6
ANY NERVOUSNESS that Autumn may have experienced when the date began was long gone by the time she and Jeff had dined on hamburgers, chuckled through a new comedy film and then spent an hour in an arcade in friendly competition. It was as if Jeff deliberately made the date as unthreatening as possible to put her at ease. If so, his strategy worked. She had a marvelous time, laughing until her sides ached.
“Okay, lady, you asked for it. I’m breaking through your defenses this time, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Jeff’s threat was uttered in a growl, blue eyes narrowed with intent.
Autumn tensed in reaction, her own eyes returning the challenge. “Would you like to make a small wager on that?”
“I,” he informed her loftily, “never bet on a sure thing. You may as well prepare to surrender.”
“I,” she returned haughtily, “never surrender. Give it your best shot, Bradford.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he told her softly, then exploded into action. His arm swept in a powerful arc, the paddle in his hand sending the air hockey puck skimming across the table between them, heading straight for Autumn’s goal.
Skillfully Autumn deflected the puck with a snap of her wrist, turning it back toward Jeff’s goal. Over and over they returned the volley, each intent on scoring the winning point. And then Autumn happened to glance up at Jeff, taking her eyes away from the table to admire him with his face flushed, eyes bright, hair disheveled, dimples flashing—and promptly lost the game.
“All right!” Jeff leaped straight into the air, one arm waving above his head as he celebrated his victory, one of the few he’d managed since he and Autumn had wandered into the arcade over an hour ago.
“Don’t gloat, Jeff. It’s not becoming.”
He grinned and looped an arm around her neck. “Oh, yeah? Who was gloating a few minutes ago after winning three straight games of Galactic Shoot-out? Who pointed out that she destroyed all my spaceships in the first ninety seconds of the first game? Who won the most tickets playing Skee-Ball? Who—”
“Okay, okay,” Autumn interrupted, laughing. “So I gloated. Now it’s your turn. Go ahead.”
“I’m much too good a sport to gloat,” Jeff answered with immense dignity, then added in a stage whisper, “Loser.”
Autumn giggled and punched him in the ribs. Then she swallowed a moan as she realized that she had, indeed, giggled. Oh, God, she thought dolefully. She’d regressed to girlhood. It must be a recurring condition. One that affected her anytime Jeff Bradford was around.
Holding his free hand to his abused ribs with an exaggerated wince, Jeff kept his other arm around her shoulders as they left the arcade in unspoken consent. “How about some ice cream? I’ve been craving ice cream ever since Webb mentioned it earlier.”
“Sounds good,” Autumn agreed, matching her steps to his as they walked down the sidewalk. She wondered briefly how Webb’s evening with Emily and Ryan had gone, then dismissed them from her mind. She was enjoying her own date with Jeff too much to concentrate on anyone else just then. She allowed her arm to slide around his waist, linking them as they strolled. Sometimes it was nice to feel like a schoolgirl, she reflected wryly.
“Chocolate mint for the lady,” Jeff told the teenager behind the Christmas-decorated counter of the icecream store, smiling into Autumn’s eyes as he spoke.
She returned the smile. “And cherry vanilla for the gentleman,” she murmured, remembering their conversation from the restaurant the previous Saturday.
Grinning at the total self-absorption of the couple, the teenager obligingly scooped generous helpings of the ice cream into waffle cones. Jeff paid for the ice cream, then winked at the kid, who laughed and gave Jeff a thumbs-up gesture of approval.
“What was that all about?” Autumn demanded curiously as they left the store.
“Male bonding,” Jeff answered flippantly, taking her hand to lead her off the sidewalk and onto the nearly deserted beach that stretched before them.
“You’re all hopeless.” Autumn sighed, curling her fingers around his as she licked her ice cream. She’d pulled Emily’s red sweater over her head just before they’d gone into the ice-cream store, and now she was grateful for its light protection as a cool breeze blew moistly off the bay, catching strands of hair loosened from her banana clip and wafting them around her face. The predicted cold front had arrived, dropping the temperature to a cool—for Tampa—fifty degrees. The moon shone brightly in the clear early-December sky above them, and the waters of the bay glittered in its light. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a more beautiful night—but then, she’d never spent a night like this with Jeff. Something told her that it wouldn’t have seemed quite so perfect without him.
“Beautiful night,” Jeff murmured, seeming to read her thoughts.
“Mmm. A lot different from Arkansas at this time of year.”
“Is that right?” Jeff asked gravely, swiping his tongue over his ice cream.
Watching him, Autumn shivered, but the tremor had little to do with the weather. Swallowing hard, she nibbled at her ice cream and nodded. “I’ll, uh, I’ll have to pack warm clothing when I go home for Christmas in a couple of weeks. I’ve gotten spoiled by Florida winters, even though I’ve only been through one so far.”
Jeff was watching her as she chattered, his eyes warmly amused. A dribble of cherry vanilla ice cream slid down one side of his cone, and he slowly licked it clean.
Autumn felt a moan forming in her chest and hastily repressed it. When had this happened? she wondered frantically. How had this happened? One minute they’d been laughing and playing, as comfortable together as kids, and in the next she found herself wanting to pull him to the damp sand and have her wicked way with him. Bewitched.
“How’s your ice cream?” Jeff inquired, his voice a low rumble meant for her ears alone.
“It’s…it’s fine. How’s yours?”