Finding Mr. Right

Without thinking Tyra reached over and patted his hand. “Were you really feeling depressed?”

“Yeah. If things aren’t going right, I usually fix them. Right now, I’m feeling better.”

She thought it best not to comment, but still, the idea that she could make a man like Byron Whitley forget about whatever was bothering him was good for her self-confidence. She wanted to hug him.

She knew she’d better be on her guard with this man. She slid down in the comfortable leather seat. What the hell, she said to herself. I’m thirty-one, and it’s time I did some living.

She’d thought he would take them to a place nearby, but since she lived on the outskirts, he began driving in a different direction

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask where we were headed.”

“I knew you were taking us to a place that sold ice cream. What else did I need to know?”

He parked and turned to her. “You’re growing on me. So you’d better be careful.”

“Thank you for warning me.”

She wasn’t prepared for the cozy, romantic atmosphere inside the massive ice-cream cone-shaped shop. Under hanging lanterns, white pillar-candles were nestled in arrangements of yellow, red and blue nasturtiums atop wrought-iron marble-top tables. Soft music filled the air. With his hand pressed against her back, Byron guided her to a table with a view of the moonlit sky.

They seated themselves, and he picked up a menu. “Whatever flavor you can imagine is here. What would you like?”

“As much as I love ice cream, I feel as if I can’t eat anything. I mean, Byron, it’s so…perfect.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased, but I’ll be disappointed if you don’t have some.”

“I know, but not to worry. The chance of my leaving here and not tasting any ice cream is close to nil. I’ll bet they don’t have pomegranate ice cream.”

A grin flashed across his face. “Let’s see. Last time I was here, it was on the menu, and it was delicious.”

“I’ll have a double cone.”

“Good. That’s what I’ll start with.” He called the waitress. “Two double scoops in a cone of pomegranate, please. I’ll get an apricot cone for dessert.”

If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for him. The waitress brought their ice cream and some napkins. Tyra ran her tongue over the ice cream, closed her eyes and savored the rich creamy dessert.

“This is fan—” She stopped in the middle of the word. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into pools of naked desire. She put the cone on the plate that the waitress had placed in front of her.

“Byron—”

“It’s all right. You caught me off guard. Aren’t you going to finish your ice cream?”

She nodded, and as soon as the ice cream touched her lips, her discomfort disappeared. She reached across the table and stroked the back of his hand. He turned his hand over and caressed hers. It was too much.

“Byron, tell me why you called me tonight.”

“I’ve always been a loner, Tyra. I have always been that way. I enjoy being with people who are interesting to me in some way. But I liked the peace and quiet of being alone. I always did my best thinking walking in the park or in the woods by myself. Tonight, I suddenly felt lonely. I sat in my den trying to work, and suddenly I felt so alone that I couldn’t stand it. And you were the only person that I wanted to see. You can’t imagine how happy I was when you suggested we get together.”

“I see.”

“I won’t ask what you are thinking.” He leaned forward. “Can we spend some time together? I mean a lot of time. Is there a man in your life?”

“The answer is no.”

“Do I stand a chance with you?”

“Well, I haven’t left my house at night on the spur of the moment to go any place with a man other than you.”

He sat back in his chair and gazed into her eyes as if to make certain that he had heard her correctly. “Not only do you and I have a lot in common, but there’s something else important going on here. At first I thought it was just physical attraction. But you’ve quickly proved me wrong. And it isn’t one-sided, either. Are you willing to explore it?”

“What can I say? The same feeling that hit you hit me. But let’s go slowly.”

“You’re telling me not to rush you?” She nodded. “All right, I won’t,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “but I certainly won’t take things so slow that you’ll think I’m dragging my feet.”

“Would you mind spelling that out?” As soon as she said it, his expression brightened, and she wished she hadn’t asked him to explain.

He leaned forward, his eyes twinkled, and a smile—just short of salacious—framed his lips. “I mean, when I kiss you, I won’t pour it on. I’ll make it sweet and tender, and when I touch you and stroke you, I won’t be too possessive. I’ll be careful.”

For a full minute, he had her spellbound. She thought of him sinking into her body. Her fingernails scored the palms of her hands, and the pain brought her back to her senses.

She stood. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

“Of course,” he said. He paid the bill, took her hand and walked with her to his car. On the drive back to her house, they didn’t talk. He put a CD into the player, and the sound of Chet Atkins’s guitar enveloped them. Byron parked in front of Tyra’s house and walked her to the door.

“Give me your key, please.” She did, and he opened the door, walked in with her and closed it. “You made me feel special tonight,” he said. “You were there for me.” His left hand stroked the side of her face, and his right hand held her arms, eased across her back and gathered her to him.

She knew he meant to kiss her, and she wanted it so badly that she could hardly wait. Her heart beat so wildly that she feared she would faint. His eyes darkened. When he lowered his head, she rose on tiptoe to meet him. He ran the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips, testing them. She opened her mouth and sucked him in. His groan stunned her. A prickly sensation shot through her, making her tremble uncontrollably. He gathered her into his arms and held her there.

“I’d better go while I still have my sanity,” he whispered after some minutes. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

She kissed his lips. “Drive carefully. You’re carrying precious cargo.”

“I promised not to rush you, but if you say things like that to me, keeping my word won’t be easy. I won’t be like a long distance runner but more like a sprinter.”

She floated up the stairs in a world of her own. If he could make me feel like that with just a kiss…I could be wrong, but how do I know he’s the one? But before I get involved with him, shouldn’t I see what else is out there?

Chapter 3

Byron drove three blocks, stopped and put the car in park. Overwhelmed, he hadn’t reached his car before he wanted to turn around and go back to her. What the devil was wrong with him? He was his own man—always had been. But this sudden need for a woman he’d seen three or four times boggled his mind. He wasn’t upset. He just couldn’t understand it. He’d never felt about any woman the way he felt about her. It was if some vital part of him was missing the moment he left her. He shook his head, put the car in gear and continued home. It was probably a fluke. But she made him feel so good. God, please let it be real.

He hadn’t told Tyra about Andy. She didn’t know he had a son and, until that moment, he hadn’t thought it important. But it was. For if his feelings for her persisted, his having a child could become an issue. He’d have to do something about that, and soon.

He drove into his garage and entered his house through the passageway that connected the garage and the kitchen side door. Vowing not to allow anything to spoil his good mood, he took a bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator, sat down in the family room, kicked off his shoes and flicked on the television. He switched between late-night talk shows, but didn’t see or hear much of either. Tyra had seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. Lord, she was so sweet. And she had an air of innocence that didn’t seem to fit with what he knew about her.

He remembered that he’d promised to call her and looked at his watch. A quarter to twelve, twenty minutes since he left her house, but too late to phone. But if he didn’t call, she’d probably think he wasn’t a man of his word. He dialed her number and prayed that the phone wouldn’t ring in anyone’s room but hers.

When she answered the phone by saying “Hi,” he knew he’d done the right thing.

“I almost didn’t call, because I was afraid I might awaken you or your family. But I didn’t want you to think of me as unreliable. I’ve been thinking about you, and about us, and I can hardly believe that I had you in my arms. If it doesn’t happen again and soon, I’ll think I imagined it.”