No More Mr. Nice Guy by Jennifer Greene Page B

mystical ocean sounds and Alan’s hand, so gently fingering through her hair…her bloodstream announced that she was being set up. If any other man had tried it, she would have handed him his walking papers, but this was Alan. She loved being set up by Alan. Every nerve ending was increasingly ticklish with anticipation.
    “Tell me about it, Caro.”
    “About my first date?” She shook her head, chuckling up at him. “A terrible story, Alan. We went to a homecoming dance; his mother had to drive us. He had braces, five left feet, and kissed me at the door like a fish, lips all puckered up, eyes closed.” Humor sparkled in her eyes. “Which isn’t to cut him down, poor boy. At fifteen, I had braces and five left feet, too.”
    He smoothed her hair back, his fingers idly playing with the strands. “But you didn’t kiss like a fish.”
    “I may have.”
    “You didn’t,” he assured her. “How about the second boy you went out with?”
    “Don’t really remember,” Carroll admitted. “The next one I remember was…” She hesitated. Why were they talking about this? And the tequila must have gone straight to her head, because she hadn’t thought about such things in years.
    “Tell me,” Alan encouraged.
    “Oh…a boy named Mark.”
    “And you were how old?”
    “Sixteen or so.”
    “First love?”
    She flushed. “No, it was nothing like that.” Her fingers splayed on the silk folds of his shirt. Beneath, she could feel the warmth of Alan’s chest, the solidity of muscle, the comfort of his heartbeat. There was nothing she couldn’t tell Alan. “In high school, the boys called me ‘the challenge’ behind my back,” she said dryly. “It seems I built up a reputation for being a Goody Two-shoes. Anyway, Mark was tall and good-looking and strictly bad news—no decent girl in school would date him. Everyone knew he only wanted one thing.” Carroll chuckled, offering Alan a mischievous smile. “In short, he was the best chance I ever had to get into trouble and I blew it.”
    Not from where Alan was sitting. “I take it you didn’t go out with him?”
    “Oh, yes, I did. I even knew the football team had made bets on whether or not he would score. Darn it, that was partly why I accepted the date.” Carroll idly ran a hand through her hair, remembering. “Alan, you probably can’t understand this…”
    “Hey. Give me a try,” he coaxed lightly. Surely, she wasn’t afraid he would judge or criticize her? He would never do that. He did wonder fleetingly if the bastard was still alive.
    “Well…” She laughed, a little nervously. “You know how you are when you’re sixteen? You think nothing can hurt you, you’re sure the whole world is out there waiting for you to explore it, and you want to try everything at least once. I was so tired of that ice-maiden label, Alan, and maybe I just wanted to see what I was missing. I had big visions of a wild date. Maybe doing things I’d always wanted to do, like staying up until dawn, like climbing the sandstone mountains at Shades Park by moonlight, like canoeing on the Wabash at midnight.”
    Alan mentally stored those tidbits. “So what happened?” he encouraged.
    “He took me to a drive-in movie and spilled popcorn all over me,” Carroll said dryly. “Somehow that got us laughing. I think that spoiled his whole image as the football-team stud. I didn’t even get a kiss at the door, no pass, nothing, but believe it or not, we had a terrific time. A few days later, he even punched some guy who dared to ask how he’d made out with me. Darn it, the guy acted like my big brother for almost a year.”
    “Did he?” Amused now, Alan discovered an eyelash that had fallen on her cheek, a tiny black crescent of silk against cream-soft skin. He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and then leaned back, studying her. His eyes turned thoughtful. “So…you were stuck with being a ‘good girl’ a little longer.”
    “Yup.”
    “No other