The Puppy Proposal

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Jillian hadn’t meant to go on and on about her childhood; she hated it when people felt sorry for her. But Nic didn’t look as if he pitied her. If anything, he looked thoughtful as she talked about Paradise, her adopted hometown. She found herself wondering what his hometown was like, but before she could ask he was signaling the waitress for the check. “No, I’m buying,” she protested. “We agreed. I’m treating you, to thank you for being Murphy’s knight in shining armor. And for helping Mrs. Rosenberg. “

“I changed my mind.” He handed his credit card to the waitress without even looking at the check. “What kind of knight lets the princess foot the bill? Besides, I’m the one who should be grateful. You stayed late to help a stranger—”

“Murphy isn’t a stranger—” she objected.

“No, but I was. And you didn’t know it was Murphy when you let me in. And you’ve kept me from eating alone or worse, falling prey to our waitress over there.” The woman in question was still making eyes at him, none too subtly.

“A fate worse than death,” she teased. “Better watch out, she’s headed our way.”

He just grinned, and signed the offered receipt without taking his eyes off Jillian. The waitress, realizing she was being ignored, practically stomped off. Not so perky anymore, Jillian thought, more pleased than she had a right to be.

She knew she had no claim on this gorgeous man, but she was enjoying his company, and the way he made her feel. He listened to her, really listened, and when he spoke, he was funny and engaging. And of course, he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. Several times she had embarrassed herself by staring at him; thankfully he didn’t seem to have noticed. She’d never been so quick to be attracted to a man before, but Nic had intrigued her from the first minute she’d seen him.

When he took her elbow to guide her down the steep stairs she didn’t object, nor did she protest when he opened her car door for her after she unlocked it with the remote. His actions were quaintly old-fashioned, and that appealed to her more than she would have expected.

She turned on the air conditioner as soon as she got in, hoping to relieve the oven-like temperature, zooming the windows down to let some of the hot air escape. Once on the road, she put them back up, cocooning them in a car that suddenly seemed quite claustrophobic. His scent permeated the air, some kind of aftershave or cologne that smelled clean yet spicy.

As she merged onto the main road, he reached over and rested a broad hand on hers where it gripped the gearshift. An innocent touch, but it had her pulse racing. All at once the drive to the Sandpiper felt too long and yet not long enough. She was still debating how to handle things when she pulled into the Sandpiper’s secluded parking lot.

Should she take her hand back? Kiss him? Let him kiss her? Or maybe she was misreading the whole thing, and the attraction was completely one-sided.

Confused, she turned to find him watching her, searing her skin with his gaze. Energy was radiating off him in waves. Frozen, she could only blink as he reached to brush a lock of hair from her face, twirling it around one finger. They both seemed to hold their breath as he gently tugged, then untwined it curl by curl.

She moistened her lips, and he shifted his attention to her mouth. Sensuously, he traced a finger over the swollen nerve endings, the sensation causing her eyes to flutter closed. There was a whisper of air as he leaned toward her, and then his mouth was on hers.

His kiss was gentle at first, a request, not a demand. But when her lips parted on a sigh he accepted the invitation, deepening the kiss. As his tongue teased, she reached for him blindly, finding his broad shoulders, clutching him to her, not wanting him to stop, not able to stop. Never had she experienced a connection like this. This was so far beyond a kiss; it was some kind of magic, and she never wanted it to end. Straining toward him, but trapped by the seat belt, she whimpered in frustration.

Immediately he let her go, backing away to his side of the car. “Did I hurt you?” His worried eyes darted over her, obviously mistaking her whimper for a sign of pain.

“No,” she managed, her voice shaky. “No, that definitely didn’t hurt.” Finding her composure, and realizing he really was concerned, she explained, “The seat belt was in my way.”

“Oh.”

She could see now that he was breathing as hard as she was. So she had affected him, too. A bit of feminine pride crept over her.

“Tomorrow. What are your plans tomorrow?” His tone was insistent, compelling her to respond.