Page 20 of Second Round

That was the real reason I was nervous: sex. Since Brent left, there wasn’t one man I’d been interested in. The odds were against me. I was a mom who hung out with other parents, so I didn’t meet a ton of single guys. And the few single guys I had met had done nothing for me. Coach Jerk-head was the first man I’d met who was attractive, presumably single, and he seemed to be interestedinme.

And vice versa. Oh, that body. He was more slim than hulking, but his chest had these well-defined muscles and he had actual ab muscles. Not like a teenager’s starvation six-pack, but his waist went in where Brent’s went out. And his arms looked strong and sinewy. He even had a few drops of water glistening on his skin like he was straight out of an Old Spicecommercial.

Leo wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was very attractive. His face was angular with hollowed cheeks and a squared off jaw. His eyes were narrow and his gaze piercing. Everything was brown, his eyes, his cropped hair, his lightly tanned skin. His expression had been stern and unsmiling—until the moment he caught me checking out hispackage.

Gah, I had openly eyed a strange man’s penis! And then tried to imagine what it looked like and how hard and silky smooth it might feel. From his expression he knew exactly what I was thinking about. My skin flushedagain.

Time to focus on organizing kitchens and not penises. I picked up the spatula that he had caught so gracefully and remembered how he had smacked it against his palm a few times as he was talking to me. Why had that made me feel all liquid inside? Lust was turning me into a complete idiot. How could a plastic spatulabesexy?

There was a frozen dinner defrosting on the counter. Really? I wouldn’t feed that to Minx. Spontaneously, I dumped it in the garbage and started rooting through the cupboards. Not much, but enough here for aquickmeal.

“Ahhh, you’restillhere.”

I jumped again, although not as spectacularly as the first time since I wasn’t holding kitchenutensils.

“Is that all you do? Sneak up on unsuspecting women and scare them todeath?”

Regretfully, he was wearing a pale blue t-shirt and jeans now, although he filled them out very well. He smiled at me—a half-smile that drew attention to a full bottom lip that I wanted to lick. Yet his smile looked a little evil, like he was toying with me. However that didn’t make him any less attractive. Ishivered.

“What are you doing?” heasked.

“I’m making you dinner.” Was this a ridiculous move straight out of Extremely Desperate Housewives? It was something I’d do for a friend in the same circumstances. But he wasn’t really a friend. All I knew was that I didn’t want to leave. He was watching me from behind. Hopefully, I didn’t have paint or chocolate stains on the back of myjeans.

“Why?”

“Because I saw what you were planning to eat, and that’snotfood.”

Leo chuckled, but didn’t say anything else. Apparently having strange women offer to cook for him was just another day in the life of Mr. HotCoach.

“Besides, aren’t you kind of an athlete? You should be eatinghealthier.”

He chuckled. “Yes, that’s me.Kindof an athlete. But I haven’t really had time to goshopping.”

“I know. There’s not a lot for me to workwithhere.”

“By all means, give me a list so I can be better prepared the next time you break into mykitchen.”

The blood rushed to my face. “I didn’t break in. I have a key. And I thought youwereout.”

I couldn’t see Leo’s expression because I was facing the counter, but I heard his laugh. I finished up the tuna melt and stuck it under thebroiler.

“Would you like a drink, Jacqueline?” He had a slight French-Canadian accent, and he pronounced my name in that French two-syllable way:Jack-len. Was there anything he did thatwasn’thot?

“Sure.” Then it struck me. Maybe he already had a date. It was Friday night after all. “Did you have planstonight?”

“No. I just arrived here, remember? I hardly know anyone yet—exceptyou.”

I couldn’t even define the reaction I was having to Leo. It was a cross between a teenaged crush and Mrs. Robinson syndrome. I was pretty sure I was older than him. He was a coach, so he had to be close to my age. But his body didn’t look like forty years of gravity had worked on it. Maybe being on the ice so much had preserved himbetter.

“I have wine,” heoffered.

“Beer’s fine,” I said. I declined a glassaswell.

Leo leaned against the kitchen counter and held his bottle out. “Cheers.”

I clinked my bottle against his. Our fingers touched briefly and the warmth of his hand numbed my brain. This particular social situation—being alone with a handsome stranger whose firm penis I had seen outlined in terry cloth—was completely out of myexperience.

“So, do you like your new place?” I finallyasked.

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