She had decided she wasn’t going to try too hard. She wore her hair in the usual way—loose curls. Her makeup was the same as she’d put on for work every day. She did choose an extra nice pair of jeans, boots, crisp white blouse and blazer, however. Nothing special. They were just friends catching a movie.

When she opened the door for him, she found him just plain dreamy-eyed. “God, you look fantastic,” he said almost weakly.

And she burst out laughing.

“This is funny, how?” he asked.

“I don’t look any different. Well, the jacket, that’s a little different. You, on the other hand, are wearing pants. Not jeans but pants. Whew. Should I change?”

“Are you a little fidgety?” he asked, smiling at her.

“I haven’t been on a—” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t been a couple of friends catching dinner and a movie in a really long time.”

He stepped into her house, slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her very close and asked, “Did I give you too much to think about, Les?”

She looked up into those vivid blue eyes. She nodded, and she could tell he smiled because the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened a little bit.

“Then maybe we should just get it over with,” he said and came down on her mouth. He moved expertly; his bristles coaxed open her lips. His tongue tangoed with hers briefly; she made a little noise as her hands slid up his arms toward his shoulders. His kiss grew a little more penetrating; he pulled her a bit closer. Without leaving her lips, he whispered, “You taste good. Good.”

“You’re my first mustache,” she whispered back.

He lifted his brooding, thick brows. “Like it?”

She nodded, and he went in for the kill a second time, overpowering her lips, going deep, bending her back over his arm. He gently licked her upper lip, her lower lip, then devoured her once again. That was three, she thought. Three deep, wonderful, wet, hot, amazing kisses.

She was screwed. She wanted him. All of him.

“We should probably think about that movie,” he whispered.

“What movie?” she asked.

And he laughed, releasing her slowly so she wouldn’t collapse. She righted herself, grabbed her purse, left a kitchen light on for later and joined him at the front door.

“It’s harder now, being older and knowing the pitfalls and consequences, isn’t it?” he asked her. He held the front door for her. “I remember being sixteen, going out with a girl in a car for the first time and being pretty strung out, but more excited than scared.” He chuckled. “I should’ve been scared—she ate me alive. She wasn’t happy about too much—she didn’t like the movie, the food wasn’t right, she didn’t want to make out....”

She laughed at him. “Poor Conner.”

He opened the passenger door to the truck and helped her up and in. “I learned to pick ’em better after that.”

“Went straight for the ones who wanted to make out, huh?”

“Well, of course,” he said, slamming the door. He came around and joined her in the cab. “I didn’t pick you solely based on the making out aspect, though I do see the potential, it being your first mustache and all.”

“I never dated much. I had a couple of boyfriends before I met Greg, but nothing too serious. But I bet you always had girls.”

“Not always, just sometimes. I kept pretty long hours at work, it seemed. One short marriage.” He looked over at her. “I am going to tell you more about that, you know. But not tonight. I don’t want to spoil tonight. I want to have fun.”

“I understand completely. It’s been a year and a half for me, too. Not so much as a cup of coffee.” She let go a little laugh. “What a couple of go-getters we are.”

“But this isn’t really our first date,” he said. “More like our third with lots of contact in the middle. We had a couple of coffee dates, I’ve insulted you at least once, we had a flower planting date with a take-out dinner chaser, and this is a dinner and movie date. And we saw each other almost every day for three weeks until you moved the trailer. If we were in high school, that would equal carrying your books to class all week, then meeting you at the burger barn on the weekend with the gang....”

“Then making out,” she added.

He grinned at her. “Absolutely.”

Leslie found the nervousness of her first post-divorce date had gone within ten minutes of getting in the truck with him. Being with him was so easy. He had this gruff exterior and a deep sexy voice, but he had a very soft center. His honesty charmed her to the marrow of her bones. Everything about Conner seemed spontaneous and real as opposed to premeditated. He was what he was, take it or leave it.

The movie was a sci-fi thriller, very tense. When she gripped his arm, he put it around her shoulders and pulled her protectively close. When they went to a nice restaurant in Arcata, she spent the whole meal praising the food and telling him all the things she liked to cook; he told her everything he liked to eat. On the long drive home she talked about how much she’d like to travel more than she had, which was very little, while he talked about how little wanderlust he had. Home was all that mattered to him. If he could stay in the same place forever and always know where a couple of beers and his TV broadcasting pro football games would be, he’d be content.

“I love football,” she said. “But I’d still like to travel.”

“I’ve never really had the time or money for travel, but if I did, I can think of a few things I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“Like?” she pushed.

He shrugged. “The Super Bowl?”

She laughed. “I don’t know if we have a lot in common or nothing in common.”

“It’s really too soon to tell.” He parked the truck in front of her little house. He turned in his seat and faced her. “Let me come in, Les,” he said.

“Oh, right. The making out part,” she teased.

“Or coffee,” he said. “But I’m not done yet. Are you?”

“I am not,” she said, surprisingly happy about it.

He came around the truck to help her out. He lifted her to the ground. His arm around her waist both supported and hurried her, and when they were inside the house with the door closed, he swept her up to him, his lips on her lips, kissing her deeply once again as though he’d waited all night to do it. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave herself over to this kiss, wondering how she’d made it this long without it.

And that fast she decided—she was going to enjoy her life rather than subject herself to some kind of torture of denial to avoid ever being hurt again. If he wanted to devour her with these fabulous kisses, and more, she’d just have to endure it.

He backed off the littlest bit and said, “You have a very good mouth for this. Perfect, I think.”

“Are you just getting it out of the way again?” she asked.

“Nope. Just getting started. Do you have to listen to messages or let the cat out or anything?”

She shook her head. “Are we going to stand inside the door and make out?”

“I could. Where do you want to make out?”

She thought about saying the bed. Or the shower. Or maybe up against a wall? “Sofa?” she asked.

“You don’t sound too sure,” he said, slipping the blazer from her shoulders. He shed his lightweight jacket and tossed them both on the living room chair. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. “Do you need anything? A drink? A little more conversation? How’s the mustache? Too bristly?”

She just shook her head, bringing a chuckle out of him. Once she was seated on the sofa he knelt on one knee and helped her out of her boots. Then he sat down and took off his. And then he had her in his arms again pulling her across his lap, going after her mouth with all his heat and power.

“I don’t want to jinx this,” he whispered, “but you’re a natural.”

“Are you saying I’ve missed my calling?”

He reclined with her on the sofa. “I’m saying, you’re very tasty and desirable and I could do this clear into next week.”

Then, with a hand on her butt pulling her against him, he pressed into her. She chuckled against his lips. “No, you can’t,” she said. He was hard. Ready. “All you want is sex.”

He grew still and serious. He gave her lips a little peck. Then he kissed her nose. “No, Les. That’s not all. But it’s not a bad place to start.”

Leslie could remember making out, but she certainly couldn’t remember anything like this. And she’d never been romanced this way—with a truckload of flowers and comments like, that’s not all, but it’s not a bad place to start. Although Conner was a large man, they somehow managed to lie on the couch together, bodies pressed close, mouths pressed closer. And hands, gliding up and down bodies. Leslie kissed his mouth, his chin, his brooding eyebrows, his cheeks, the place where his dimple would be when he smiled. She licked his upper lip, touching the mustache with her tongue, and made him moan.

“You like that, I think,” he said.

“I like it,” she confirmed. She tugged his shirt out of his pants so she could run her hands up his hard belly and over his sculptured chest. “You’re hard everywhere.”

He unbuttoned her crisp white shirt to find a very sexy, transparent lace bra. “And you’re soft everywhere. Did you wear this for me?” He bent his head and kissed the lace.

“I might’ve, yes. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I did think about having the right underwear for it.”

His big hand slid down to the crotch of her jeans. “I can’t wait to see the matching panties.”

“One thing at a time.”

“You’re right.” He popped the front latch of her bra and enjoyed himself for a little while with her breasts, first fondling and then kissing and finally sucking. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “How’s that bristle on your breasts?”

“It’s very good,” she said breathlessly, without opening her eyes.

“Les, are we gonna get na**d?”

“You mean more na**d?”

“It’s up to you,” he said. “And if the answer is yes, let’s trade this couch in for a bed. If the answer is no, let’s put on the coffee.”

“I’m very nervous. I wonder if I’ve thought it through....”

He chuckled and ran a rough finger down her chest all the way to her navel. “You have no reason to be nervous. And I have a couple of brand-new condoms in my pocket. One week old.”

“You planned this?”

“No, sweetheart. I wanted this. Hoped for this. Wanted to be prepared for this.”

She bit her bottom lip for a second. “Will we still be friends after?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Oh, Leslie, better friends, I hope. Are you worried I’m just here for the sex? Because I’m here for the sex with you, but only because it’s you. I haven’t felt this in a long time. I was a little afraid I’d never feel it again. But…” He started to pull her shirt closed over her breasts. “I want you to be ready. This has to be about both of us, not just one of us. We can put on the coffee....”

She grabbed his wrists. “I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”

“Are you nervous because it’s me?”

“Because it’s been so long and because I really like you. And because I’ve never done anything like this before, this ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing.”

“It’s more than that,” he said. “I think it’s friends with chemistry. You really turn me on.” He nuzzled her neck with a low purr that almost turned into a growl. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Leslie.”

“What if I don’t take real good care of you?” she asked him.

He looked surprised. “Not possible.” He put his lips against hers, and then in a remarkable move, never breaking the kiss, he shifted her weight until she was sitting on his lap again. With one arm behind her and the other under her knees, he lifted her. “Which way?”

“Left,” she said.

When he reached her bedroom, he stood at the side of the bed, holding her, looking down. The comforter was folded back, the pillows fluffed. “Perfect,” he said. And he slowly lowered her.

Leslie lay on her bed in her jeans, socks and opened blouse and watched as Conner went through the ritual of emptying his pockets onto the bedside table. He took out condoms and wallet; his watch joined them. Then he pulled off his shirt and opened his belt. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, his process of getting ready for her. But it was hard to concentrate. He had an enormous bulge in his dress pants. And when he lowered the pants, leaving only black boxer briefs, it was all she could do not to gasp.

He knelt on the bed and gently touched her, his fingertips gliding over her lips, then her neck and breasts, her belly. Then he opened her jeans and gave them a little tug. She lifted up so he could draw them off, and he groaned at the sight of her transparent lace panties. He tossed the jeans and ran a finger around the elastic. “God,” he muttered.

She reached for the waistband of his briefs. “Come on,” she said. “I’m cold.”

“You won’t be cold for long,” he said. And he quickly got rid of his boxers, removing the mystery. She bit on her lower lip to keep from saying, Wow. It was a little intimidating. Very large. Very hard.

He sat down on the bed and pulled her into a sitting position. He pushed the opened blouse and unsnapped bra over her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said, his voice gravelly.