Whirlwind (30 page)

“I knew you were sexy, but
good Lord
,” Jason said, after a long drink. “I don’t suppose you could save some of that for later? I’d like to survive dinner.”

I shrugged, promising nothing.

After another sip of water, he loosened his tie. He fingered the button at his throat, just as he had at the reception. Was that really only two days ago?

“Would you like some help with that?” I asked slyly.

His eyes locked on me, and he immediately cinched his tie back up. “No, thank you,” he said firmly and promptly polished off the rest of his water.

He cleared his throat and folded his hands together in front of him, denying my touch. “So you mentioned you had a summer job lined up in
San Jose
?” he asked lightly.

I tried not to laugh again, recognizing his attempt to turn the conversation toward something resembling small talk. “Yes, but it’s nothing special. For the last couple of years I’ve worked at the local library, helping out with the summer reading program. It’s really just something to do—the pay sucks. If I’m lucky I’ll sell an article or two to the neighborhood paper.”

Jason leaned forward. “You don’t need the money for school?”

I sat up a little straighter, startled by his question. “No. My parents planned for me to go to college since the day I was born, and they started saving then. My dad also left me some money specifically for school. He was adamant that I complete my education.”

Jason’s expression brightened. “I have a tough time believing your father had many harsh words for you.”

I laughed. “No, he didn’t. I’d needle him once in a while so he’d tell me about
his
college days. He had the best stories.” In my mind I heard Dad’s contagious laughter, which wasn’t so different from Jason’s. “I think the two of you would have gotten along very well.”

“If he didn’t shoot me first,” Jason chuckled.

My hand slid across the table to him, and he gave it a squeeze. I was having a tough time not touching him.

“True. You have corrupted his daughter quite thoroughly.”

“So what does your mom think of me?” Jason’s forehead creased slightly.

Does my mother’s opinion mean that much to him?
I squirmed a little, afraid to admit what I had, and hadn’t, told her. “She doesn’t know
what
to make of you. I haven’t gone into great detail about…you know…us.”

“Hmmm,” was his enigmatic reply.

The waiter returned with our dinner, thankfully ending that train of thought. My stomach growled at the grilled shrimp and scallops on my plate, but Jason’s bacon-wrapped filet mignon looked awfully appetizing too.

“Yours looks good,” we said in unison.

“How about we share?” Jason sliced his meat down the middle and slid half to the side. “It doesn’t really feel like we’ve only known each other only a couple of days, does it?” he asked.

Not nervous or self-conscious—well, except for the dress—I felt…at peace. “No, it doesn’t. You’re very easy to be with,” I said.

We exchanged samples, mmm-
ing
and
ahh-ing
when we tasted the food.

“So what classes are you taking this summer?” I asked after a sip of wine.

“It’s a very easy session for me, actually. Only General Ed classes are taught in the summer, so I have English Lit and Philosophy, and that’s it. I’ll see if one of the local bands needs a pianist this summer. If not, I might give lessons for a few weeks.”

He took another bite, and I tried to picture him teaching a ten-year-old how to play scales. I was surprised at how easily I could imagine it.

“Sounds like you aren’t hurting for cash, either,” I observed.

He chuckled. “No. I was lucky enough to win a scholarship that covers most of my expenses. My parents had big plans for me too, and they also saved up. Life’s been good for both me and Mitch,” he said.

We continued to chat about summer until the waiter cleared our plates. We ordered coffees in lieu of dessert, and I wondered what he had planned next. The PG-13 restriction on our date was about to expire.

Jason took a deep breath, glanced at me, then watched his finger circle the top of his wine glass. “Sounds like your summer is pretty flexible, Melissa,” he started.

“I suppose,” I said carefully. His seemingly offhand comment was reminiscent of the roundabout way he’d trolled for information in his emails.

He interlaced his fingers, distracted by his own movements.

Is
he nervous?
I braced myself for what he might say next.

“Have you ever thought about doing any traveling?” he asked.

I looked at him blankly. “Traveling?”

His eyes creased at my confusion. “I thought you might like to check out the Midwest, specifically a certain town in
Michigan
,” he said.

Caught completely off guard, I stared at him. “I…uh…I don’t have
that
much extra money, Jason. Airline tickets aren’t cheap.” My mind raced. I’d been given a reprieve until Friday, but now—what was he suggesting? “My mom…I…” I couldn’t untangle my conflicting emotions enough to form a coherent sentence.

Jason leaned toward me and touched my arm. “It’s just a thought, Melissa. That’s all.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Michigan
? Even my imagination failed me this time.

Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry I brought it up—forget I said anything.” He brought my hand to his lips. “Did I chase Naughty Melissa away?” He brushed his mouth across my wrist, his tongue lightly stroking my throbbing pulse.

Future be damned!
Naughty Melissa couldn’t care less; she wasn’t about to disappear. The distance separating me from Jason was quickly becoming unbearable.

“No, she’s definitely here.” As proof, I fished a single ice cube out of his water glass and dragged it down the exposed center of my chest.

Jason’s face turned red as he watched my fingers descend. Waving his hand at the waiter, he croaked, “Check, please.”

* * *

Minutes later we were driving down the narrow access road toward the freeway.

“What’s next? A steamy movie?” Could he have found a theater showing
Body Heat
somewhere nearby? Or
9½ Weeks
perhaps?

“Nope, no movie. Something quite different,” he said. The rhythmic clicking of the turn signal should have warned me, but I didn’t look up in time to see the sign announcing where we’d turned. We stopped in front of a group of mission-style buildings nestled against a hill. “Wait here for just a sec, okay?” he said. Before I could reply, he’d popped the trunk and hopped out.

I’d reached for the door handle when the trunk closed with a loud
thump
. When Jason opened my door, a bulging sack was hanging from one hand.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“You really don’t know?”

I shook my head.

“Let’s find out,” he said mysteriously and offered me his arm. He avoided the largest building, leading me into a smaller one tucked into the trees to the right.

The surprises continued when we entered what seemed to be a hotel gift shop. Jason led me through racks of wind chimes, lotions, and swimsuits to a desk in the back. I looked for some indication of where we were, finally finding a clue when we made it to the cashier. “Reservation for McAlister,” Jason announced, and I read the sign on the counter:
Welcome to Sycamore Springs.

My breath caught. A secluded resort hotel, Sycamore Springs boasted natural mineral springs that fed a set of hot tubs hidden on the hillside. I’d never been here before, but the place was a favorite make-out spot for many of the athletes I’d interviewed over the years.

Jason finished with the clerk and smiled broadly. “Shall we?” Consulting the map provided by the cashier, we followed a dimly lit trail up the hill. Every once in a while a faint light would mark a turn-off for one of the hot tubs, but all I could see was black. Occasionally we’d hear a giggle somewhere in the darkness. The path forked and we followed the sign marked Rendezvous. It led us to redwood deck, a wooden bench, and an empty hot tub.

A single light illuminated the controls for the water. Jason kissed my cheek, then set the bag down and knelt by the dials. Soon the water swirled and bubbled to life, filling the tub at my feet. With the flick of a switch, a faint glow emanated from the bottom. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the nervous excitement racing over my skin like sparks dancing on steel.

Jason pulled me close. “What do you think? Look like fun?” he whispered seductively.

I looked around, but I couldn’t see or hear another soul. “Fun? I suppose that’s one word for it. I’m assuming there are no swimsuits in the bag.” My hands ran up his jacket to his tie, and I began to finger the knot gently.

“No. Just towels and flip-flops. I didn’t think you’d want to walk back down the hill in heels.” He ran his fingers through my hair as he spoke, finding my barrette and unfastening it. After depositing it in his left jacket pocket, he pulled my face to his. “Swimsuits would just get in the way.” He traced my lips with the tip of his tongue.

My mouth opened to receive his, but he didn’t come closer; rather he backed away. I looked at him and pouted, but he slipped his jacket off, folded it, and set it on the bench. “It’s much warmer in the water,” he said, giving me a sly smile before he turned and removed his shoes and socks.

I slipped my shoes off and sat on the nearest bench to watch Jason undress. He didn’t look at me as he removed his tie, his long fingers making quick work of the offending knot. His shirt was the next to go; he was down to his slacks when he realized I was still dressed. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“Oh yes, I plan to, but I didn’t know dinner came with a show,” I said with a snicker.

“Are you looking for a show?” he teased, giving his hips a swivel as he unzipped his pants. I laughed, but as he slowly slid his pants down, I fell silent. There were no briefs tonight. There was nothing but skin, muscles, and beneath a tuft of dark curly hair…
him.

With a smile, Jason stepped out of his slacks and hung them over the back of the bench. My heart stopped when he moved toward me, completely naked, and leaned down.

“Show’s over,” he whispered, running a finger down the center of my dress and earning a standing ovation from my nipples. But then he turned away, leaving my hands hanging in mid-air as I reached for him. With a chuckle, he pulled a red bottle out of the bag and turned to the hot tub.

Sitting on the edge, he emptied the bottle into the water. The smell of sulfur was replaced with that of roses and strawberries. Jason glanced over his shoulder at me and grinned. “Better?”

“
Yeeeaah
…”

My answer caught in my throat when Jason’s broad shoulders flexed. Every muscle in his back tightened for an endless second while he balanced on his hands. In one smooth motion, he elongated his body and disappeared under the bubbles.

My mouth dropped open when he rose from the foam to face me. The water swirled around his navel, his perfectly defined arms shimmering as he pushed his dripping hair back. His hands ran down his face before falling back into the water. Glittery droplets cascaded over every hard ridge and taut valley of his body.