Men to Trust. Diana Palmer
got soft drinks, iced tea, or coffee.”
“I love coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
He grinned at her. “I always have a pot warming,” he said.
He got down two china cups and saucers and poured coffee into them. “Cream and sugar on the table.”
He carried them to the places, which were already set, amid platters of fish, vegetables, fresh rolls and even a cake.
“This looks wonderful!” she exclaimed.
“I counted on your being punctual,” he said with a glance. “You always are.”
He seated her, and then himself.
“I like to make a good impression,” she told him.
He chuckled. “Help yourself.”
She looked around curiously as she helped herself to trout and rolls and a potato casserole that smelled delicious. “Where are the cats?”
“They’re shy around people they don’t know,” he said nonchalantly. “They’ll show up when I cut the cake. They beg for cake.”
“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.
He laughed. “I’m not. You’ll see.”
They spoke about the upcoming election and the local political gossip during the meal. Violet was impressed with his culinary skills. He was an accomplished cook.
“Have you always been able to knock out a meal?” she wondered aloud.
“I was in the Army—special forces,” he replied simply. “I had to learn how to cook.”
“You were in Cag Hart’s division, weren’t you?”
He nodded. “So was Matt Caldwell. A lot of local guys turned up there.”
She didn’t know how far to push her luck. Someone had told her that he didn’t like to talk about his unit’s participation in the earlier Iraq conflict. But he got up to slice cake and two Siamese voices grew louder.
“See?” he asked, when the cats appeared on either side of him, their faces lifted as they meowed, sounding for all the world like little children.
“They have unique voices, don’t they?” she asked, fascinated.
“They do. And Siamese have one other peculiarity—they can reach completely behind their heads. They have claws and they aren’t shy about using them,” he added with a warning glance. “Go slowly, and everything will be all right.”
“Do you give them cake?” she asked.
He laughed. “Tiny little bites,” he said, confessing. “I don’t want to make them fat…”
Violet flushed red.
He ground his teeth and looked at her soulfully. “I didn’t mean that the way you’re taking it, Violet,” he said gently. “I don’t think you’re fat. You look exactly as a woman should look, in every way.”
“You said…” she began.
“I took a bad day out on you,” he replied, “and I’m sorrier than you know. It was a vicious thing to do. I made you quit, and I never meant to.”
For an apology, it was wholesale and flattering. She looked at him without blinking. “Really?”
He relaxed when he saw the combined pleasure and fascination in her face. She made him tingle just by looking at him. He wanted to drag her out of her chair and kiss the breath from her body. The thought shocked him. He stood with the knife poised over the cake, just staring at her.
The flush grew. She felt her heart racing like mad in her chest. Her lips parted as she tried to breathe normally.
“A lot of it was the way you dressed,” he said tautly when he managed to drag his eyes back to the cake. “I like the new wardrobe. It fits properly. Baggy dresses and blouses aren’t flattering for a full-figured woman.”
She didn’t take offense. He was looking at her as if he wanted, very badly, to kiss her. As he slid a piece of cake onto a saucer and put it in front of her, she looked up into his pale eyes with pure lust.
It had been a long time between women, but Kemp hadn’t forgotten the way a woman looked when she wanted to be kissed. Absently, his lean hand went to the back of Violet’s chair and he bent toward her confidently.
Her intake of breath made him hesitate, but only for a second. His other hand came up to her softly rounded chin and he tilted it up, just a fraction. “Don’t make such heavy weather of it,” he whispered as his mouth hovered over hers. “I want to kiss you as you much as you want me to.”
“Re…really?” she choked.
He smiled gently. “Really.”
His lips teased over her full mouth, nibbling her upper lip while he tasted it with a lazy stroke of his tongue. Violet jumped and shivered. The contact was completely out of her experience. She’d dated a few boys, but she didn’t seem to appeal to any of them physically. This was different. She wished she knew what to do, so that he wouldn’t stop.
He lifted his head and looked into her rapt, expectant eyes. She was breathing like a distance runner. Her breasts were shaking under the whip of her pulse. He’d thought she was at least a little experienced, but it seemed he was wrong.
His thumb moved to her lower lip and tugged it down gently as his head bent again.
“We have to start somewhere,” he breathed as his mouth opened against her full, soft lips.
Violet shivered. Her hands went to his arms, her fingers digging in. He was muscular. He didn’t look muscular in his suits, but she could feel the strength at this range. She moaned, a whisper of sound that drew his head up.
His eyes met hers, and there was no teasing in them now. They were intent, darker, hungry.
Her fingers lifted to his cheek, hesitantly. “Don’t…stop,” she pleaded in a soft, shaky whisper.
A muscle in his jaw tensed. He bent again, his own heart racing. “Violet,” he whispered.
This time the kiss wasn’t teasing, tender, or brief. He ground his mouth into her soft lips. She moaned again, and this time her hands met behind his neck and dug in. His mouth grew demanding.
There was another moan, but this one wasn’t passionate.
His head jerked back. Violet reached down and grabbed her ankle just as Yow drew back, hissing.
“Yow!” Kemp exclaimed, moving around the chair to shoo the cat away while he knelt and examined Violet’s ankle. It was bleeding. “I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world!”
“I must have stepped on her tail, poor thing,” Violet faltered. It was exciting to kiss Blake Kemp. It was equally exciting to have him at her feet, concerned for her.
“You were kissing me,” he corrected. “They’re jealous of any attention I pay to other people.”
“This has…happened before?” she asked miserably.
“Yes. Well, no, not like this,” he said. “Mee sank her teeth into Cy Parks one day when he was having coffee with me in the kitchen.”
“I see,” she began.
He gave her a wicked grin. “I wasn’t kissing him.”
She burst out laughing.
He stood up, pulling back her chair. He tugged her to her feet and suddenly swung her up into his arms. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders.
He raised an eyebrow rakishly. “Now it’s my ankles that will be in danger. I have to clean that and put antiseptic ointment on it,” he mused as he turned and carried her