Taking Tiffany by MK Harkins

placed her hand over her mouth and continued to giggle.
    God, what was it about this woman? I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her until her laughter turned to moans. Oh, hell. I needed to stop these thoughts, especially with her father standing only ten feet away. I had it bad for this girl.
    Almost as if she read my thoughts, her expression grew serious as and her intense gaze traveled to my lips. The electricity pulsed and sparked between us. My control snapped, like a brittle twig. Her lips parted, and I leaned forward.
    “Tiffany!” her dad bellowed. “Time to go.”
    “Hang on a minute, Dad.” She shrugged. “Bye, Todd.”
    “Tiffany…” I needed to tell her.
    “Yeah?”
    “I had fun today.”
    A huge smile brightened her face. “So did I.” She placed her hands on my shoulders, stood on her tip-toes, and kissed me on the cheek. Her eyes lit with rebellion. I stole a quick glance at her dad. Yep, he was watching. Something strong and powerful expanded in my chest. At that moment, I decided not to let my past dictate my future. She didn’t know it yet, but she was mine.  I tilted my head in her dad’s direction. Bring it on.

    ***
                                                                          
     
    FOUR DAYS LATER and my confidence had fled like a screaming girl from one of those slasher movies. Sitting alone in my condo, I’d dialed and hung up the phone around ten times. I paced around my living room, stared out the windows, and finally sat down. Just call. With wet palms and a renewed determination, I finally let the call go through to Tiffany. She picked up on the first ring.
    I cleared my throat and asked, “I’d like to make you dinner on Friday. Can you come?” A long beat of silence. “Just dinner,” I added.
    We’d been talking and texting all week, so this shouldn’t be a huge surprise. Or maybe it was. A racing pulse and full body sweat accompanied my other symptoms as I waited for her answer.
    “I’d love to. Are you really going to cook?” She sounded a little breathless.
    “Yeah. I’m practically a chef,” I exaggerated.
    “Now I know you’re teasing me. But I am impressed that you want to try to cook for me.”
    “Try?” I asked.
    “Let’s just say I’ll have a granola bar stashed in my purse, just in case,” she joked.
    Friday couldn’t come quick enough. I’d cleaned and organized, shopped and prepped the food, and turned around and cleaned and organized for a second time.
    Now that I’d finally made a decision, I was nervous. After denying my feelings, the insane attraction I had for Tiffany, it felt liberating to acknowledge them. But it came at a cost. Now I needed to convince her. We obviously had physical chemistry, but…did we want the same things? And did it matter? I wasn’t lying to her; I hadn’t invited her over to get her into bed. Just dinner. I wanted her on my own turf, even though being alone with her was risky considering our explosive chemistry. But I’d stay true to my word. This date would be all about getting to know her, how she thinks and feels about her life…and me.
    After meeting Tiffany’s dad and seeing a little of their interactions, I had a good feel for their relationship. Gerald Thompson could be gruff, intimidating even, but he was all bluster. He loved his daughter—dearly—but he didn’t come across as the type to make demands. Suggestions, maybe. But when Tiffany kissed me on the cheek in front of him, it sent a message to both of us. “I’m a fully grown woman; I make my own decisions. So…back off.”
    But before we could move further, there were things she needed to know about me. Painful things that took me years to get over. I had a history, a blackened one. Savannah’s dad used it to convince his daughter that it wasn’t only my lack of “breeding or wealth” at issue, it was the horrible circumstances I survived. But I had survived. And yet, somehow,