Free The Other Man by R. K. Lilley Page B

like it hadn’t even occurred to him that I wasn’t being entirely serious just then.  
    Flirting was a foreign concept to him.    
    “You’re a peaceful woman,” he said, each word uttered very carefully.   Like they had some special meaning.  
    I blinked, long and slow, lashes peeling apart liked they’d been coated with honey.  
    I was trying to decide what to make of that pronouncement.  
    Peaceful sounded just a touch too close to boring, I was thinking.  
    “What I mean is, you make me want peace . . . you bring me peace.   Believe it or not, this is a very mellow version of me.
    I eyed him.   “Are you serious?”   I sincerely did not think he was.
    “Yeah.   Scary, huh?”  
    To be honest, it was a bit scary, because I’d never seen him approaching anything close to mellow.   Never seen him at anything less than intense.  
    I’d hate to see him at full speed.  
    Yikes.  
    And then my mind wandered back to what he’d just said and how it pertained to me.  
    Wow.   He really had come up with something sweet.  
    He with the deeply cold eyes, always so intensely frigid had somehow found the words to warm me, head to toe.  

    I thought he might have stayed the night that time when he was finished with me in the wee hours of the morning, but I wasn’t sure, because I was certain that he didn’t sleep in my bed with me.   I’d have noticed a thing like that.
    Instead, I suspected he camped out in another room, on my couch maybe.   I couldn’t have said why I suspected that, looking at the thing.   Not a cushion was out of place, but that was no matter.   He was the type to leave things just how he’d found them.    
    I’d never seen him relax, not for a second.   Even when I was sitting, drinking my wine, he had remained standing, pacing, waiting.   Never just holding still, and only lying down for activities that did not involve anything remotely close to sleeping or resting.
    Either way, he was gone in the morning when I woke up.

    It should be noted that casual sex might have suited me just fine.   I’ll never know.   Heath was simply not the man to try it with.   He hit every single one of my hot buttons.    

        

CHAPTER  
    ELEVEN

    I shut and locked the door, lingering there for a moment.  
    What a strange night that had been.   What a strange kiss.      
    It was the oddest thing.  
    I’d just been on a date with my friend Dair.   We’d been flirting for quite some time, but we were both so busy, and hesitant, that it never went anywhere.   And then he’d called me out of the blue, wanting to go out on an actual date.   I couldn’t think of one good reason to turn him down, and so I went.
    I really liked Dair, knew he was the kind of man I should want, but my heart just wasn’t in it.  
    Perhaps I wasn’t ready to move on yet.   The divorce had happened over a year ago, but it had been a long, ugly marriage.  
    Oh, and there was the small matter of my sometimes lover.   But that situation was less about moving on, and more about getting off, or so I told myself.      
    “What was that ?” a deep, biting voice barked at me from the darkness of my living room.    
    Of course I knew who it was instantly, but still, I jumped about a foot.  
    Think of the devil.  
    “You,” I said, breathless now, heart rate accelerated with more than fear with those three rough words.  
    “Me,” he agreed.   “Come here.”  
    I shouldn’t have listened.  
    I should have turned on a light and demanded to know why he’d broken into my home.   I should have asked him ‘ Was the door unlocked this time?’   Because of course it hadn’t been.
    But all I could remember when I heard that rough, bar brawler voice was pleasure that remained so acute in my mind it made my whole body tingle just with the memory.  
    I moved toward the chair he sat in slowly, just making out his shadowy figure by the dim light cast from the street lamps out front.