Debbi Rawlins - He's All That

She closed her eyes, thinking about what she’d write to her e-mail buddies. If she were smart, she’d wait a day to tell them about tonight. Wait till she wasn’t so tingly and giddy. She didn’t want to end up blabbing all the details.

The door opened and she looked up. He was dressed, still tucking in his shirt, the stirrings she felt just watching him alarmed her.

“Okay,” he said, meeting her eyes, his totally unreadable. “I’ll be shoving off.”

She nodded, an inexplicable panic tightening her chest so that she didn’t trust herself to speak.

He hesitated, and then headed for the door, and she realized what had her suddenly so tense. What next? Was this it? One night? She hadn’t thought things out this far. She hadn’t expected to want more. Which was silly. He was awesome. He was…

“Jake?”

He stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned with raised brows.

“Thanks.”

He laughed. “Sure.”

She wanted to pull the sheet over her face. “I mean, for waiting.”

“No problem.” He paused, a slight frown on his face. “You parked close, I hope.”

“I valet parked.”

“Good.” He turned the knob.

“Jake, wait.” She silently cleared her throat. “I was wondering—would you be interested in—doing this again?”

He smiled. “You call the shots.”

“Tomorrow night?” One more time wouldn’t hurt. That hardly constituted a relationship.

“Here?”

“Sure. I won’t be late.”

He smiled again, and let himself out.

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