Just Kiss Me by Rachel Gibson Page B

it.”
    “I’m not sticking my hand in there.”
    “It’s not a bag of snakes, Henry.” She reached for a chip. “Go ahead.”
    “I’m not your assistant. You can’t order me around.”
    “Scared?”
    “Stop, Vivien.” She was pushing him. Provoking him and, by the sparkle in her eyes, she as having fun doing it, too.
    “I double-dog dare you, Henry.”
    Behind her pretty face, he could almost see the little girl who’d rummaged through his closet, then dared him to call her a thief. The chubby little kid who stuck her tongue out at him when no one else was looking. “You can’t double-dog dare before you dare and double dare.”
    “I’m not playing around.” Her gaze narrowed and she shook her head. “I’m going straight to the double dog.”
    “You’re ridiculous.” He put the bag in his lap and kept his gaze locked with hers as he reached inside. Silk and lace touched the tips of his fingers and he pulled out a blue bra. A flimsy, see-through bra. He held it up by one strap and studied the tiny purple flowers before he dropped it back into the sack.
    “How do you feel?”
    “Not a bit shriveled.” And getting less shriveled by the second. He handed her the bag of bras and panties and glanced at the Tag Heuer on his wrist. “We should get going.” He stood and dug his wallet out of his back pocket.
    “Thank you, Henry.”
    Before he’d found her in Macy Jane’s muddy garden, he didn’t think he’d ever heard “thank you” pass her lips. “For what? You didn’t eat much.” He tossed two twenties on the table then stuffed his wallet into his back pocket.
    “For driving me around today when you didn’t want to.” She grabbed her purse and sunglasses. “And for making me laugh and forget for just a few minutes why I’m here.”
    He looked down into her green eyes and the laughter fading from her gaze. “You’re welcome, Vivien Leigh.” She slid the sunglasses on her face and he put his hand in the small of her back. As they crossed the street, he tried to recall exactly when he’d last put his hands on a woman’s bra and panties. It had probably been a few months ago. A few months’ worth of pent-up lust explained why the sight of Vivien in a black dress, the touch of a blue bra, and the warmth of her back against the palm of his hand made him think about sex. He opened the passenger door of his truck for Vivien, then moved to the driver’s side. He definitely had to do something about the dismal state of his sex life. The problem was, he wanted more than just sex. He was thirty-five and had been in two serious relationships. Both women had left him when they’d figured out that he hadn’t been serious enough to put a ring on it. It wasn’t that he was opposed to marriage, he just hadn’t ever been ready.
    Cool air from the truck’s vents brushed across his forearms as he drove Vivien back to Berlin’s. He thought of the single women he’d dated since he’d been back in Charleston. Most had been smart and attractive women. A few had even earned his mother’s stamp of approval, but he wasn’t Spence. He didn’t need Nonnie to approve of the women in his life.
    He pulled the truck next to the curb in front of Berlin’s and Vivien ran in to grab her dress. His brother had married a bona fide St. Cecilia debutante. Nonnie had been beyond thrilled to have a daughter-in-law, like herself, who’d been presented at the ultra-exclusive St. Cecilia ball held every November. Spence had done what had been expected. He’d married “true Southern,” but look where it got him. In the middle of a brutal divorce and chasing the pain away with booze and women. Henry was different. He wasn’t looking for a pedigree. He was looking for a woman that he would love forever. That he
wanted
to love forever.
    After he dropped Vivien off at the carriage house, he pointed his truck toward his small home on John’s Island. The size of the house and the fact that it was only six years old