Separation Anxiety by Lisa Suzanne Page A

for the past twenty-four hours.”
    “Not much to tell.” He shrugged modestly. “You know a lot already. I woodwork in my spare time. I like to cook. I’m a high school counselor.”
    “Tell me about your family.”
    “Good parents. Still married after thirty-five years.”
    “Siblings?”
    “An older sister. You?” he asked.
    “I have two brothers, one older and one younger. Both are married with kids. My parents are great, but, as I already told you, they’re super conservative and quite religious. I was shunned when I moved in with Richard before we got married, so I can only imagine what they’ll do now that I’m getting a divorce. Seriously, growing up, the ‘d’ word was just as bad as saying the ‘f’ word.” I thought about that for a minute, realizing how true it was. We never used the word “divorce” in my house. And then I narrowed my eyes at Jesse. “And I just realized you turned this back on me.”
    He smiled. “I like learning new things about you,” he said. “I’ve never been one for talking about myself.”
    “Time to start, Drake,” I teased.
    “My favorite color is blue.” He raised both eyebrows. “Good?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “More.”
    “My favorite meal is fish and chips. Good?”
    I shook my head again. “More,” I repeated.
    He rolled his eyes and I giggled. “I tend to date blondes, but I prefer brunettes,” he said. His eyes glinted wickedly. “Good?”
    “I like that one,” I said, “but I still want more.”
    “ Typical woman always wanting more,” he muttered, and I had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about our conversation. “My favorite movie is The Godfather. ”
    “Cliché.”
    “Cliché?”
    “Yeah. That’s every guy’s favorite movie.”
    “Fine. Then my favorite movie is Austin Powers .”
    “At least that’s honest. More.”
    “Not until you answer all of those.”
    It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Pink, that chicken marsala we just ate, dark hair, and Pretty Woman .”
    “ The Godfather is cliché but Pretty Woman isn’t?”
    “Correct. Continue, please.”
    “Fucking women,” he said. “Impossible to please.”
    He gazed at me for a moment, and I saw something change in his eyes. He seemed like he was about to tell me something important, but then he looked away. He was quiet as I wondered where he went for that moment.
    “Jesse, what is it?” I asked.
    His eyes met mine. “Nothing,” he said. “I, uh, like going to concerts.”
    “Best live band?” I asked, trying to pull him back to me.
    He thought about it. “Metallica.”
    “Really? Like the heavy metal hair band from the eighties?”
    He nodded. “Do you like concerts?”
    “Of course. But on a teacher’s salary, I don’t make it to too many.”
    “We’ll have to change that.”
    His promise for the future sent a spark of desire through my veins.
    “Sounds perf.”
    He grinned. “Let’s watch Austin Powers ,” he said out of the blue.
    “Put it in,” I said. And then I realized my innuendo. If Quinn was here with us, she definitely would’ve said, “That’s what she said.”
    I chuckled at the thought. “What?” he asked, still fingering my hair between his fingertips.
    “I just said ‘put it in.’”
    He laughed. “Perv.”
    “See? I’m not the only one who abbreviates my words.”
    “Guess we’re perf together, then.”
    He stood up to get the movie, and I flushed as I allowed his words to wrap around me and warm me from the inside out.
    We watched the movie together, and, big surprise, I fell asleep on his shoulder again and woke up twelve hours later in the bed in the guest room.
    Something about Jesse Drake’s house just allowed me the peace and comfort of uninterrupted rest.
    And, apparently, really intense sex dreams.
    I felt a dull, achy throb between my legs as snippets of that dream came back to me.
    It had been so real.
    We were sitting at the kitchen table, and Jesse held my wrists in his hands. That same scene