Part 2 (1/2)
He had a serious expression on his face as he stared at the White House. The sudden s.h.i.+ft to seriousness on Crank's part was unnerving: up until now, he hadn't seemed serious about anything. He stared at the White House with his jaw set, anger in the lines of his face.
”That must have been hard.”
”Yeah, well, people don't get that this stuff affects real people's lives. It's all sign waving and protesting and policy, but when the rubber meets the road, it's guys like my dad who will be in harm's way. That p.i.s.ses me off.”
”Are you and your dad close?”
He shook his head, an amused smirk crossing his face. ”Can't stand each other.”
I didn't know how to respond. I knew all about conflict with parents, but I wasn't discussing that with anybody. Ever.
”This is way too serious,” he said. ”And I haven't had enough to drink.”
”You've had too much to drink, based on what happened back at Georgia Brown's.”
He chuckled. ”Forgive me, Julia.”
I shrugged. ”It's getting my parents to forgive me that will be the trick.” I turned and started walking toward 14th Street. He followed.
”Seriously? How much harm are we talking?”
I sighed. ”My dad's nomination for Amba.s.sador to Russia got held up for almost two years ... partly because of the stuff that woman was writing.”
He coughed. ”Your father is the Amba.s.sador to Russia?”
I shook my head. ”He was ... he retired earlier this year, and the family moved home to San Francisco.”
”So, you're like ... a society girl. An heiress.”
”Something like that.”
”That's wicked hot.”
I stumbled, trying hard not to blush, and failed. ”What?”
He let out a loud belly laugh. ”Just kidding.”
A couple years ago, this would have thrown me way off-balance. But I wasn't eighteen anymore, and it took more than a pretty guy flirting with me to do that. ”Seriously. What's hot? Is it the heiress part or the society part?”
He smirked and gave me a frankly appreciative look, his eyes sweeping from my feet, all the way up my legs and entire body. I felt a s.h.i.+ver as he did it. Then he said, ”I'd say, all your parts.”
Nice. ”In that case, I guess I'll forgive you.”
”Man,” he said. ”You're too easy.”
”Easy? No. Just forgiving.”
”Sure, whatever. So you like, went to high school in Moscow?”
”No, three years in Beijing, then I finished out here.”
”In Was.h.i.+ngton?”
”Well, Bethesda-Chevy Chase. It's just outside DC, in Maryland.”
He shook his head. ”Too much. Way too much. So what do you want to do?”
”I don't know. What about you?”
He stepped close and looked me in the eyes. ”I want to take you back to my hotel and have my way with you.”
I sucked in a quick breath. Not what I'd expected him to say. I swallowed, meeting his eyes, then dropping mine to his lips. Bad idea, because his lips looked very kissable, and I found myself wanting to find out what that felt like. Then I tried to speak, but my voice caught a little. I coughed then said, ”I don't sleep with guys on the first date. And we're not going to have a second one.”
In a motion so quick I would have missed it had I not been watching, he licked his lips, then stepped even closer. Too close. Way up in my personal s.p.a.ce. I could smell his sweat from the performance. He said, ”Then I'll have to settle for a kiss.”
I opened my mouth, speechless. No one was this forward. He was nuts. I took a breath, said, ”I ...” and then he stepped forward just enough to close the gap between us and touch his lips to mine, and he was kissing me, and more disturbingly, I was kissing him back. s.h.i.+vers ran down my back as he put his hands firmly on my waist. His tongue darted forward and pressed between my lips, and mine met his, and I think I may have made a little bit of sound because he pulled me closer, and I was lightheaded, even though I'd barely touched my margarita.
I gasped and pulled back just a little bit. ”We should ... stop.”
He sighed and met my eyes. ”Why?”
”Because I don't do this with guys I'm not serious about.”
He replied, ”I don't get serious about anybody.”
”Neither do I,” I said, trying for a flippant tone, but knowing I was failing. It's hard to be flippant when you can barely breathe. Crank was setting off every alarm I had. Crazy, a.s.sertive, a little arrogant. I'd been down that route before, and it ruined my life. I took a deep breath and tried to ground myself.
He chuckled and slid his arms up to my shoulders. He squeezed gently then dropped his arms. ”Yeah ... sucks for me.”
”I'm not your type of girl, anyway.”
”True enough,” he said. ”You've got way too many clothes on, for one thing.”
I laughed. ”Why don't we grab some dinner or something? Since I didn't get to finish my salad before.”
”Something ... all right. Where to?”
”I don't care.”
”Then let's walk and see what we see.”
I'd like that (Crank) So we walked, and we talked. I was aching to kiss her again, and I could tell she was too. Maybe I'd get lucky, maybe not. Whatever, I was having fun. As we walked, Mark sent me a text message, asking if I was coming back to the hotel. I sent back a response telling him to buzz off.
Her phone rang a moment after that. ”Sorry.” She flipped it open and answered.
”h.e.l.lo? Oh, hey, Brittany ... no, I'm out with ... a friend. Yeah, I won't make it tonight, sorry ... what? No, I was planning on staying at my parents' place in Bethesda. I'll see you soon. Bye.”
She flipped the phone closed.
”Friends checking up on you?” I asked.