Murphy's Law. Lori Foster
He slowly shook his head. “Oh no. Trust me, I’m a long way from humor. But I will tell you that you’ve sealed your fate.”
Her expression darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll be your first.” He gave in to a smile. “And honey, I can hardly wait.”
Chapter 3
Idiot, idiot, idiot. Quinton had been hot on her heels before, but now he looked ready to stand up and beat his chest in a primitive claiming. His reaction wouldn’t matter—if she didn’t want him just as much.
But she did.
She’d never survive this.
Through several minutes of silence, she all but squirmed in her seat. Quinton kept scrutinizing her, as if seeing her through new eyes. Or maybe he’d never seen a virgin before. From what she could tell, they were in short supply, especially in her age group.
She felt…naked. She felt defensive. But she didn’t want to be the first to crack.
The waitress brought their food and departed with a friendly but curious smile. Quinton dug in. After several bites, he nodded. “You’re right. It’s delicious.”
Her breakfast could have been unseasoned oatmeal for all that she tasted.
He took his gaze off her long enough to glance around the interior of the diner. “Very quaint atmosphere.” His green eyes were bright with an unspoken dare. “I like the old black-and-white photos of the area.”
Ashley laid down her fork and put her hands together.
“I’ve never eaten in a place like this.” He opened a small packet of apple butter and spread it on his toast. “I like it that you can introduce me to…new things.”
His inexhaustible good humor wore her down. “Okay, I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can.” He washed down the last of his toast with a drink of coffee.
Her hands were shaking! Her hands never shook, except maybe with exhaustion, but that didn’t apply right now. No, she shook because she was totally out of her element.
“I mean it, Quinton.” She looked up—and got caught in his mesmerizing gaze. “You’re going to have to stay away from me.”
He didn’t smile. “The hell I will.”
Strange how her heartbeat started racing at his refusal. “Look, Quinton, I’m not what you expected. You said so yourself.”
“You’re who I want. That’s all that matters.”
How in the world could he want a twenty-seven-year-old virgin? A virgin who antagonized almost everyone to avoid relationships, a virgin from the wrong side of the tracks. A virgin who, until meeting Quinton, had intended to stay a virgin. “You’re nuts.”
“That’d be your fault. I was perfectly sane before meeting you. An overdose of unrequited desire is what’s pushing me toward the loony bin.” He turned his wrist to see his watch, then laid his napkin on his empty plate. “When will you have some free time again?”
So she could show him new things? She lifted her chin. “I don’t know that I will.”
He groaned as if in pain, then half laughed. “All right, let’s add another notch toward insanity.”
“Quinton…” she warned.
“We can play it your way. But the day after the wedding, all bets are off.”
“Fine, whatever.” What was she saying? Her stomach knotted even as her heart started racing again. “But you agreed to mind your manners till then, and I’m holding you to it.” She needed some time to get used to the idea of opening herself to anyone other than her best friend, May.
“I’m a man of my word. Your little disclosure won’t change that.” He looked at her mouth. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Thank God. She needed to get his mind—and her own—on safer ground. “Like?”
“How is it you’ve never had sex?”
Well hell, his mind hadn’t traveled far at all. “I’ve come close.” Even to her own ears, she sounded aggressive.
“How close?”
Not very. She shrugged. “The typical, I guess.” Oh, how lame. She picked up her coffee cup and started to sip.
“Has any man given you a climax?”
The cup nearly fell out of her hands. She quickly thunked it down to the counter. “You want a blow-by-blow report? Well, forget it. I’m not going to sit here in a restaurant and spell things out for you. Get your jollies somewhere else.”
“If you want privacy for this discussion, we could sit in my car.”
“Hell, no.” In private the topic would take on new proportions, she didn’t doubt.
His smile appeared again. “All right. Don’t get in a snit.”
Ashley narrowed her eyes. “Are you mocking me?”
This time he actually chuckled aloud. “I’m trying to understand you and the choices you’ve made. That’s all.”
“It wasn’t exactly a choice. More like something that just happened and I decided I didn’t care enough to change the situation.”
He gave her a chastising look. “Men are easy, honey. A glance, a smile—and they’re ready. Especially for someone as attractive as you. You’re definitely a virgin by choice. I just want to know why.”
“You want the nitty-gritty, huh? Fine.” She wasn’t the type who opened up easily, but with Quinton, she wanted to. “It’s tough to get laid when I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
His surprise lasted one heartbeat. “Another deliberate choice, I’m sure.”
“Actually, it wasn’t. You see, my family was poor. Not poor as in, new shoes were hard to come by. Poor as in, we relied on the church and neighbors for clothes and food. Mom and Dad could have worked, but they didn’t. And whenever they did get money, they blew it on things that in no way changed our circumstances.”
“They couldn’t find jobs?”
Ashley toyed with her coffee cup. She hadn’t seen her folks in ages. Sadly, she didn’t miss them at all. “They could’ve if they’d wanted them, but they enjoyed their leisure time too much. I mean, what’s better than sitting on the couch all day with a cold beer, a cigarette, and the soaps?” She laughed, remembering how, even as a little kid, she’d known they weren’t good people. “Dad had been a truck driver, but after he got laid off, he spent all his time bitching about the company instead of looking for new work. He wanted everyone to feel sorry for him.”
“How long was he off work?”
“From the time I was ten until I skipped out at seventeen. After that I don’t know. I haven’t been back.”
“You left your home at seventeen?”
“Yeah. I was a real crusader, out to prove something. I’ve forgotten what.” But she didn’t want to talk about that. The memories sucked big-time, and rehashing them wouldn’t change a thing. “Trust me, leaving was the best decision I ever made.”
He grew very solemn. “Then home must have been pretty tough.”
She mustered a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Mostly it was an embarrassment. I had a self-proclaimed ‘stay at home’ mom, who was determined that I’d be different. I wasn’t allowed to do…anything—but that was mostly because anything I might have done would have required her involvement. Our house was a dump. Our yard was a jungle, housing a bad septic system that could