Satellite of Love. Christa Maurice

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      By the time he parked in her driveway, Maureen had been wrestling with the idea of coffee for five minutes. If she invited him in, he might take it to mean something more than the offer of a hot beverage on a chill night. Worse, she wasn’t sure if she didn’t mean it to be something more, which was completely out of character.

      Dinner had been nice. Weird, but nice. Michael could recite whole episodes of The Simpsons with voices. He’d claimed he was working on the movie, but hadn’t had time to study it yet. That made up for the fact that the entire wait staff had gone crazy.

      Tara hung around the table so much, Maureen had no idea how much soda she’d drunk. Every time her glass dropped below two thirds full, Tara swooped in to refill it. Jenny Riggs argued with a customer over their check until she was screaming and Joe had to come out to settle things. Jenny had stood in the middle of the dining room clutching her glasses in her fist so she could rub tears out of her eyes with both hands. Odder still, it appeared they hadn’t been arguing over the price, but the paper it was written on. Then Benny tripped over the jukebox power cord, unplugging it, and no one bothered to plug it back in.

      “This the place?” Michael asked.

      “I know it’s not much to look at.” What did he see when he looked at her tiny house? A one story yellow brick box on a postage stamp lawn? But hers, all hers. “I had a nice time tonight.”

      “What are you doing tomorrow?”

      “What?”

      He turned in his seat, leaning toward her. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

      Why was he asking about tomorrow? “Well, I was thinking about doing some laundry.”

      He reached for her, but instead of stopping at her hand like she expected, he ran his fingers up her arm, over her shoulder and around the back of her neck. The electric sensation continued down her spine causing her thighs to clench and her nipples to tighten in sympathy. So out of character. “That sounds like one of those excuses,” he murmured.

      “It’s not. I can’t really go anywhere. No car, remember?” She tried to draw a breath, but her lungs didn’t seem interested.

      “I’ll take you anywhere you want.” Michael brushed his lips across her cheek.

      A whimper escaped her. “Anywhere? What if I said Paris?”

      “I’d take you to Paris. Get your passport.” He kissed the corner of her mouth.

      “I have to be back on Monday for school.”

      “The Concorde is really fast.”

      “The Concorde doesn’t fly anymore.”

      He pressed his lips to hers.

      Maureen closed her eyes. Her fingers clutched his leather jacket. This was not like her at all. First dates ended with a chaste kiss at the door followed by a minimum one week interval before the second date. Michael was so unlike any man she’d ever dated. Something about him made her feel like she was standing at the edge of a volcano, considering hopping in to test the temperature of the lava.

      His tongue brushed across her lips.

      She pulled back. “Slow down there, cowboy.”

      Michael stared at her. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the car.

      Cowboy? Urg. Well, it had been nice while it lasted. Before she screwed it up, she’d had the focused attention of a really sexy guy for a whole evening.

      He bit his lip and shook his head once. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”

      “Are you serious?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “But I’m a prude,” she blurted out.

      Michael shrugged. “I can work with that. How about I pick you up around noon? We’ll grab some lunch and go see what there is to do.” He jumped out of the car and hurried around to the passenger door.

      Maureen looked up at him when he opened it. “You’re serious.”

      “I said I was.” Michael held out his hand.

      As he guided her from the car, she protested, “There really isn’t a lot to do around here.”

      “I’m sure we can find something.” He stopped in front of the door and looked at her expectantly.

      Her mouth went dry. What was he waiting for? An invitation in? Another kiss? Either one would be nice. Not her, but nice. What would he do if she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him?

      Dumb question.

      “Are you going to unlock the door?” he asked.

      That, on the other hand, was an excellent question.

      Maureen dug through her purse for her keys. She unlocked the door quickly as if it would make up for standing on the porch like a thunderstruck teenager. “So you’ll come over tomorrow?”

      “Noonish, and I’ll see what I can do about getting your car finished.” He kissed her cheek. “Good night, Maureen.”

      “Night.” After she’d closed her front door, she leaned against it trying to remember how to breathe. She’d lost her mind. That was the only explanation. Too many blind dates and she’d gone gaga for the guy who fixed her car. Check that. The brother of the guy who fixed her car. The way she was acting, he was a movie star.

      Well, as long as she managed to keep her head, it wouldn’t be so bad. Once he went back to wherever he lived, it would fizzle. Long distance relationships never worked for her. The two times she’d tried, they’d imploded in months and both of those had been established before the separation.

      No, this would be short and sweet, emphasis on sweet because she wasn’t going any further with some guy she was never going to see again. Especially since she had to face his brother every time her car broke down.