Driven To Distraction. Tina Wainscott

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      5

      BARRETT TILTED his head and looked at Stacy. “How is this?”

      His blue eyes looking at her with something sort of close to adoration was a bit too much to handle, even if it wasn’t real. Just the fact that this hunky, broad-shouldered man was trying to look adoring sent a tickle right through her belly.

      “Why don’t we hold hands?” she said, reaching to take his hand in hers.

      “Why?”

      The doorbell rang again, but she could only stare at Barrett, who was totally serious. And then she realized she didn’t know how to answer his simple question. “Because that’s what people do when they’re dating.”

      She expected a soft handhold, considering he hadn’t a clue, but when he grasped her hand, it was firm and solid and felt all kinds of good.

      The corner of his mouth lifted. “Oh, right. I knew that.”

      She tugged him toward the door. “Couples hold hands because it feels good. It connects them. It’s romantic.” She gave him a wry smile. “But you knew that.”

      He was looking at their linked hands as she opened the door to find Nita standing there wearing a tank top and a pair of tight-fitting jeans. Her red hair was teased wanton-woman style. Her blue eyes smoldered with a come-hither look. For a retired woman, Nita was one hot mama. But she was in no way the right hot mama for Barrett.

      Nita’s smile faded when she saw Stacy. It crumpled completely when she spotted their linked hands. “You?”

      Stacy nodded, wishing for one slightly—okay, really—insane moment it was true.

      Barrett was still staring at their linked hands, a look of wonder on his face. He’d clearly taken the adoration thing a bit too far. Stacy squeezed his hand, and he finally looked at Nita.

      “Hello,” he said with a genuine smile.

      Nita looked again at their hands, as though she still couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and said, “I…just wanted to see how you liked my Tater Tot casserole.”

      “We’re eating it right now,” he said. “It’s interesting.”

      “Glad you’re enjoying it,” she said in a distracted tone, still taking the two of them in. “Well, guess I’ll cruise and leave you two to it. I…”

      The buzzing sound coming from down the street drew their attention. Barrett leaned out the door and scoped out the otherwise peaceful community.

      “It’s the Power Squadron,” Stacy explained.

      They came into view, a group of women power walking—Stacy would never tell them they looked like ducks—and power talking—the buzzing sound. They wore matching pink T-shirts—made by Stacy, of course—with flamingos in bomber gear. Arlene, as usual, was pushing a triplet’s baby stroller filled with her blue poodles. The group all glanced at the house at different times, and each stopped when they saw Stacy and Barrett standing in the doorway holding hands. To cover their blundering and stumbling, they waved, said hello in too-high voices and pushed onward.

      Nita gave a long-suffering sigh. “Might as well join ’em, since there doesn’t seem to be any other interesting ways to increase my heart rate tonight.”

      The buzzing grew louder when Nita joined the squadron. They couldn’t believe Stacy had snagged the smart guy. Well, phooey on them. It was okay if she didn’t believe she could snag a guy like Barrett, but they didn’t have to look so darned surprised.

      “That ought to hold them,” she said, noticing he hadn’t released her hand yet, enjoying the feel of smooth palms and pencil calluses and hoping he’d hold it for a while longer.

      He was studying their hands again. “This holding hands thing is interesting.”

      She tried not to sound too horrified when she said, “Interesting like Nita’s Tater Tot casserole?”

      He turned their hands at an angle. “Interesting in a different way.” He met her gaze and said, “Arousing.”

      “Arousing,” she repeated in an airy voice, not sure if she was agreeing or clarifying that he’d actually used that word.

      He rubbed his thumb over her skin, back and forth. He had hands more suitable for a carpenter than a research scientist. They were strong, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. The kind of hand that would look really good sliding across her stomach or down her thigh, for instance.

      She СКАЧАТЬ