Flattening her lips, she thrust the vacuum head under the sofa with a little more force than necessary.
“I don’t live in a bubble,” she grumbled under her breath. Just because her lifestyle was different than Zoie’s didn’t mean there was anything wrong with it or her. Zoie was a free spirit, an adventuress, while Gina enjoyed a quieter, calmer existence.
And she wasn’t lonely, she told herself. She wasn’t like Zoie, who constantly needed to be surrounded with noise and color, in order to be happy. Gina was perfectly content with her life just the way it was.
Or she had been, until Case came along.
Giving the vacuum an angry shove, she fisted her hands on her hips, as the upright machine went careening across the room and crashed into her dining table. He was the problem. Case Fortune. He’d dropped into her world like the proverbial Prince Charming and started making her question everything she’d once held dear.
Mainly, her virginity.
Groaning, she snatched up the stuffed toad from the sofa and flopped down, burying her face in its soft fabric. She’d never considered sex a sport, as did many of her peers. To her, sex was special, sacred, an act two people in love shared exclusively with one another.
If that was true, then why was she always thinking about having sex with Case? she asked herself. She didn’t love him. Heck, she barely knew him! So what if his kisses turned her insides to warm butter? Big deal. And who cared if he was drop-dead handsome? In today’s world, pretty faces were a dime a dozen. And so what if he did the sweetest, most romantic things? Any man with a finger could punch in a florist’s number and order a shipload of flowers. And it certainly didn’t take a genius to fold a piece of paper into an airplane and sail it through a window.
But few men did those kinds of things. It took someone special to even think of doing them. Someone thoughtful, kind, generous. Someone with a heart.
She slowly drew the stuffed toad from her face, her eyes wide. Was Case truly the kind of man she’d just described? She racked her brain, trying to think of instances where he’d displayed the traits she’d once attributed to him—cold, heartless, driven.
He had to be all of those things, she told herself. A businessman like Case didn’t climb to the position he was currently in without stepping on a few people along the way. Her own father had sacrificed family in favor of business. Surely Case had done the same.
But then she remembered the loving comments he’d made about his mother, while gazing at the portrait of her that hung in his room; his concern for his step-mother when she’d appeared about to faint; the easy camaraderie she’d witnessed between he and his siblings the night he’d invited her to have dinner with his family.
Had she misjudged him? she asked herself honestly. Had she blown any future she might’ve had with him by refusing to have sex with him?
She firmed her jaw. If so, that was just too bad. Her virginity was important to her, a gift she intended to give to her husband, to the man she loved. If Case wrote her off just because she wouldn’t have sex with him, then he wasn’t the man for her.
A knock on the door jerked her from her thoughts. Sure that it was Zoie coming to apologize for all the mean things she’d said that morning, she pushed to her feet, thinking she might make her friend squirm for a while before forgiving her. After all, the things Zoie had said were cruel and totally untrue.
But when she opened the door, it was Case, not Zoie, standing in the hallway.
“Case,” she said in surprise.
“Are you filming a pancake commercial?” he teased.
Remembering that she had wrapped her hair in a bandanna, she ripped the scarf from her head and balled it into her fist. “Sorry. I was cleaning house.”
He lifted a brow. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Flustered, she stepped back, allowing him to enter. “Sorry,” she murmured as she closed the door behind him.
“That’s twice you’ve apologized in the same number of minutes.” He bit back a smile. “Usually that’s a sign of a guilty conscience.”
She ducked her head, blushing. “More like embarrassment. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting company.” She peered up at him curiously, suddenly remembering the time. “What are you doing over here at this time of day? Shouldn’t you be at the office?”
“I’m playing hooky.”
“Really?” she said in surprise. “Somehow you don’t seem the type.”
“Here we go with that ‘type’ thing again,” he said wearily.
She winced. “Sorry.”
“That’s three,” he said, then smiled, “But you’re right. Ordinarily I don’t skip out early, but I figured I might as well leave, since I wasn’t accomplishing anything, anyway.” He gave her a hopeful look. “I was hoping I could talk you into playing hooky with me.”
She glanced down at her front and wrinkled her nose at the sight of her faded sweat suit and stocking feet. “I’m not exactly dressed for an outing.”
“I was thinking more about a movie marathon.” He lifted his briefcase and gave it a pat. “I came prepared with a half dozen DVDs, a box of microwave popcorn and a six-pack of beer.”
She choked a laugh. “Are you serious?”
He plopped his briefcase down on the dining table, flipped up the latches and lifted the lid. Inside were a stack of DVDs, as well as the aforementioned boxes of popcorn and six-pack of beer.
“You are serious” she said in disbelief.
He shrugged off his coat, then loosened the knot of his tie. “So? What do you say? Are you game for a movie marathon?”
Laughing, she plucked the box of popcorn from the briefcase and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make the popcorn, while you cue up the DVD.”
By the time the credits rolled on the last movie, Gina and Case were spooned on the sofa, with Case at her back and one of his legs hooked over hers.
She dabbed a tissue at her eyes. “That movie always makes me cry.”
“Me, too.”
She snapped her head around to peer at him, then dug an elbow into his ribs. “Liar. You didn’t cry.”
“I did, too,” he insisted.
Picking up the remote, she aimed it at the TV. “Men,” she muttered, and turned off the set.
“Just because we don’t wear our emotions for all the world to see, doesn’t mean we have don’t have any.”
She shifted to her back to look up at him. “And that’s to say that women do?”
He swiped a tear from her cheek and lifted it for her to see. “There’s your proof.”
Chuckling, she swatted his hand away. “Okay, so I’m a wimp and cry at sad movies.”
He bent his head to nuzzle her cheek. “Never argue with me. I’m always right.”
She gave his head a playful push. “Your ego is showing again.”
He dipped his head over hers. “Let’s make out,” he whispered against her lips.
Gina knew she shouldn’t. Not when she knew what making out might lead to.
But before she could tell him no, he cupped a palm over her breast and her resistance slipped away. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face closer.
His kiss seemed to last forever. Little nips of his teeth; deep, greedy thrusts of his tongue. Whispered words that had no meaning, save her name. Hands that stroked