Terms of Surrender

He took her hand in his larger one, and she forgot to breathe for a second, wondering why such a simple touch made her shiver. His skin was warm, his grip firm, the fingers strong and the palm rough. And he didn’t let go right away, hesitating for the briefest moment, as if he, too, were savoring the first connection of skin-on-skin.

Their stares met. He’d pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head and the late afternoon sunshine brought a brilliant gleam to those amber eyes. The gentle smile of pleasure on his face told her so many things—that he was glad to have met her, that he had wanted to ask her out, that he did look forward to getting to know her.

That he was interested. Maybe even as interested as she was. And she, being totally honest with herself, was very interested. More interested in him than she’d been in any man for a very long time.

They might have nothing in common, might not know each other, but they definitely had sparks. Electricity. Plus he was kind, thoughtful…and sexy as hell. Anyone with a fully functioning vagina would be interested.

Finally releasing her hand, he said, “Can I admit I was grateful for your dead battery?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It saved me from having to dump a box of nails in the parking lot, hoping you’d run over them and flatten a tire, so I’d have to help you out.”

She laughed softly, liking that he’d been so serious about seeing her again…even if his methods sounded a little outrageous. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d acted on them.

“Mental note. Potential stalker,” she said, her tone wry.

“I just know a good thing when I see it.” He lowered his voice to add, “You’re somebody I want to get to know better.”

“Why? Because I’m nervy enough to park illegally at a naval academy?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, his mouth quirking higher on one side. That twinkle reappeared and he seemed wickedly amused as he added, “Plus, I just have to know more about a girl who takes off her underwear and leaves them in her car right before a big job interview.”

DANNY PROBABLY SHOULDN’T have said anything about finding Mari’s undergarments in her glove compartment. He’d caught her off guard, and the gentleman he’d claimed to be definitely wouldn’t have brought it up. He could easily have pretended he had never seen a thing, saving both of them from embarrassment.

But Danny was ungentlemanly enough that he couldn’t help it. Mari was just too sexy to resist, and too contradictory not to try to figure out.

He couldn’t deny he’d been very curious about her even before he’d found the wadded-up ball of fabric in her car. And once he had? Whoa. Reaching in for the manual to check the engine specs and winding up with his hand covered in soft, silky, woman-scented material had been a delightful shock. He’d already been sure he wanted to get to know her better. That surprising discovery had changed the very meaning of the word know to a much more carnal variation.

It hadn’t taken a lot of imagination to put everything together and figure out what she’d done. There’d been their previous conversation, her nervousness, the way she’d been fiddling around in her car when he’d first come out to warn her away from the Employees Only parking lot.

He had to admit, he hadn’t been sure how she would react when he told her she’d been busted. But she hadn’t slapped his face or stalked away or cussed him out.

She’d groaned once. Her pretty face had turned a little bit pink. Then she’d burst into laughter, as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Even now, several seconds later, unrestrained giggles erupted from her lips as she tried to explain.

“You…aren’t supposed to know that!”

He wagged his eyebrows. “I didn’t, not 100%. Not until you just confirmed it, anyway.”

She slapped her palm against her forehead. “I can’t believe I fell for it. I should have pretended I had no idea what you were talking about.”

“That might have worked, but, uh, I was pretty sure. Now, fess up…is that what we were really talking about earlier?”

“’Fraid so.”

Remembering everything he’d said before, he added, “So you thought I was offering to get in your car and, what, give you directions on how to pull up your own underwear?”

“Something like that.”

He snorted. “The day I need to use a line like that is the day I trade in my single-man-on-the-prowl club card.”

Her smile might have faded the tiniest bit. “Are you?”

“Am I what? Single?”

“And on the prowl?”

Knowing she was questioning her own instincts, wondering if he was some kind of sleazy on-the-make playboy, he answered her truthfully. “Yes and no. I’m single, but I haven’t been accused of prowling since I was ten and played my last game of Ding-Dong-Dash at old Mrs. McCurdy’s house.”

“Ding-Dong…”

“You know. Ring the doorbell and run? Didn’t you ever play that as a kid?”

She shuddered. “I grew up on military bases. No doorbells. And not much of a sense of humor from most of the guys who lived behind those doors.”

“Yeah, well, old Mrs. McCurdy didn’t laugh much, either.”

One corner of her mouth went up. “You got caught?”

“Uh-huh. She was pretty spry for being on the verge of mummification.”

Tsking, she shook her head. “Couldn’t outrun an old lady. Bet your friends didn’t let you live that one down.”

“Nope, even though they all bailed on me when she grabbed me by the back of the shirt and dragged me into the house so she could call my parents.”

“Uh-oh. Sounds like the opening of a horror movie on the Chiller channel.”

“Just about. Get this, while we waited for my folks to show up, she made me look at her poor, swollen feet to show me how horrible I’d been to make her get up to answer the door.”

“Eww!”

“Tell me about it. Old lady feet—is there anything worse to a ten-year-old boy?”

“Bet you never rang any doorbells and ran again,” she quipped.

He held his fingers up in a Scout’s promise. “Not once.”

“She sounds like a smart old lady.”

His lips quirked. “She was. I felt so guilty afterward I always brought her paper up onto her porch instead of tossing it into the driveway.” Then he added, “And she definitely taught me a lesson.”

“About ringing doorbells?”

“About feet. If you ever need something to kill a fleeting moment of happiness, or a glimmer of sexual interest? Just think of old feet.”

“Noted. But for the record, I happen to have great feet and I don’t intend to let that change.” Her smile was bright and comfortable, as if she’d finally let down all guard, and was being completely herself for the first time since they’d met.

“Great feet, huh? Most people wouldn’t claim that.”