop of common sense had returned and found her.

Why, of all the times she’d been in this situation, anticipating a first kiss and being so sadly disappointed moments later when there was no magic, did she have to feel it now?

Why
this
man of all men, for heaven’s sake?

Maybe because secretly, I always had a crush on him. Maybe, all this time, I’ve known that was the case and tucked it away in my heart.

Or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.

And the next moment, she didn’t know anything—except that this kiss was even better than the first one. That was something she would have said was utterly impossible—if she weren’t in the midst of experiencing it right now.

Every fiber of her being was melting into a puddle at his feet.

“Hey, you two, get a room!”

The glib comment, coming out of nowhere and followed by a chuckle, made Kara’s heart slam against her rib cage as she all but leaped away from Dave.

She was behaving like some inexperienced adolescent who was guilty of misconduct. Behaving like someone she didn’t know.

A lot of that going around,
Kara thought, upbraiding herself.

She was extremely annoyed, though more with herself than with Dave. But he wasn’t blameless in this, she thought, upset.

As her mental fog began to clear, Kara found herself looking up into the face of one of the party guests—a friend of Ryan’s father. If it wasn’t bad enough that he’d stumbled upon them in this compromising situation, the man was a priest to boot.

Despite the situation—or maybe because of it—there was a genial expression on the man’s face.

“Just so you know,” he told them, claiming the last car, located at the end of the block, “I’m available for impromptu weddings.” He punctuated his offer with a broad wink.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Dave replied a little stiffly.

Now
that
was the Dave she remembered and knew, Kara thought. The one who acted as if he had a pointy stick strategically positioned where the sun didn’t shine. Not the one who brought her blood up past the boiling point without even trying.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Kara tried to look relaxed.

“Nice to have met you, Father,” she said, referring to earlier at the party, hoping to get the focus off the present and the fact that he had found them hermetically sealed to one another.

“Same here,” he told her, taking her hand in both of his and shaking it. There was a definite twinkle in his eyes, visible even in the limited light. “I look forward to seeing you again,” he added, then his eyes shifted to include Dave. “Both of you.”

Dave had no choice but to nod. After all, the priest had just stumbled across them bringing new meaning to the term
kissing.

“See you around, Father Jack,” Dave said, hoping to urge the man along his way.

“I can only hope.” Father Jack chuckled as he got into his vehicle and then closed the door.

The moment mercifully interrupted, Dave did his best to view it as a last-minute reprieve. With that in mind, he shoved the incident behind him and out of sight.

“C’mon,” he said to Kara gruffly, “I’ll take you home.”

Home.

Kara nodded, deciding it was best if she didn’t speak just yet. Everything inside of her was still trembling, and she wanted to wait until it calmed down a little before trying to form words that made sense.

Because right now, she was feeling anything but sensible.

If she had been, she wouldn’t have been hoping that by taking her “home” Dave had meant he intended to continue what had been so suddenly interrupted.

Because she wanted to make love with him.

She upbraided herself again. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? This was Dave. Dave, who had been as squeamish as she had been reckless and brave, handling the slimy critters he wouldn’t pick up and then finding ways to torture him with them.

Kara stared straight ahead into the night, concentrating on getting herself under control. Beside her, she heard Dave put his key into the ignition and assumed they would be on their way in a moment.

The moment came and went, but they didn’t.

She looked at him. His profile was rigid. Now what? “Something wrong?” she asked.

Dave didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned his key again—and received the same exact results.

Nothing.

She heard him let out a long, deep, frustrated sigh. She waited for the obligatory curse words, but there were none. Impressed, she watched him in silence.

He gave starting the car a third try, this time with his foot on the accelerator, pressing down hard. A horrible sound pierced the night air, but his attempt made no difference. The vehicle wasn’t moving and had slipped into silence.

Her first thought was that Dave had run out of gas, and she glanced at the dashboard just in case. But the gauge claimed that there was over three-quarters of a tank still available.

Dave saw where she was looking and said with barely reined-in irritation, “No, I didn’t forget to put gas in.”

“Never hurts to check,” she told him cheerfully. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Nowhere, apparently,” she commented, frowning at the front of his sports car. “Pop the hood.” Her instruction was accompanied by a hand gesture aimed upward.

She was nothing if not animated, Dave thought. But instead of doing as she said, he started to get out of the car. Maybe he could help.

“No.” The single word snapped out of her mouth, sounding far too much like an order to please him. “Stay inside the car,” she told him. “I need you to pop the hood and then turn the key for me.”

Dave bristled. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, he thought, annoyed not so much with her as with his own lack of expertise when it came to things with engines and tires. He was the guy, damn it. He was supposed to be the one standing out there, issuing orders to her as he tried to diagnose what was wrong with the damn car. Their relationship was too new to be behaving like this.

He bit off a couple of words, swallowing them instead. When it came to cars, he had never had either the time or the interest to learn what it was that made them tick.

Or not tick.

“Pop the hood,” she instructed again, looking at him expectantly. When he didn’t comply, she came back to the driver’s side and peered into the car. “What’s the matter? Why aren’t you popping the hood like I told you to?”