havin’ some tests. I want to be there for her.”
“I’ll come up tomorrow and stay with you.”
“I have to concentrate on her for a day or two, Cain, and you are way too distractin’,” she said, smiling into his eyes with all the old and new love filling her heart. “But I’ll be back here on Friday. I promise. And . . .”
“And?” He stopped, pausing his tender ministrations, his lips hovering over her skin and his hot breath making her shiver.
“I don’t have to work this Sunday.” She swallowed. “I’m free this weekend.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning away from her, his wide eyes black and blue. “But pack a bag and stay with me till Monday morning. All weekend, Gin. I want you all weekend long.”
She saw it in his eyes, what he meant, what it would mean for her to stay with him all weekend. Their bodies fused together as every last barrier between them finally came down forever. That’s how they’d be, and that’s what she wanted too . . . all weekend long.
She shivered in anticipation, then nodded. As she turned to leave, she remembered why she’d come looking for him in the first place.
“By the way, there’s a horde of women in the office. They all want to see you.”
“Legit business?”
Nope. Ginger shrugged.
“Okay,” he said. He looked down at his crotch, which looked bulging and strained. “Give me a couple of minutes to think about baseball, huh?”
“Friday,” she whispered, grinning at him before walking back to the office with an ache of her own.
“Mr. Wolfram will be here in a minute, ladies. May I get you coffee?”
When they all declined, she sat down at her desk and looked them over. They were all pretty in their own ways, though the Queen Bee was the prettiest, and Ginger had a sudden pang of worry that Cain would see her and run off, leaving her in the dust. She looked about ten times more experienced than Ginger too, confident in her own skin, and Ginger bet that she’d had about a million orgasms from enthusiastic lovers, and knew exactly what to do in bed to pleasure a man.
Cain? He loved pleasure.
And Ginger? She’d never known anything but mediocre sex with a friend.
What if she wasn’t enough for him? She certainly wasn’t anywhere near as experienced as he was. He’d been bedding women since his early teens, and Ginger had only ever been with Woodman. What if she wasn’t good in bed? What if she and Cain had sex and it was just as bland and boring as it had been with Woodman?
She got up and made herself a cup of coffee, covertly looking at the Queen Bee, who flipped through a magazine, looking up at the office door every few minutes and sighing her annoyance. Ginger’s breasts weren’t as large, her waist wasn’t as small, and she wasn’t anywhere near as tall.
“Humph,” Ginger muttered, pouring a little milk in her coffee and sitting back down at the desk.
Wait until they see him up close and start batting their eyes at him. She was making him wait until Friday, when she was positive that any woman in this room would have let him take her against the spare tires in the supply room with a great big grin on her face. Shoot. Damn it. Why was she making him wait? Why was she risking what was growing between them?
And then suddenly there he was, standing in the doorway of the office. She felt him, but she also heard the dreamy sighs from at least two of the four women waiting.
“Afternoon, ladies,” said Cain, standing in front of the four women waiting in guest chairs. “My girlfriend, Ginger, here, told me y’all were lookin’ for a motorcycle mechanic. That right?”
Ginger’s lips trembled as she watched two of the women—Conspiratorially and Insecurely—quickly deflate at the news of Cain’s “girlfriend.” One of them made an excuse about needing a car mechanic, and the other said she thought he serviced bicycles too. When he politely referred one to a garage down the street and the other to the local bike shop, he was left with two.
Flirtatiously stuck out her boobs, sucked a finger into her mouth, and asked if Cain would check her gears.
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “For gear problems, I charge four hundred dollars an hour. If you’ll go ahead and give Ginger your credit card, I can schedule you for a—”
“Four hundred dollars?” she cried, her finger falling forgotten to her