listening in.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips, trying to understand—and got distracted by the way he stared at her mouth. “I . . . I always listen.”
“This time it’s bothering me.” His gaze caught hers again. His voice lowered to a ferocious growl. His eyes narrowed. “I keep thinking of you instead of what I’m saying.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He glanced over her from head to toe. “You look great in that dress.”
The reporter cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?”
He likes my dress? Flustered, Jenna pushed off her stool and tried an uncertain smile. “I understand. It’s all right. I was getting hungry anyway.” She glanced at her watch. “Half an hour okay?”
Stan hesitated, appearing angry, then annoyed. Taking her totally off guard, he caught her around the neck and pulled her forward over the counter while he leaned in. Then, as if he had the right, as if he’d done it a million times, he put his mouth to hers, firm and warm, lingering, one heartbeat, two . . . and he lifted away. “Thanks.” No smile, no softness.
Jenna touched her lips, tingling from her mouth to her breasts and down into her womb. “Oh, uh . . .”
Face hard, expression harder, Stan went back to the reporter. “Now, where were we?”
The reporter said, “You were telling me about . . .”
In Jenna’s mind, the words trailed off. Who cared what they said? Stan had just kissed her. A brief, almost nonsexual kiss, except that she wanted to melt on the spot.
Knowing she needed a breath of fresh air and a few minutes to figure out what had just happened, she grabbed her purse and made a hasty retreat, pausing only long enough to put her CLOSED sign in the door so Stan and the reporter wouldn’t be interrupted.
At a fast clip, she went down the walkway to the Mom and Pop diner next door, on the corner of Jonathan Ave. and Winesap Lane. She darted inside. There were a few customers present, the normal lunch crowd, but no one paid her any attention. And thank God, because she just knew she breathed too fast and looked the fool.
Hand pressed to her heart, Jenna glanced around and located an empty booth in the very back, away from windows and other patrons. Normally reserved for the few smokers who came into the diner, it stayed almost abandoned, and so that’s where Jenna headed. She needed the privacy, and the lack of prying eyes would help her get collected.
Legs shaking, she hurried over to the plastic seat and slid in. Her mind in a riot of mayhem, she covered her mouth.
Just what had happened? One minute, Stan was merely a friend, then in the next, he’d kissed her. Or had he meant it as a friendly gesture and she, being a widow with desperate clichéd lust, read more into it than she should have? Whatever it meant, wow, what a hot smooch. She’d always known it’d be that way, that with Stan, every sense would be magnified and a simple kiss could never be simple. No two ways about it, the man turned her on, always had.
But being a mother took priority over everything else, making an affair taboo. No matter what she felt for Stan, all she could indulge were fantasies. Now, if Stan was the type who wanted to settle down and enjoy domestic bliss . . . but he wasn’t. She might be half in love already, but Stan Tucker didn’t feel the same way.
She’d do well to remember that one small fact.
Ten minutes later, the waitress noticed Jenna buried in the corner and, full of good spirit and sunshine, hustled over to take her order. Jenna finally shook off her daze. She didn’t want anyone else to read the carnal hunger on her face. For crying out loud, at her age, with her family responsibilities, she had to be very discreet about her shameful hankering for one very hot landscape and gardening expert.
“Hey, Jenna.” Marylou Jasper, an eighteen-year-old working toward college funds, pulled out her white pad and a pen. Because the owner of the diner liked to experiment with new things, they didn’t offer a regular menu. On any given day, it was anyone’s guess what would be served.
Trying to appear normal, rather than ravaged with lust, Jenna smiled and said, “What do we have today, Marylou?”
“I just made a pot of coffee, the peach pie is still hot, croissants are fresh from the oven, and we have some really awesome chicken salad to go with them. There’s also chili, hamburgers, and lunchmeat sandwiches. So what can I getcha today?”
Maybe food would help settle the churning in her stomach. Jenna smiled. “The chicken salad on a croissant, a pickle slice or two, please, and a diet cola.”
Marylou rolled her eyes. “Why you always wanna drink that nasty diet stuff, I’ll never understand.”
Of course she couldn’t understand. Being a typical eighteen-year-old with a slender body and not an ounce of fat, Marylou could eat anything she fancied. Her brown hair shone with natural highlights, and her blue eyes were always smiling. Jenna had no doubt the girl could have her pick of beaus. “That’s because you’re young and shapely, but I’m old and—”
“Very shapely.”
Ohmigod. At the sound of that rough male voice, Jenna stiffened. Eyes wide, heart hammering madly, she swiveled around to see Stan stepping past Marylou. Without an invitation, he joined her at the booth, placing his perfect body on the opposite bench, directly in front of her.
Sexual tension, thick as soup, suddenly hung in the air. Marylou just stood there, her mouth gaping, her eyes going back and forth with a ping-pong effect.
Unconcerned, Stan glanced up at her and said, “I’ll have whatever Jenna ordered—but make my cola nondiet.”
“Oh.” Marylou shook herself. “Right.” Then with a big fat smile, “I’ll get right on the order.” And whistling, she took herself off with telling haste, no doubt on her way to the kitchen to relay a whole lot more than a simple order.
Confused, excited, giddy with expectation, Jenna soaked in the sight of Stan. She savored the wild beating of her heart, the dryness in her mouth, and the curl of excitement deep inside her. It had been so long since she’d felt such wonderful things.
Stan smiled with shrewd calculation. “The interview finished early.”
Jenna wondered if he’d rushed through it. She cleared her throat. “After that unexpected compliment . . .” She hesitated. What if he hadn’t meant it as such? What if instead, he’d been remarking on her weight? She could stand to lose a few pounds—
“A compliment you deserve,” Stan interjected, his gaze intent on her face. “Your figure is spectacular.”
“Oh.” A blush of happiness warmed her from the inside out. “Well, thank you. But you realize Marylou is going to start some ripe gossip.”
Reaching across the booth, Stan took her trembling hand, holding her firm. “Gossip implies rumor or hearsay.” His rough fingers moved over her palm. “But if what she says is true, how can it be gossip?”
Two
Damn, he liked the way Jenna’s cheeks warmed and how her fast breathing shimmied her breasts. And that tiny pulse fluttering in her throat gave everything away, even if he didn’t have access to her every emotion and sensation.
Stan brushed his fingertips over her palm again, felt the undulating wave of growing response that rolled through her, and he pushed up from his seat.
At the same time, Jenna pressed her shoulders back in the booth, not out of disinterest, but from utter surprise. That didn’t deter Stan at all, not when he knew she wanted him, that her longing was so strong it scared her a little.
Holding her hand so she couldn’t completely retreat, he leaned over her, hesitated with his mouth a breath away from hers, building