Love and Romance, etc.
A Free Newsletter for romance novel lovers
By Bonnie Williams
Episode 8
Groveling in the Park
He’d really blown it. And the worse part was—he didn’t know why. The human female never failed to baffle Blake, so he temporarily chalked it up to a woman’s right to change her mind, or whatever his mom used to say.
He was relieved to see Emma’s little black SUV still in the diner parking lot. If she was on foot, she couldn’t have gone too far.
Blake found her several blocks away in Fountain Park sitting on a bench with her knees drawn up to her chest. He hadn’t realized until now how much her approval had meant to him. Good job, pal. You’ve blown that out of the water. And his confusion gnawed at his confidence as he approached her.
But then he saw her unusually casual attire and chuckled to himself and remembered why he wanted her in the first place. There was a spark of defiance in Emma that drew him to her. “You know, Curly’s always been my favorite, too,” Blake said.
He saw her flinch at the sound of his voice. When she looked up, he saw hesitation in her eyes.
As casual as he could manage, without laying his ego out for her to squash, Blake asked, “What happened back there, Emma?”
She sighed, then placed her chin on her drawn up knees. “I had this little black ‘first date’ get-up I was going to wear. When you called I dumped the whole idea and threw on a pair of jeans.” She turned her head and looked at him. “I was angry at you. I mean, Ben’s Diner? I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Blake sat on the bench next to her, keeping a safe distance so as not to alarm her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to pick you up.” Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. He didn’t want to trouble Emma with his problems, but when he searched for a plausible explanation, other than the truth, he came up with zip. “There was an urgent matter at home that couldn’t be avoided,” he finally said.
When she didn’t respond, he simply laced his fingers together and leaned his elbows on his knees. He wished he could offer her a better explanation, but one question would eventually lead to another. How could he tell her about himself, or his family, when most of the time he refused to acknowledge his problems to himself? He couldn’t just blurt out “Oh and by the way, Emma, did you know I’m—what? A cop without a uniform? A millionaire with no money? A loser?” Yeah, right. That would go over well.
Blake looked around at the expanse of the park. “You know, the city is pretty strict about the close-at-dusk hours here.” Once a cop, always a cop. He carefully reached out his hand and placed it on one hers. “We’d better go before they arrest us for park loitering.”
“They do that?” she asked.
“Yeah, they do,” he said as he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. He detected a faint smile on her lips and it brought a strange surge of affection from deep inside his chest.
“Thank you, for what you did,” she said softly.
“Did I really blow it?”
She shook her head, “No, Blake. I did. And I owe you an apology. I…” She groaned as she hid her face against her knees. “You see, you don’t know my mother—”
“Was she there in the diner?” he asked.
“No, but she may as well have been. She knows everyone in town.”
“You’re not making sense—not that I mind. I like the sound of your voice.”
She let out a soft laugh. “She has this way of planting doubt in my head.”
“Doubt about what? Me?” he asked. Us? he wanted to ask.
She shrugged and lowered her gaze from his. “About anything that doesn’t fit in this box of perfection she keeps her world in.” She fiddled with her fingers. Blake thought it was curious seeing a nervous action coming from her. She always tried to remain so composed, so guarded around him that he found the gesture oddly endearing. “When you called and said to meet you at the diner, I thought my mother had been right. And I was angry that she was.” She sighed and her shoulders sank forward as she drew herself into a ball. “So I threw out the sex-kitten dress and threw on these ratty old jeans just to spite her for being right—and you for proving her so.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of spite for one pair of jeans. So what made you change your mind—why’d you run out on me?”
Emma rocked back and forth like a little Weeble toy as she seemed to contemplate her thoughts. “You have to understand. I was taught to avoid any and all unpleasant social situations in order to keep a positive face in public. Unfortunately, much to my mother’s dismay, I tend to freeze up when put on the spot, and I act too impulsively. If she saw me right now, she’d say I was disgracing the family by wearing clothes fit for a car washer.”
She let go of her legs and let her feet drop to the ground. “The whole time I was there in the diner, I kept thinking ‘I hope my mother never finds out’ and then I heard everyone whispering and staring at me. And then, I just freaked out. I’m sorry. It really wasn’t your fault.”
“Well, I’m relieved. You’ve just restored my wounded manhood.” They both laughed and it broke the tension that had been building all evening. His stomach growled and he was about to stand and offer to make her waffles at his place, but then she shifted and turned to look at him.
“Blake?”
“Yes, Emma.”
“Would you kiss me?”
Was she kidding? With those sparkling eyes and plump kissable lips, even a dead man would stand up and take notice. He slid closer to her, not touching, just looking. He wanted this one to last. He wanted to memorize her face, her full lips, then gazed deep into her eyes. Blake brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Not that you have to ask me twice,” he said as his voice deepened. “But would you say that again? Just to make sure I heard you correctly.”
“Kiss me,” she whispered as she put her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
Blake’s heart thundered against his ribs as if he’s never kissed a woman in his life. But when his lips touch hers he thought, maybe he hadn’t—until her. His fingers ached to touch every sensual inch of her, but he knew the minute he did it would be just like it was on her sofa. And wild sex in the public park wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind for tonight. So he clenched one fist at his side the other held tightly to the back of the bench, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of her soft lips against his. He moaned deeply when her tongue timidly asked for entrance. Not demanding and hungry—not like the last time. This was more of a caress and he let her take the lead.
She kissed him slowly, lingering, and he savored every taste, ever touch—achingly soft, sweet, and tantalizing—just like the woman herself. There was an intimacy to this kiss that left him weak in the legs, while the burning desire he felt for her simmered—waited.
The gentle massage of her delicate fingers against his neck sent currents of heat right to his growing erection, but he ignored it. Then her kiss grew surprisingly demanding—and his resistance broke.
Emma gasped into his mouth when Blake swept her off the bench and placed her sideways onto his lap. Her body landed painfully against his crotch, but he didn’t care. He felt drugged by the scent, the taste, and the touch of her. Her breasts pressed against him as he held her snugly, allowing his hands to explore the hollows of her back, the curve of her hips. Blake felt her arms tremble and her hips arch as she clung to him, sending jolts of pleasure to his sex.
“Emma,” he whispered as his lips reclaimed hers as he took over the kiss, crushing her to him. She gave him the reigns freely, giving in to the growing passion of his kiss. Blake thought they’d better stop soon before his dick tore a hole clear through his pants.
“All right, you kids,” shouted an authoritive voice. “Break it up and go on home.”
Ah shit. Blake tore his mouth from Emma’s and found himself staring into a blinding light. He knew that voice.
“Well, well. Blake Kensey,” the voice sneered as the light flicked away from their eyes.
Blake found himself staring into the eyes of his old nemesis. “Hello, Deputy Hicks.”
THE LONELY GUYS
Copyright© 2004 By Bonnie Williams
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