Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend by Rita Herron Page A

him had slipped in.
    She paced the sidewalk in front of the store where they were supposed to
    meet. Thinking the fresh air would relax her, she’d suggested they walk
    to the courtyard park in the square. Unfortunately, it was starting to
    drizzle, and the wind had whipped up something fierce.
     
    Why, oh, why had she agreed to do this?
     
    She glanced along the sidewalk but didn’t spot him, then heard a horn
    and saw the lemon-yellow Mustang drive up in front of the store. “It’s
    starting to rain. Get in.”
     
    She swallowed hard, remembering the last time they’d ridden together,
    when she’d driven like a maniac and almost killed him.
     
    “Come on, Rebecca, I won’t bite.”
     
    His sexy, teasing grin did nothing to relax her. But how could she argue?
     
    She slid inside the car and fastened her seat belt.
     
     
     
    “Let’s talk over dinner.”
     
    “D-dinner?”
     
    “Yes, you do eat, don’t you?”
     
    She nodded. But dinner seemed too much like a date.
     
    “Then let’s go. I know this great little place outside town. Then we can
    skip back to your place.”
     
    “M-my place?” Heavens, that would be way too intimate.
     
    You want to have this man’s baby, Rebecca. For God’s sake, how do you
    think you’ll ask him to do that if you can’t even let him come to your
    apartment?
     
     
     
    Thomas’s shoulders ached as he drove to the restaurant. Rebecca was
    holding on to her seat with a death grip, as if she expected him to jump
    her bones any minute.
     
    He’d glimpsed a few very nice curves beneath that denim skirt when she’d
    climbed into the car. Her breasts had swayed and dipped enticingly,
    stirring his arousal. And her scent, some kind of light flowery
    fragrance, was driving him wild. He turned on the radio to a soft rock
    station to fill the strained silence and tried to regain his
    equilibrium. Rebecca Hartwell was not supposed to affect him this way.
    Good grief, he saw dozens of women all day long, and not one Sugar Hill
    resident stirred his hormones like Rebecca.
     
    Conversation. He should get her talking to thwart this insane reaction
    his body seemed to be having. “What kind of music do you like?”
     
    She cleared her throat. “Just about everything. Oh, except for rap and
    hard rock.”
     
    “Favorite?”
     
    “Country.”
     
    He hated country. “Do you like to work out?”
     
     
     
    She shrugged. “I walk back and forth to work every day.”
     
    He wasn’t exactly a fitness fanatic but he liked to keep in shape. “I
    have a gym-” At home, he almost said, but he didn’t want to sound as if
    he was bragging. “I joined.”
     
    She didn’t comment.
     
    “How about sports? You follow any of the major league teams?”
     
    “B-baseball.”
     
    “Yeah, I keep up with the Braves. But I love football.”
     
    She shuddered. She obviously hated it. “My d-dad is glued to the set on
    Sundays.”
     
    So was he, but she didn’t sound as if she approved. “Do you like outdoor
    activities? Hiking, camping, boating? Skiing?”
     
    “I’m not very athletic. I m-mostly like art and books.”
     
    Did they have anything in common? “I hope you like eclectic food.”
     
    “I’m easy to please.”
     
    He wished!
     
    Another strained silence fell between them. He’d never had this much
    trouble talking to a woman before in his life. Which proved that he
    certainly had no business getting involved with Rebecca.
     
    Grateful when the restaurant appeared, he filled the next few minutes as
    he parked detailing the menu. He knew it by rote, everything except for
    the nightly specials.
     
    A sigh of disgust lodged in his throat. He sounded like a waiter.
     
    “You must come here a lot,” Rebecca said as she opened the car door.
     
    “Yeah. But I have enough casseroles from the ladies so I don’t have to
    eat out every night.”
     
    She frowned and he wished he hadn’t mentioned the casseroles. He scooted
    out and hurried around