Neighbors

He had showered and changed. Then he changed again. Then again, and again. "What was the big deal?" he thought. Pulling on the fourth T-shirt and third pair of pants. He had started in Khakis, too formal he thought; they were having dinner here, not at a restaurant. He pulled on jeans, too faded. He didn't want to be a slob; he definitely wanted her to know he cared about how he looked for her. He opted for newer, but still comfortable jeans, but the black T-shirt would have to go. Too dark and brooding, he thought. He tried white; too white... he went for olive, nope. Finally he settled on cream, with a soft forest green long sleeve shirt over the top, unbuttoned. He ran his hands through his hair, pulled out his razor and shaved his cheeks and cleaned up his beard. He even trimmed a few nose hairs. He looked in the mirror. "Well, 'ded, this is as good as it gets...' he mused to himself, nothing more he could do. He went downstairs to check dinner and put some music in the stereo. He opted for classical, couldn't go wrong with classical he thought. He looked at his watch, 5:00. No sign of her. He went in to open the wine in the kitchen. 5:01, he fidgeted. He looked out the kitchen window. 5:02, where was she? He could see her kitchen clock; it said the same as his. 5:03, was she coming? He took a deep breath. "My god, 'ded, she's only 3 minutes late... don't assume anything yet." Remembering he had seen her in the kitchen a little more than an hour ago. She had smiled at him and pointed upstairs. 5:04, no Abby... time had slowed to a crawl as he started to get nervous. What would he say to her?

He had thought a lot this afternoon about the possibility that she had no idea who he was. She hadn't let on last night by the pool that she recognized him, or his name. It occurred to him, that he wasn't used to people not knowing him anymore. Since the movies he had made and the fuss about his relationships in the rag papers he had had a hard time walking down the street in L.A. He reminded himself that this is why he had opted to come to Vancouver; people here didn't take much notice. He had more anonymity. But when it came to her, he had struggled with the idea of whether it would be to his benefit or not, for her to know who he was. It hit him early that afternoon that he had actually come to rely on people knowing who he was to break the ice. People would automatically give him a certain status when they knew who he was, all he had to do was smile, and women would melt. He thought back to her responses to him, when he had seen her before he left for the party, she had smiled and waved, but timidly. At the pool, she never let on that she knew him, she had said his name as she walked away like it was the first time she had ever heard a name like his. He was more and more convinced that she didn't have a clue about his career. Should he tell her right out? Certainly they would talk about what they were doing in Vancouver, should he down play it? He didn't want her to change the way she acted around him because he was an actor, but he also realized that something about her was making him insecure. He felt shy, he couldn't remember the last time anyone made him feel shy. 5:05, he was pacing in the dining room. Then he saw her door open and she stepped out. Cautiously, she took a deep breath before she headed down to the sidewalk. He smiled, feeling relieved, she was nervous too. He met her at the door.

"Hi," he greeted her, giving her a big smile. He stepped back for her to come in.

"Hi, Oded," she responded, stepping past him into his living room. She could hear the classical music. Nice, she thought. She turned to him. "Thank you again for the dinner invitation, I'm so pleased to know that at least one of my new neighbors is friendly." She smiled up at him, and felt her cheeks flush, as his eyes didn't quite meet hers.

He had to drag his eyes back up to hers when she had turned in the living room. When she had stepped in the door, he had dropped his gaze to peruse her from head to foot, or in this case, from foot to head. The silk skirt she wore was slit on either side and as she stepped in he could see the curve of her ankle and calf. The silk followed her curves up to her hips and as she stepped in front of him he found his gaze on the curve at the small of her back, as his eyes swept back down her backside. Just then she turned and he had to quickly look up or he would get caught in his rather brazen perusal of her. She blushed immediately and he realized she had indeed busted him. He chuckled deeply. "Sorry, " he offered, "you look fantastic." He beamed, as he realized that she smelled as beautiful as she looked. He couldn't figure out what her perfume was.

"Thank you." She answered. She wasn't used to being looked at quite this obviously, and she blushed a little deeper. "You look pretty spectacular yourself." She offered. Now it was his turn to blush, and she could tell it from his ears. She laughed softly, looking down at the floor.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, heading for the kitchen, with her following behind.

"Yes, please..." she had answered, as he stepped ahead of her. Now it was her turn to admire him. She followed a few steps behind, taking in the view. He did indeed look spectacular. The cream of his shirt made his skin look warm and dark. The hair at the back of his neck looked newly trimmed. His jeans flexed against his thigh muscles as he walked. He was barefoot. He oozed sexuality. She wished he hadn't worn the button down shirt, or at least that he had tucked it in, so she could admire his ass. He stepped into the kitchen and looked up as he turned to hand her a glass of Riesling.

"I can't tell you how pleased I am that you decided to come tonight. I really felt horrible about scaring you like that last night. I really am a wonderfully nice guy..." Had he really just said that? He thought. "Try to seem a little more desperate, 'ded" he heard in his head.

She laughed out loud. "Well, I'll let you know if I agree at the end of dinner..."

"Fair enough," he answered. Silence. They stood there, looking at each other. They both sipped their wine.

"What is she thinking?" he wondered to himself. Not sure what to say.

"What is he thinking?" she wondered to herself. Not sure what to say.

She broke the silence. "What is that great smell?" she offered.

"What?... oh... dinner. I decided to try to make my mother's famous hummus and flat bread. With lamb and beans. But I'll apologize right now; I think the lamb turned out tough. Are you hungry?"

"Mmmm... I'm starving. Oded, where are you from?" she asked rather forwardly.

"Los Angeles." He answered. "Why, where are you from?" Not understanding why she had asked the question when she did, he gave a guarded answer, turning to grab the bread and hummus.

"Me? I'm from Minnesota." She answered. "Born and raised there all my life... I only asked because last night when we met at the pool I thought I heard an accent in your voice, and the food tonight, I've only ever had hummus with a friend I had in graduate school who was Middle-eastern. I thought perhaps you were from Israel, and your name..."

He smiled. She was perceptive. "Actually, I was born in Tel Aviv and grew up there. My last home before Vancouver was Los Angeles. So you like hummus?" he asked, excited that perhaps she would appreciate the food he grew up on.

"I do, yes... the more garlic the better, although I feel like I smell like a clove of garlic for days afterward."

"You don't smell anything like garlic," he said, as he walked past her, raising his eyebrows at her and smiling. She smiled back as she followed him, a little quiver of heat running down her spine. He was indeed charming, she thought.

They walked towards the dining room where Oded put the hummus and bread on the table. She ripped off a corner and dipped it in, tasting it. It was excellent. He smiled, she even knew to dip and not spread it with a knife. He realized she had mentioned that a friend from graduate school had introduced her to this. "Graduate school?" he thought.

"Abby, what did you go to graduate school for?" he asked.

She didn't answer immediately. She hadn't intended to tell him that so soon. "Biology," she answered rather flatly.

"Biology," he repeated. "Just biology?" he asked inquisitively. His eyebrows arching upwards.

She suddenly felt awkward. She had never felt nervous talking about her passion for science. But for some reason, she was hesitant to tell him what she did. Maybe she was afraid if he didn't find it interesting that this would already forecast the end of the date. She desperately wanted him to be interested in what she did, and less than ten minutes into this date she was going to forced to put him to the test, knowing that some people were easily intimidated by her career choice.

"Actually, molecular biology," she threw it out there, matter of factly.

"Really!?" he choked on his wine.

"Yes, really... why, don't I look like I could be a molecular biologist?" she prodded him.

"You don't look like any molecular biologist I've ever met," he quipped.

"How many have you met?"

"Well, I guess you are the first. But come on... be honest, do all molecular biologists look like you? If they do, I'm in the wrong line of work..." he realized that several times now he had blatantly flirted with her and he mentally kicked himself for being so obvious.

She blushed. She realized she was leaning against the corner of the dining room table, and he was close enough to lean into her as he reached over for bread and hummus. He smiled down at her, as his wrist brushed against her arm. She could smell the same spicy, musky scent on him as the night before. Her brain momentarily went cloudy with the aroma and warmth of him as he stood so close to her.

"Well, exactly what line of work are you in?" she asked, diverting the conversation away from her, standing up a little straighter and stepping away from the table a little.

He paused. He didn't answer her. It was too soon to overwhelm her he thought. "I have to grab the lamb," he evaded her question. "Have a seat, I'll be right back with the rest of dinner." He pulled out her chair for her and she tentatively sat.

He headed for the kitchen. As he pulled the lamb out of the oven, he sighed deeply. "Molecular biologist?... wow..." he suddenly felt a little out of his league. This woman was smart and beautiful. He felt that insecurity returning again. He laughed a little to himself when he realized that it was likely she wasn't going to be impressed that he was an actor. This was a switch. His thoughts went back to her and science; he guessed she must have taken a position as a research technician at one of the new biotech companies in Vancouver. He imagined her in a white lab coat, working at a lab bench over a bunsen burner. The only image of a scientist he had ever had. She would look out of place he thought. He grabbed the green beans out of the fridge and headed back to the dining room.

She sat quietly in the dining room while he was in the kitchen. The smell of him still in her head, and the heat of him still radiating against her body. He had joked with her about being a molecular biologist, but he hadn't flinched about it. She smiled; he had complimented her when he teased her about not looking like a typical scientist. He was flirting with her. She liked that. But he had evaded her question about what he did. Was he hiding something? She'd ask him again, she thought. Trying not to let her head get ahead of her.

He set the rest of dinner down on the table and sat in the chair along the right side of the table from her, not across from her. His leg brushed against her calf as he sat down, and he left it there, lightly touching her ankle. She caught her breath and for a second she pulled her leg slightly backward toward her chair. But changed her mind, and let it move forward again, against his. She hoped he wouldn't notice she had moved. But he did, and more importantly he noticed she had moved it back. He smiled to himself as he picked up his wineglass.

"So Oded," she launched back in, as he served the lamb. "What did you say you do?" she tried to ask as innocently as she could, very aware of every subtle movement that his leg made against hers. She could feel the same electricity as last night when he had held her hand in his. Her body was tingling all over.

He chuckled deeply and it resonated in his chest, as he looked up at her. "I didn't," he replied honestly. She looked at him, waiting, expectantly. Her eyes glittering. She was trying to keep her face resolute, but the faintest glint of a smile tugged at her lips as he sparkled back at her, his lips together. She sat, holding her fork in her right hand, her wine in her left, waiting for him to answer her. She stood her ground... he finally smiled and looked away. The feel of her ankle against his leg, the look in her eyes, the way she held her shoulders straight to him. Every little bit of it was subtle, but it was all hitting him like a sledgehammer. His body was responding to hers, and he was suddenly very glad he had worn a shirt that was untucked.

The moment of truth for him he thought, not knowing that she had had the same concern just a few minutes before. "I work for a T.V. show that is being filmed here in Vancouver," he offered, slowly testing the waters.

"Really, that would explain L.A."

"Hmmm... yes, that would explain why I came from L.A." he left it open.

"So, what do you do for the T.V. show?" Now she prodded him, as he had prodded her after her vague 'biology' answer.

"Actually, I'm an actor on the show."

"Really?!" Now she choked on her wine.

"Yes, really!" He turned the tables on her. "Why, ...Don't I look like I could be an actor on a TV show?" This little game was becoming a bit of a joke for them both.

"Actually, you do look like you could be an actor on a TV show." She smiled and looked down, blushing at her obvious compliment about his looks. "What is the show? Would I have seen it?"

"No, not yet, it's new this fall, we just started taping last month," He answered as she looked down. He had seen the blush on her cheeks again. She was flirting with him as well. He had to readjust the way he was sitting in his seat, or his pants would cut off all circulation to his feet. He moved his legs and lost contact with her.

She glanced up at him, then quickly back at her plate as the pressure of his leg against her ankle vanished. She moved her leg forward hoping to reach his, but then sat up straighter, instead tucking her legs under her chair, crossed at the ankles, letting the heat building in her body subside a little. She unconsciously took a deeper breath as she let out some of the tension she had been holding in her stomach. He noticed and although he wished he could touch her again, he sat up a little straighter himself.

"Well, have you done anything else I might have seen?" she asked, again very innocently, glancing up.

She seemed to be taking this really well he thought. He had been correct in the kitchen; she wasn't shocked by what he did, although that shyness he had detected was starting to show through. And he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her hand, which she now had resting on her napkin next to her plate. He debated for a second, moved his fingers, but then decided he didn't want to push her.

"I've done a couple of movies, maybe you've seen those," He offered, somewhat tentatively.

"What movies?" she asked, stabbing a green bean with her fork.

"I was in the Mummy, and the sequel to it."

"When were they out?" she asked, "I don't think I've seen them, what were they about?"

He didn't know quite what to say. In every situation he had been in since those movies had come out all he had to mention was the 'Mummy', and people immediately knew the films, even if they hadn't recognized him specifically. Did she really not know the films? "Brendan Frasier and Rachael Weisz starred in them, they played characters who woke up this priest who had been mummified, who then tried to destroy the world and resurrect his lost love, until we returned him to the underworld." That was an adequate synopsis, he thought.

"And who did you play?"

"Abby, you're not teasing me are you? You really haven't seen the movie?"

"No, Oded, I swear!" she suddenly realized that he might be insulted that she didn't know who he was. "I'm sorry, I don't ever go to the movies, or watch T.V., I'm a little clueless, really." She tried an apologetic smile. His heart beat faster as he saw her eyes grow incredibly soft. He had to look away from her.

"I played a character named Ardeth Bay. He is the leader of the tribe of the MedJai. An ancient group of warriors who were sworn to protect the Pharaohs, and keep the mummy from being raised again."

"But he was raised?" she asked.

"Yes."

"So, you sucked at your job."

"Hey, I wouldn't say..." he stammered.

"Sorry, Ardeth sucked at his job," she rephrased it.

"No, oh... never mind..." he gave up as she smiled gloriously at him, entertained that he had taken her teasing so seriously.

"Would you show me the movies?" she asked. 'That was bold' she thought to herself.

"Oh, I don't know." Now he blushed, his ears turning bright red. He always found it embarrassing to watch himself act.

"Please, I would return the favor of tonight, and cook you dinner if you would show me the movies you've been in." She offered, shocking herself to actually hear those words come out of her mouth. She instantly blushed, she was never this forward.

"Are you serious?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sure, why... don't you think I can cook?" she teased, trying to regain control of her responses.

He laughed out loud at this, deeply and with great gusto. She was completely amusing he thought. She smiled at him mischievously, grabbing another piece of bread.

"All right," he laughed. "Make me dinner, and I'll show you the Mummy movies." They both laughed as Oded poured more wine into their glasses.

The next hour flew by for them both. After they had gotten past the first few awkward moments they talked like they were old friends catching up after many years. Oded told her about growing up in Israel, his time in the Navy, moving to Germany and how he got started in acting. She found everything about him interesting and asked question after question. They finished the wine and Oded got up and opened a second bottle. Sitting down he was careful to find a way to set his legs under the table so that they once again touched hers. He wished he could feel her skin against his own. 'Damn jeans,' he thought. They sat at the table eating slowly, both leaving the majority of the 'tough' lamb on their plates. He had been right, it wasn't his best. She teased him about it, and he had laughed good-naturedly. He warned her to be careful about how much she teased him, since she would be the next one to try the cooking. She blushed as he reminded her they had already planned another date, which she had invited him to.

As he leaned back sipping his wine, he realized that he still knew very little about her. She had managed to keep him talking all of this time, and he was a little embarrassed about how many stories from his childhood she had managed to get out of him. He turned the tables on her, and started asking her questions.

"Abby, I don't even know what has brought you to Vancouver..." he started.

"I just moved here to start a faculty position at the University of British Columbia," she answered.

"You're a professor?" he asked, his voice cracking a bit as he sat up.

"What did you think I was?" she answered, a little startled at his response. "I told you I had finished graduate school in molecular biology."

"I just thought... " he stammered, trying to swallow his surprise a little. "I guess I just assumed that you were coming to work for a research company; I thought you were a technician. But you're a professor..." he stated, again swallowing his surprise.

"Yep," she stated matter of factly, not quite sure how to help him get over this apparent shock, and a little miffed that he would assume what he did about her job.

"So, you have a PhD?" he more stated, then asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yep," she answered again, tentatively. Not quite sure where this whole line of conversation was headed. She sat up more stiffly and put down her wineglass, resting her hand on the table.

"Wow! That's amazing! Good for you!" He beamed his million-dollar smile at her, and reached forward to take her hand in his. More impressed with her every minute. This woman could hold her own he thought, what a refreshing change from the clingy airheads he normally met.

She noticeably relaxed. She turned her hand over in his, and let him lace his fingers between her own. She smiled. "I'm really excited, " she told him. "I'll have my own lab, and I'll get to teach classes about my research..." she started to babble. He had shown her that he was excited about what she did, he was impressed, but didn't seem to be intimidated. (Which wasn't completely true, but he didn't let it show.) She went on and on, sharing about her interests, and her research. Telling him about graduate school, and how she had come to fall in love with science.

He took it all in. Her eyes shined as she talked. He had to let go of her hand, because the more she talked the more animated she became. Talking with her hands, drawing pictures in the air trying to get him to understand what she was talking about. Slowly, the conversation worked its way to her childhood and also back to his. He asked about her family, where she had grown up. She told him story after story, and he told her more about his own childhood. There they sat.

She had kicked off her sandals, and had propped her crossed feet on top of his under the table. She could feel the tendons in his feet flex under hers. His head was propped on his hand, his elbow on the table, smiling as he tried to imagine what she had looked when she was younger. She had almost no make-up on. Her natural beauty not hidden under creams and powders. He imagined the taste of her skin would be clean. But what struck him as completely endearing were the freckles on her nose. The way she wore her hair braided made her look younger than she was and he could see her as a little girl in his head, but he also knew she was now very much a woman. He had been sitting in a state of arousal for so long, he was pretty sure it was going to be hard to walk when he got up, suddenly he desperately wanted to lean across the table and kiss her.

She looked over at him and saw the look in his eyes. They were dark, and if eyes could smolder, she was sure his were definitely smoldering. A sudden heat filled her stomach; she put her hands on the table as he held her in his gaze. She knew what he was thinking; she was thinking it too. It had been forever since she had kissed a man. She panicked. She tore her eyes away, and looked at her watch.

"Oh my, Oded, did you know we've been sitting here for four hours?" she gasped. It was after 9:00. The wine was long gone; the dinner dishes still on the table. She stood up and grabbed her and his plate. "I should really help you clean up..." she stammered.

He knew he had seen the response in her eyes. When she had stopped talking and looked at him, her eyes grew wide and the gold that flecked her eyes looked like it was on fire. Her eyes had grown two shades of green darker and deeper. She wanted him, like he wanted her, he was sure of it. He was about to lean over and draw her to him, but suddenly she had stood up. He was momentarily bewildered. She was clearing the table and headed for the kitchen. He stood up slowly, watching her go. He smiled. There was that shyness again. But he knew she wanted him, he had read it in her eyes. He just had to go get her.

He blew out the almost burned down candles and grabbed the empty wineglasses from the table. He headed for the kitchen. She was standing near the counter stacking the plates by the sink, about to rinse them off. He walked up behind her and leaned over her setting the wineglasses on the counter, one arm on each side of her. She paused, then turned to face him.

As she had hurried into the kitchen, she was already berating herself for having fled. 'What was she afraid of?' she asked herself. They had just spent four hours sharing stories with one another; he was the most charming man she had ever met she thought. She would have to tell him that indeed he was a 'wonderfully nice guy', which she had promised to pass judgment on after dinner was over. Then she felt him come up behind her. She should have expected him to follow. She paused, feeling the strength from his arms on either side of her, as they pressed against her forearms. She could feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck and knew what she would see when she turned around. She took a deep breath.

"Oded," she started, as she turned around, not even sure of what she was going to say.

She never got past his name. As soon as she turned he dropped his lips to hers and kissed her. Softly, holding his lips to hers, his arms still on either side of her, not moving. Her lips were moist and incredibly soft. He broke the kiss to look in her eyes. He saw the heat of his own reflected in hers and as she took a breath he felt her chest rise to touch his as her hands moved up his arms to rest on his biceps. She was looking up at him, desire coursing through her body, and he could see it all in her eyes. She felt the peaks of her breasts harden as the silk of her shirt brushed against the hard muscles of his chest behind his T-shirt. She felt like they stood there forever, staring into each other's eyes, she tried to hold his gaze, but she felt like he was looking into her very soul and she finally dropped her eyes.

When she looked away, he dropped his hands to her waist and bent to kiss her again. As his lips touched hers, he pushed her against and up onto the counter where she now sat in front of him. She tried to open her knees as he pushed against her skirt, trying to get closer to her. But the silk of her skirt was tight across her thighs and she couldn't move. He turned her legs sideways as he leaned into her, his mouth devouring hers. His bottom lip covering all of hers and pressed hard against her mouth although it was as soft as anything she had ever felt. She had her hands on his neck and in his hair. His arms were wrapped around her waist, one hand sliding along the outside of her shirt along her ribs toward the swell of her breast. She parted her lips to let out a moan and he took advantage of the moment to taste her mouth. He could still taste the wine on her tongue, and she could taste it on his. He rubbed his thumb across the peak of her breast through the silk of her shirt and let out his own breathy moan into her mouth as she arched her back, pushing her breast against his hand, he could feel the tautness through her bra. She pulled back, breaking the kiss between them.

She whispered, "'ded, don't you think we'd be more comfortable on the couch."

"I think we'd be more comfortable up in my..." he stopped himself as the fire in his body ravaged him. He didn't want to push this; he didn't want to rush her. He pulled her down from the counter as he kissed her deeply again. His head was awash in the smell of her hair and her skin, and the taste of her mouth. He pulled her tight against his body and ran his hands along her back, pausing as he let his hands slide down her ass, pushing her against his hardness. She had said 'the couch,' and that was where he would go with her.

She was pressed against the counter, his body tight against hers. Her mind and body were reeling. He was in complete control of what was happening between them and she hung on for dear life, trying to match his kiss, as his hands wandered down her back. She felt him press her forward against him. She almost gasped, she had expected he would respond to her when he kissed her, but the feel of him against her stomach, pressing into her, sent a wave of liquid heat surging through her. She had heard clearly what he had groaned into her ear, and she knew what he had not finished saying. She fought to clear her brain as her body responded to him; she couldn't have sex with him. Not tonight. It was too soon, it had been too long, and this was too fast. But she didn't know if she could say no, if he pressed her. She knew her body had never responded this strongly to any man before and it scared her as she pushed slightly away from him.

"Abby," he moaned into her hair as they broke the kiss that had seared them both to the core. The scent of the flowers on her skin was flooding his senses.

"'ded... maybe we should finish clearing off the table." She offered. Thinking she needed a little distance between them, before her entire body threatened to melt itself into a puddle.

He chuckled a little, his nose still pressed against the top of her head. "Okay..." he mumbled, but he didn't move. His arms still wrapped around her waist, his hands firmly on the small of her back.

She was nestled against him, her cheek pressed into the curve of his neck. She inhaled deeply. He smelled so good. A little like cumin, even a little cinnamon. But he also smelled like something that was only him, musky, hormonal, warm, a little soapy. She smiled, but pushed harder on his chest to get him to back up.

He looked down into her eyes. His still smoldered, but the fury was gone. He seemed a little more rational, she thought to herself. She moved out from in front of him and grabbed a washcloth from the sink. She once again left him standing in the room as she left to clear the table.

He ran his hands through his short hair, and let out a long drawn out breath. He turned and leaned back against the counter. He hadn't felt this much lust for a woman in a long time, he thought. But it was more than that and he knew it. He had felt lust for her when he first saw her at the car. When he first let himself fantasize about her. But after spending all evening with her, sharing so many stories, memories, he had told her things he didn't think he had ever shared with any one. No, what he was feeling for her was more than lust. He chuckled to himself as he shook his head and smiled. He was falling hard and fast.

She paused in the dining room to catch her breath. Her legs felt weak; her hands shook as she tried to wipe off the table. "How could this be happening?" she wondered. She had convinced herself long before dinner had started that he was only being cordial, there was no way he was really physically attracted to her. But now he had almost suggested they go up stairs to his bedroom. She was incredibly attracted to him. "Who wouldn't be?" she bemused. "It must be the wine that is making him act this way." she somewhat sadly resolved, as she continued to wipe the table, now for the third time. She ignored every thought in her head that was trying to remind her of how much they had enjoyed each other's company and conversation over dinner, that they had held each other in rapt attention for over four hours. As always her insecurities were getting the best of her. She could hear him in the kitchen, rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. She would grab her shoes and offer him a quick good bye from the kitchen door she decided. She needed to get out of here. Before he cleared his head of the wine and regretted how far things had gone, she thought.

He had let her leave the kitchen and hadn't followed her. He had to consciously stop himself from following her; he knew she needed a little space after his onslaught on her, with that kiss. Although he could see the fire still burning in her eyes, he had also seen the indecision in them and he let her go. He cleaned up quickly, loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, he never really rinsed them as well as he should. He poured himself a glass of water, and took a long drink trying to put out some of the flames he felt in his body. He would slow things down; he had slipped when he had almost suggested they go upstairs. He wanted her underneath him in the worst way, wanted to feel her skin under his hands, wanted to make her wet with desire for him, wanted her to ache for him, as he ached for her. She had kissed him as deeply as he had kissed her, he knew the desire was there. But he could also sense that she might be more innocent than she was letting on. She was old enough to have plenty of experience, but she didn't carry herself that way. She seemed hesitant, not really knowing what to do with her hands, struggling with her skirt when he had pushed her up onto the counter. It was just a hunch, but he guessed there had been maybe only a few men in her past, and he got the distinct feeling there hadn't been anyone in a while. His mind went back to the feel of her mouth, the smell of her hair, the way her breast had responded to his touch and immediately his arousal and need to touch her re-intensified. He went to find her.

"Abby, " he started.

"Oded," she interrupted, "I should go..." She had her sandals in her hand.

"Oh no you should not..." he told her, his voice warm and deep. He was standing right in front of her. He reached out for her hand and pulled it up to his lips, kissing her knuckles, then brushing them against the softness of the beard along his mouth. He looked down into her eyes, trying to read what she really wanted, and could see it was not what she said. With his other hand he tilted her chin up, and leaned down to kiss her again as he draped her wrist around his neck. She ran her fingers up into the hair at the nape of his neck and melted into his kiss. He pushed her mouth open with his tongue and caressed the inside slowly, while his hands now on her back pressed her tightly against his solid frame. He could feel the strength in her back from all the swimming she did through the silk, but knew her skin would be soft and warm. He slid his hands along her waist to find the bottom of her shirt and swept his fingers underneath to caress her back as slowly as he caressed her mouth. He bent to pull her up against him wrapping his arms tightly around the bare skin of her back and lifted her, never breaking the kiss he held her it. She wrapped her arms around his neck; sandals still in hand and hung onto him tightly as he took several long strides across the dining room to the couch in the living room. He would not allow her to leave him. Not yet.

She just about swooned in his arms. The strength of his hands on her back, but the gentle stroking of his fingers along her spine overwhelmed her. His tongue languidly searched her mouth, tasting every part of her, then swirling around her tongue to taste her again. She kept her fingers locked in the wispy hairs at the base of his neck, while her other hand holding her sandals pressed against his ribcage. She could feel him as he bent to pick her up and she let him. She knew he was headed for the couch, and could do nothing to stop him. So much for trying to get out of here before he regretted what he had done. She ached inside and thought that she had never wanted anything more than him.

When he reached the couch, he set her feet back on the floor and only then did he break his kiss as he quickly turned, sitting down on the couch, pulling her down with him, across his lap. Her feet were up, resting on the leather cushion on one side of his thighs. He had sat leaving just enough room to let her backside rest on the cushion on the other side of his legs, pressing her deeply into the corner of the couch. One arm around her waist between her and the back of the sofa, he pulled her tight against his chest as he leaned into her neck pressing slow kisses down the hollow of her throat. He traced her collarbone with his lips. He could feel her shiver under his mouth. She had placed her head back on the arm of the couch and let him work down her throat. She swallowed and closed her eyes as she let herself feel every bit of him against her. She played softly with his hair, tracing the line of his ear; he turned his head to kiss her wrist as she touched his temple then cheek. Her other arm was draped over the arm of the couch, pushing her shoulder forward to help him, as he held her close to him. His outside hand rested on her leg. As she relaxed into him and he continued to taste the skin of her throat and shoulders, he started to stroke the outside of her thigh through the silk with his fingers. He let his hand wander to her ankle and find the edge of her skirt, slowly he slide his hand underneath to feel the soft smooth skin of her leg. He traced the curve of her calf and caressed the back of her knee as he moved up. He let his hand come over the top of her knees, as he tried to slide his hand between them, but she didn't part her knees an atom. He smiled against her neck, and she could feel his teeth on her skin as he grinned and chuckled softly. 'Yep, more innocent then she lets on', he thought, 'I can wait for her...' She drew her head up to look at him, and as she did he leaned up to kiss her again on the mouth. His hand, still under her skirt, moved back to the outside of her leg, and quickly slide up the outside of her thigh, all the way to her hip, pressing her legs against his stomach, as his fingers grazed against her bare skin.

She tried to sit up against him when she felt his hand on her thigh, but he held her so tightly she immediately relaxed against him again. She tried to match his tongue with her own as he kissed her deeply again, but could do little more than try to hold herself against him. She wrapped her arm under his, now touching the muscles in his back, feeling them flex as he held her tight and continued to caress the outside of her leg. She struggled with the feelings he was creating in her body. She wanted to feel his hand between her legs, stroking her, making her writhe, but then her entire body blushed at the image of that in her own head. The taste of his mouth, which she was exploring with her tongue, was delicious, and her head swam with conflict. She wanted him so badly, but knew this was going too fast.

He pulled back from her, breaking the kiss they had been locked in, letting her back fall into the corner of the couch, her arm dropped away from him. Her other hand, still on his shoulder, playing with the hair behind his ear. He didn't move his hand from her hip, and continued to hold her legs tightly against him. He dropped his head against her breasts and inhaled deeply. Almost breathlessly asking in his deep, sensual voice, "Abby, what is the perfume you are wearing... it's intoxicating."

She laughed a little, her breasts moving under his cheek. "Wildflowers," she answered.

"I've never heard of it." He looked up at her, his eyes deep with passion, he smiled.

She reached across him and touched his bottom lip with her fingers. "It's not a perfume, it's actually wildflowers." She smiled at him.

He sat up a little straighter, the initial heat of dragging her onto the couch subsiding, he was trying to slow down again, and get more control. He looked at her curiously, his eyebrows arching. "What do you mean, you actually are wearing wildflowers? What do you do, crush them against your skin?" He remembered that she had carried a handful of flowers into her house before they had dinner.

"You forget..." she teased him, as she ran her fingers along the line of his jaw, feeling the edge of the beard he wore there, then rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm a scientist... I crush them and dissolve them in alcohol and water. Then I mist it into the air to put it on my skin. Best use of chemistry I ever learned."

He was impressed. She was creative and damn smart. He wondered how much of her skin she had misted? His hand on her hip touched the edge of her panties, they were not silky. He couldn't help himself; he had to ask her... "Abby, what do you wear to bed?"

"What?... why would you ask me that?" she stammered, immediately blushing crimson.

"Just humor me." He quipped, smiling sexily at her.

She looked at him seriously, and decided to answer him truthfully, sitting up taller, straightening her legs on his lap as his hand moved back to her knees, which she still kept very tightly together. She ran her hands over her hair, tucking the hairs that had come loose from her braid behind her ears. "Well, I'm afraid it's not very sexy... but if you must know... "

His eyes glittered at her as he waited for her to answer, he knew what she would say, but wanted to hear it. "I'm a T-shirt and cotton panties type of girl." He beamed at her, and the first scene from the fantasy he had popped into his head. She had no idea how sexy her T-shirt and white cotton Hanes were to him. "Why... what do you wear?" she asked a little irked by the huge smile he had on his face. She thought he was teasing her.

Now he did laugh. He removed his hand from under the edge of her skirt, and took her hand in his, lacing his fingers with hers then squeezing them together. "Oh, xatixa, if I told you, you would blush deeper than any other time you have tonight." He laughed again. And she did blush, what he said told her exactly what the answer was. The image of him, naked, lying in bed just about undid her. The heat between her legs was threatening to boil over. She tried to turn in his lap and put her feet on the floor, but he held her in place with his elbow.

He still had his other arm around her and now he pulled her closer to him as he felt her try to turn in his lap. He wasn't ready to let her go, and as he bent to take her lips again he shifted his position further down the couch, lifting her with him. He sat her on the cushion and still holding her chest close to his, his hand on her back, stretched up her spine and supporting her neck, his other hand still entwined with hers, he stretched it over her head, leaning forward, laying her down. He let go of her fingers and ran his hand down her arm and along her ribs until his fingers encircled the swell of her breast. He could feel the taut peak straining against the silk as she arched her back towards him. He shifted his hips under her to try and lay down next to her on the couch, pulling the edge of her shirt up over her stomach, overwhelming her with the strength and depth of his kiss. He wanted to make love to her, even if that meant it would be here on the couch.

She knew she was going to fall before he did. As he laid her down and stretched her arm upward she could feel the edge of the couch under her shoulder. But then when he shifted his hips to try and lay down next to her she shifted over the edge and fell out of his arms. The next thing she knew she was laying on the floor and he was leaning over the edge looking down at her, a look of shock on his face. She started to laugh. She lay there laughing so hard, she had to grab her stomach as her muscles started to hurt, tears rolling down her face. He lay on the couch looking down, laughing with her.

"I don't think you've got that move perfected yet..." she teased him.

"Sorry about that," he tried to apologize. "Come back up here and we'll try it again," he offered suggestively. He sat up and reached down to help her sit up, but she just continued to lie there, chuckling and wiping tears from her eyes.

"Oh my..." she gasped, finally taking his hand and sitting up on the carpet. She glanced up and looked at the clock. It was getting late. They had been kissing on the couch much longer than she or he had realized. "Oded, I really have to go..." She pulled herself to a stand and started looking for her shoes.

"But... " He stood there stymied. He didn't want this evening to end. He knew it was getting late, but tomorrow would start a busy week for them both, and he didn't know when he would get to see her again. He turned to find her bent over the couch trying to retrieve her sandal from behind it. The sight of her gorgeous ass, and curvy hips sent pain through his body. He almost couldn't control himself. She glanced back under her arm and saw the look on his face as she realized the precarious situation she had put herself in. She grabbed her shoe and quickly stood up as he reached for her hip.

"Oded, I really do have to go. I start work tomorrow." She placed her hands on his chest to stop him from pulling her any closer.

"I know... I know... I have an early day tomorrow too... but even after you leave, I don't think I'm going to get much sleep... so stay... please." He leaned down and whispered in her ear, as he tried to wind his arms around her and tried to kiss again.

She almost let him pull her close, almost let him kiss her. But she knew it would be next to impossible to stop if he kissed her again, the way he had before. " 'ded... tonight can not be the night. You have to know that." she struggled to get out before his lips grazed hers.

"I know..." he sighed. Letting her go and taking her hands in his. "I know... when can we do this again?" he asked, his voice deep and sultry, as they walked towards the door.

"You mean dinner?" she asked as innocently as she could.

He chuckled. "Yes, dinner."

"Well... remember you promised to show me the Mummy movies if I cooked for you. I'm done everyday by 5:30 or 6:00... what day is good for you?" she asked.

"That's the problem. When we start a shoot for the week, the days are always long, and unpredictable. Usually the earliest I get home is after 8:00 or 9:00, and then I'm exhausted. I wouldn't be very good company. " He sighed, shaking his head. He wanted to spend every free minute with her. But this was still too new, and trying to sneak a few hours in here and there would be frustrating and he was disappointed. "The first day I know I am completely free is not until next Saturday."

She didn't say anything. She was disappointed too. It would be a long week after walking out of here with this many endorphins running through her body. The thought of him sleeping nude kept creeping into her mind. She blushed and she hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Xatixa, what are you blushing about?" he asked, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

"Nothing!" She turned her face up to look at him. "Saturday it is then... I'm sure this week will be exhausting for me too." She turned towards the door.

"Wait..." he stopped her.

" 'ded... really."

"I know, I know... " he stepped away from her for a pen and paper. " I just thought I'd write down my cell phone number for you, in case... well, just ..." he smiled and handed it to her.

"Thank you..." she took it, and reached for the pen and paper he held in his hands. She wrote her new phone number at work and her home number on it and handed it back. "I don't have a cell phone... so if you need to get a hold of me, I should be at one of these numbers." She smiled.

"You might be the first person I have known, who doesn't have a cell phone." He teased her.

"Well, call me old fashioned." she chuckled. She turned again towards the door. She could feel the heat in his gaze and knew she better get out of there quick.

He opened the door for her, and as she turned to say goodbye, he swept his arm around her and pulled her to him for one last kiss goodnight. His tongue found hers as she welcomed him into her mouth. His arm across the back of her hips, she could feel the fact that he was still as aroused as she was and her stomach fluttered for a moment as she reconsidered leaving. But then he pulled away. He kissed her on the nose, and turned her around, pushing her forward. "If you don't go now, I can't be held responsible for my actions," he said. She took a step down the stairs and turned to touch his hand.

"Thank you 'ded... you were right... you are a wonderfully nice guy..." she smiled.

He laughed out loud and gave her his million-dollar smile. He watched her walk across the yards and waited until she opened her door and stepped inside, waving goodnight.