Blind Date

Annie nodded. “Anyway, tonight isn’t the first time he’s pulled something like this. He made that huge scene out there because he wanted to kiss me instead of that sweet little redheaded girl,” Annie sighed, listening to the sounds of the party, still going strong just outside the kitchen door.

“Now she’s sweet, not fat?”

The sound of his chuckle delighted her, but his comment made curl inward. “I was making a point. Let me tell you, it was for his sake, not hers.”

“It was quite a point. Game. Set. Match. But I think you may have missed your target. That’s the thing about going for the win like that. You need to have good aim.” His fingers worked their way down her spine, his other hand fanning her hair out over his thighs.

“Ouch.”

Eric’s hands paused. “Am I hurting your head?”

“No…my heart.”

He continued to rub her head in the silence, and slowly she found that the pain, at least the pain in her head, seemed to dissipate.

This time it was Eric who broke the quiet. “So, do you get along with your sisters?”

“I love them. Sometimes I can’t stand them, but I love them. They both set up this whole Valentine’s party to try to get me a man.” Annie giggled at the irony.

She was now secreted in the kitchen with a matchmaker, despite her sisters’

Herculean efforts to line up all the single surgeons, tax attorneys and actuaries they could find-courtesy of Rebecca’s once-famous little black book.

“Sounds like you can get your own.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds, actually,” she told him. “Ow, ow, too hard.” His touch became lighter, almost feather-light, and it made her shiver. “Most men just want one thing.”

“What’s that?” He sounded distracted as his hand stroked her shoulder.

“Um…”

“Oh, that. Right.”

Again, she could hear his smile. She had never noticed how much one could tell about someone’s expression even in the dark. That would make therapy interesting.

“And if I’m being honest, it’s not even that. I’m not averse to sex,” she admitted.

“Good to know.” It was a veritable grin now.

She smiled, too, letting that one slide. “If we could get to the sex that would be great, actually. Most men are, well…intimidated by me.”

“Is it your gracious charm?” He stroked her cheek with his fingertip.

She couldn’t even pretend to be angry at him with his hands doing such kind and generous things to her body. “Don’t be mean. I’m really not like that.”

“I know,” he said, and she believed him.

“Still, it’s funny how sometimes the prettiest girl in the room never gets hit on. Both of my sisters are married, and I’m by far better looking-at least that’s what everyone says.”

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were conceited. Who is everyone?” He traced the shape of her jaw, trailing his fingertip down her throat.

“I’m not conceited. Maybe I do sound it…to someone…like you…” she hesitated. “I just mean, you know, someone who feels like he wants to hide under a table…”

“Who is everyone?” he asked again.

“Oh, everyone.” She sighed. “You name it-my parents, my sisters, teachers, friends, family. The thing people say most often about me is: ‘Annie is the pretty one.’ It’s always followed by that silent assumption that I’m an idiot.”

“Hence the degree in psychology,” he mused. “Let me guess, you’ve got a doctorate.”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Law of compensation.”

“Very funny. So, do you have a degree in matchmaking, then?” Annie rested her hand on his thigh and snuggled up a little closer. The tile was getting cold under her hip and his warmth was comforting.

“They didn’t offer it where I went.”

“And where is that?”

“Olympia.”

Annie snorted, letting her Ivy League pretension show. “Are you kidding?

Did you really go to Olympia? Which degree, medical transcription or vet tech?”

“Massage therapist.”

“Oh…” Annie tried to cover yet another unintentional, but clear, insult.

“Well, that explains why my head feels so much better.”

“Does it? Would you like me to do your shoulders? You’re pretty tight.”

“Eric, that’s gotta be the oldest line in the book for you massage therapists.” She laughed. Looking up at him, she could see the outline of his face-and yes, there were glasses-but she still couldn’t really make out his features.

“Perhaps.” This time she saw the flash of his teeth.

She smiled back. “Well, it’s working.”

“Then come here and sit between my legs.” His voice was warm and inviting and she flushed like a school girl as she delicately felt her way over his thigh, sensing him adjust to her shape as she settled herself.

“I haven’t been between a man’s legs…”

“In too long, I’d gather.” He chuckled.

The sound of his short laugh was rich and deep and it thrilled her again.

She wondered what he would sound like if he really laughed out loud and she longed to hear him do so. His hands massaged her shoulder blades open as if they were wings she was just beginning to spread. She sighed, rolling her neck and inching back toward him. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she clutched his thighs.

“I take back what I said about Olympia,” she murmured. “Great school.”