There’s too much distance between us.
“I guess I should be documenting this,” she says, with another lovable laugh.
“Why’s that?” I ask as I pull away from the curb.
She gives me a look, head tilted, mouth slightly open as though she was about to bite her lip. But then she stops herself. “Because this is my mega research opportunity, remember? Trying to figure out how regular people act on dates.”
There it is, the evidence I need to cool my jets. She just said this was all about research.
“It’s up to you,” I say.
“I’m only kidding,” she says in a low tone, wounded somehow. “I’m going with the flow. That’s what people do on dates, right?”
As I leave her neighborhood, I keep my eyes on the road. If I look at her now, I know I’ll end up telling her what I’d like to do on this date. I’ll tell her how hungry she makes me, starving, how every single impulse is roaring at me to grab her and pull her onto my lap.
“I’m not sure,” I say, my voice even.
“What?” She gasps and then lowers her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“Is that surprising?” I ask with a smirk.
I can feel her fidgeting next to me. Risking a glance, I see her hands in her lap, worrying at each other as she shifts around in her seat. It’s like she can’t sit still.
My cock pushes against my zipper, the tip engorged at the sight of her small hands contrasted with her thick juicy thighs. She’s driving me wild without even trying, without knowing she’s doing it.
“Just a little,” she says sarcastically. “I just assumed you’d been on a lot of dates.”
“Why?”
I make an effort to keep my voice friendly, not gruff like her words are making me feel. I’ve never been the sort of man to want to sleep around, to meet a bunch of women, to take that step just for the sake of it.
“It… it doesn’t matter,” she says softly.
“What were you going to say? Trust me, I won’t be offended. I’m a celebrity, remember. I’ve been called every name you can think of.”
“I don’t want to call you names,” she says, in that gentle tone of voice. “It’s just… well, not to be crazily forward.”
Please, my sweet Penny, be crazily forward.
“But like you said, you’re a celebrity. I’ve seen your picture in magazines, on those Celebrity Dream Crush lists.”
“So?”
She throws her hands up, making an exasperated noise. “So I’m sure you have plenty of options. That’s all I’m trying to say. You could have any number of women, go on plenty of dates.”
I shrug. “You’re right. If I wanted to, I could do that.”
“But you don’t?”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “I don’t.”
“Except for charity dates?” she teases lightly.
We come to a stop at an intersection, just before the turn that will bring us to the upcoming bridge, and then eventually our restaurant. She’s looking at the road, even as she speaks to me, with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“Charity dates?” I ask.
“Yeah. This. Us. Well… not us. What’s happening here. It’s a charity date, isn’t it? I think that’s a fair way to describe it.” Her words come out in a rush. “I know you do a lot for charity. Sorry. I may have googled you. It’s too easy these days, isn’t it? Just a simple click and that’s it. Anyway, this is the same, isn’t it? As your charity work…”
She lets her words trail off, her cheeks turning a bright red, looking anywhere in the world but at me. I’m forced to turn away as I pull away from the intersection.
“I’m not sure I’d describe it that way,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
She might be probing, checking to see if I’m really attracted to her. Maybe she wants the same thing I do.
Or perhaps it’s a case of making the parameters of what we’re doing clear. She doesn’t want me thinking there’s more going on than there actually is. She doesn’t want me getting the wrong idea.
“No?” she says.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I tell her honestly. “It’s not like I run a charity dating agency for bloggers who need a helping hand.”
She erupts into laughter. The song-like noise fills the car and I savor every moment of it. I’ll never grow tired of the sound of her laughter.
“Sorry,” she says, giggling. “That’s just so funny. I just imagined a line of women around the corner from your office waiting with computer in hand.”
I chuckle. “A line of women? Not for me.”
I only want one woman, and she’s sitting right next to me.
Penny gives me a look and then turns back to the road. I’m tempted to say something else but instead, we sink into a comfortable silence.
CHAPTER NINE
Penny
“Why did you decide to start your blog?” Preston asks as we drive along the bridge.