What Phoebe Wants. Cindi Myers

“You don’t understand now, but one day you will. Of course, right now, younger women for you are in high school.”

      He leaned back against the booth. “I’ve always been partial to older women.”

      “Then go visit the nursing home.”

      He grinned. “Touchy, touchy. You know what I mean.”

      The arrival of our pizza saved me from having to find an answer to that. Jeff was telling me he was interested in me and I couldn’t deny the powerful physical attraction I felt for him.

      As we worked our way around the pizza, I turned the conversation to safer topics. I found out Jeff owned the company that distributed the software I was going to be using, as well as a number of other medical and dental programs. He had a small office with a few employees and spent most of his time in medical offices, selling or setting up new systems.

      “Is every office as much of a soap opera as ours?” I asked.

      “Pretty much.” He looked thoughtful. “They’re mostly women, you know, so it’s always interesting for a new man to enter in to the mix.”

      “I’d think you’d enjoy the attention.”

      His grin returned. “Oh, I do. I certainly do.”

      He managed to eat most of the large pizza, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him that I could see. I’d confined myself to two pieces and hoped all that cheese wouldn’t translate itself into an extra inch on my hips by Friday.

      It was almost nine o’clock by the time Jeff drove me home. I sat against the passenger door, staring out at the dark streets and thought of all the times some boy had driven me home from a date in high school. I had the same feeling now, that sort of jittery, sick-to-my-stomach sensation, anticipating whether or not he would kiss me, and what I would do if he tried. You’d think, at my age, I’d be over that kind of nervousness, but apparently it had come back to haunt me, like post-adolescent acne.

      I had my door open seconds after the truck turned into my drive, but Jeff was almost as quick. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he said.

      He came around the truck and tried to take my arm, but I shied away. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      “Nothing.” I fumbled in my purse, looking for my keys.

      “You’ve been jumpy all evening. What’s your problem? What is it about me that you especially don’t like?”

      “It’s not you in particular,” I said, and headed up the walk. “It’s just…I haven’t had the best of luck with men lately.”

      “Not all men are jerks like your husband.”

      I thought of Dr. Patterson and the man who groped me in the elevator. “Just most of the ones I know.”

      I started to unlock the door, but he covered my hand with his own. “I’m not like them.”

      I sighed. “You say that, but your mind works like theirs.”

      “How can you say that? You don’t even know me that well.”

      He was leaning very close, and his eyes were dark with a desire that both frightened and thrilled me. “I know you’re probably going to try to kiss me right now,” I whispered, any intention I’d ever had of refusing him vanished from my mind.

      He took a step back and shook his head. “I don’t think so. The mood you’re in, you’d probably bite my lips off.”

      He turned away and I sagged against the door. “Good night, Phoebe,” he called when he reached his truck.

      When he was gone, I let myself inside. I told myself I’d talked my way out of a tight spot. After all, I really didn’t want to start anything with Jeff.

      But the part of me that never lied wished I’d let him kiss me.