Free License to Love by Barbara Boswell Page A

inflection perfectly. “We’re usually doing something, like dancing or watching a movie or a ball game.” He paused. “Or other things.”
    Other things. One could only imagine what that might include. Michelle tried to will away the flush of color that stained her cheeks. Unsuccessfully. “You don’t have to elaborate,” she said sternly.
    “Before you condemn me out of hand, try to understand. I talk all day, all week long, remember? All lobbyists do is talk; it’s the chief tool of the trade. I get so sick of talking . The last thing I want is to have to talk to my dates. In my spare time, I need a break from talking.”
    “So you date idiots whose conversation is limited to exclamations like ‘oh, wow’ and ‘cool’?” guessed Michelle.
    “Well, idiots is a bit harsh, but essentially, you’ve got the picture.”
    “I suppose it’s never crossed your mind that there’s a difference between lobbying and meaningful conversation. Or that you might actually enjoy talking with your dates if you chose women capable of intelligent conversation?”
    His dark eyes gleamed. “Mmm, now there’s a radical notion.”
    “Wait a minute, it just occurred to me. When you asked me out, did you assume that I was a bubblebrain who wouldn’t mentally tax you?” Michelle was indignant. “You did, didn’t you?”
    “No, no! I knew you were different!”
    “You’re right on cue with that self-serving line.” She gave him a speaking glance. “I hope you don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe you.”
    “But it’s true, Michelle. I really did enjoy talking to you on the phone that day. I wanted to get to know you better. You’re smart and sharp and good at your job. You—interest me, Michelle.”
    “Oh, and most women don’t?” she asked snidely.
    “Only physically. With you—it’s more.”
    “Yes, of course. You admire my brains and my body,” Michelle said, scoffing. “Come on, Steve. Reel it in. I’m not biting.”
    “It’s not a line, Michelle.” He sounded hurt. So genuinely wounded that she reflexively turned to him to see if he really was.
    With one deft but leisurely move, Steve closed the small gap between them, slipping one arm around her shoulders and tilting her chin upward with his other hand. “Not even a little nibble?” He smiled at her, his eyes warm and filled with humor.
    To her dismay, Michelle found herself responding to his roguishly teasing smile with a hesitant smile of her own. What she ought to be was annoyed with him, she reminded herself. He’d been toying with her. Hadn’t he? Perhaps she should be furious with him.
    But she couldn’t seem to work up the righteous anger required. And now he was so very close, his arm around her, his sensual smiling mouth heart-stoppingly near to hers. His long fingers slipped from her chin to her neck to caress the sensitive skin which tingled under his fingertips, sending ripples of fire deep to the very core of her.
    “How do you do it?” she asked shakily. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. The musky male odor of soap and after-shave and something indefinably him sent her senses swimming.
    “Do what?” The husky timbre of his voice was as powerfully seductive as his eyes that had turned heavy and hungry and slumberous with desire.
    With his one arm around her and the other stroking her neck, Michelle felt surrounded by the warm, male strength of him. She was vaguely aware that she ought to push him away but she pushed the thought away instead and sat still, gazing into his eyes like one mesmerized. “You know,” she murmured tremulously. “Turn things around this way. We were arguing and then suddenly—”
    Her voice trailed off as he touched his lips to hers, so lightly and gently she almost thought she’d imagined it. “We were arguing to keep ourselves from doing this,” he said in a voice so smoky and intimate and sexually stimulating that a tremor of longing rocked her. Her eyelids dropped