the floor, then reached for the remote. She flipped through the DVR listings until she found Pick Me, a popular reality show which mirrored both The Dating Game and The Bachelorette. The show’s premise was for the female contestant to go on several dates with three different men, and in the end pick which guy she liked best.
She’d been looking forward to this episode. Tonight was the season finale and with the messed up group of contestants, she’d have another fabulous opportunity to practice delving into the human psyche. At least that was the excuse she’d used when Darci had caught her watching the cheesy show last week. Her friend had disagreed, and instead had accused Jenna of living vicariously through the contestants because she never dated.
Not anymore.
She’d had four dates in five nights, and the only reason she wasn’t seeing Luke this evening was because he had a dinner meeting with his client. Pulling another t-shirt from the basket, she selfishly wished it could have been a lunch date instead. She’d missed Luke tonight. His smile, the way his eyes simmered with sexual desire when he’d look at her. The spicy, sweet cologne he wore, and the way his scent lingered on her clothes at the end of each date.
Setting the folded t-shirt aside, Jenna glanced at the clock. Ten fifteen. He’d said he would call her after dinner, and she didn’t doubt him. Luke proved to be a man of his word. Even after the orgasmic kisses he’d given her on his boat Sunday afternoon, he’d stuck to his no-sex, kissing-only rule. Which was just too bad. With the way Luke kissed, she could only imagine what it would be like once they’d had sex — incredible, astounding, and absolutely amazing came to mind.
With a deep sigh, Jenna picked up the remote. She raised the volume on the TV just as Pick Me’s female contestant, Trudy, a rich, spoiled, Southern belle from Georgia, gushed to the host about her date with Jackson, an Atlanta-based attorney. Little did Trudy know that Jackson wasn’t really an attorney, but worked as a mechanic in some small town in a rural part of Georgia.
“Trudy, you’re so clueless,” Jenna said as she reached into the clothes basket. The show had been airing for a couple of years, and the producer’s had always made sure one of the three men wasn’t who he appeared to be. They’d tell the lucky bachelorette that her suitor was a doctor, when he was really a garbage man. If she fell for the producer’s red herring, the plant challenged the bachelorette’s moral fiber, and made for one heck of a finale.
At least Jenna didn’t have to worry about Luke suddenly blurting that he wasn’t really a CPA but a cranberry farmer from Wisconsin. They were friends, she knew where he’d grown up, the people he hung out with, and had even met his family at a barbeque earlier this summer. But they were more than friends now.
Since Saturday, their relationship had moved to another level. More intimate, more comfortable, and more than she’d bargained for. Being with him, the way he’d romanced her, shared his hopes and dreams, had her rethinking. Revaluating her life, her emotions, her hostility toward commitment.
Monday evening, he’d surprised her with a picnic. After they’d polished off the sandwiches and wine he’d brought, they had lounged on the blanket, both lying on their sides, heads resting in their hand. Luke had stroked her arm, made small circles with his fingertips that had her giggling like a little girl, and goose bumps zipping across her skin.
He’d laughed with her, then had grown serious. Brushed his knuckles along her cheek, and stared deep into her eyes. His gaze had held both trepidation and a quiet eagerness. She’d thought he’d kiss her then, but instead, he’d opened up to her about what had happened at the office that day. She’d thought it so sexy and refreshing that this strong, cocky man felt comfortable enough to confide in her his fears and
She’d been looking forward to this episode. Tonight was the season finale and with the messed up group of contestants, she’d have another fabulous opportunity to practice delving into the human psyche. At least that was the excuse she’d used when Darci had caught her watching the cheesy show last week. Her friend had disagreed, and instead had accused Jenna of living vicariously through the contestants because she never dated.
Not anymore.
She’d had four dates in five nights, and the only reason she wasn’t seeing Luke this evening was because he had a dinner meeting with his client. Pulling another t-shirt from the basket, she selfishly wished it could have been a lunch date instead. She’d missed Luke tonight. His smile, the way his eyes simmered with sexual desire when he’d look at her. The spicy, sweet cologne he wore, and the way his scent lingered on her clothes at the end of each date.
Setting the folded t-shirt aside, Jenna glanced at the clock. Ten fifteen. He’d said he would call her after dinner, and she didn’t doubt him. Luke proved to be a man of his word. Even after the orgasmic kisses he’d given her on his boat Sunday afternoon, he’d stuck to his no-sex, kissing-only rule. Which was just too bad. With the way Luke kissed, she could only imagine what it would be like once they’d had sex — incredible, astounding, and absolutely amazing came to mind.
With a deep sigh, Jenna picked up the remote. She raised the volume on the TV just as Pick Me’s female contestant, Trudy, a rich, spoiled, Southern belle from Georgia, gushed to the host about her date with Jackson, an Atlanta-based attorney. Little did Trudy know that Jackson wasn’t really an attorney, but worked as a mechanic in some small town in a rural part of Georgia.
“Trudy, you’re so clueless,” Jenna said as she reached into the clothes basket. The show had been airing for a couple of years, and the producer’s had always made sure one of the three men wasn’t who he appeared to be. They’d tell the lucky bachelorette that her suitor was a doctor, when he was really a garbage man. If she fell for the producer’s red herring, the plant challenged the bachelorette’s moral fiber, and made for one heck of a finale.
At least Jenna didn’t have to worry about Luke suddenly blurting that he wasn’t really a CPA but a cranberry farmer from Wisconsin. They were friends, she knew where he’d grown up, the people he hung out with, and had even met his family at a barbeque earlier this summer. But they were more than friends now.
Since Saturday, their relationship had moved to another level. More intimate, more comfortable, and more than she’d bargained for. Being with him, the way he’d romanced her, shared his hopes and dreams, had her rethinking. Revaluating her life, her emotions, her hostility toward commitment.
Monday evening, he’d surprised her with a picnic. After they’d polished off the sandwiches and wine he’d brought, they had lounged on the blanket, both lying on their sides, heads resting in their hand. Luke had stroked her arm, made small circles with his fingertips that had her giggling like a little girl, and goose bumps zipping across her skin.
He’d laughed with her, then had grown serious. Brushed his knuckles along her cheek, and stared deep into her eyes. His gaze had held both trepidation and a quiet eagerness. She’d thought he’d kiss her then, but instead, he’d opened up to her about what had happened at the office that day. She’d thought it so sexy and refreshing that this strong, cocky man felt comfortable enough to confide in her his fears and