Excerpt

Jackson had trouble assimilating the information. Genevieve Terrence, the goddess he had worshiped from afar since the day he hired on at Rainbow, was coming on to him. This was the kind of scene he'd fantasized for months, yet like an idiot, he was hesitating. Jack the Confident had left the building, and only Jackson the Insecure remained to face the challenge. She stopped rubbing his back.
"I . . . I thought you were attracted to me." He turned toward her then, not wanting her to doubt herself for a minute.
"I am." Oh, wow, her nipples were making pucker marks in the material of her dress. She wasn't kidding about this. He forced his gaze up to her face. Sure enough, she looked upset.
"I am attracted to you," he said again. Major understatement. His equipment was programmed and ready to roll.
"So?" Two little creases formed in her smooth forehead. "What's the matter?" He could either tell her the truth or have her feel rejected. He settled for the truth.
"What if I'm not as good at this as you are?" The small wrinkles smoothed out of her forehead and she smiled gently at him, almost as if he was some little kid she was humoring.
"I wouldn't expect you to be."
"You wouldn't?" He wasn't sure he liked her assumption that he'd be lousy at sex. "I mean, I might be good at this." She stroked his bristly cheek with the tips of her fingers.
"Probably not, Jack. Be realistic. People improve with practice, and I can't believe you've had very much practice." Her fingertips drove him wild. He wanted to suck on her fingers, her toes, anything that presented itself to him.
"So how much practice have you had?" he asked a trifle belligerently. She seemed taken aback.
"Well, not that much, but more than you, that's for darned sure." He thought again about the blow job discussion. He was truly an imbecile not to let her have her way with him. Who cared if he showed himself up as less than studly? At least he didn't have murder in his heart like a former boyfriend he could mention.
"Since I figure you could use the practice," she said, "you can practice on me." He blinked.
"Practice on you?" He had an image of a CPR class where everybody perfected their mouth-to-mouth resuscitation procedure on mannequins. "What does that mean? You're gonna just lie there?"
"Of course not. But I can give you pointers, Jack. That way, when you get a serious girlfriend, you'll have a better idea what to do." He jerked away from her and almost landed in the fire pit.
"The hell with that! I thought you were looking forward to having some fun, not engaging in tutorial sex!"
"We would have fun!"
"Did you plan to draw a few diagrams in the sand first? Or maybe you could write a few instructions on yourself in lipstick. You know, with little arrows pointing to the spot in question."
"Now, Jack, you're getting yourself all riled up over nothing."
"Easy for you to say. You're the proclaimed expert and I'm the proclaimed sexual dunce. Look, I may not be the best lover in the world, but don't feel you have to sacrifice yourself so that I can brush up on my technique!"
"I only thought--"
"That you could teach Jack a thing or two? Well, maybe you can, Gen. Then again I might surprise you. Believe it or not, in my own bumbling, inept way I have actually succeeded in giving a woman an orgasm. Several times. I suppose she could have been faking, but from my limited experience, I don't think so."
She sank back on her heels and gazed at him, her expression filled with dismay.
"I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered. "I didn't mean to insult you." And just like that, his anger disappeared. It wasn't her fault that she didn't see him as a possible boyfriend herself. He'd overreacted because that's how he wanted her to see him, but the fact was, she didn't.
"It's okay."
"I'm sure you're a wonderful lover."
"I wouldn't go that far." She sighed and gave him a tiny smile.
"No, you wouldn't, because you're a naturally modest person. And that means if you tell me you're a good lover, you're probably a great lover and I have no business trying to teach you a blessed thing."
"I wouldn't say that, either." He was beginning to regret that he'd lost his temper. She looked very appealing sitting back on her heels, her cheeks flushed and her eyes trying to bring him into focus across the short distance separating them. She'd spread her beach towel out across one wall, probably for them to use as a bed. Her suitcase sat nearby, no doubt to keep the condoms handy for the activity she'd planned. His penis twitched in frustration. If he'd played along, he might have learned a thing or two, relieved some of that frustration and had a hell of a lot of fun in the process.
"Jack, I can tell you're just trying to be nice, when the truth is, I've taken a belly flop in the hog pen and ruined the chance of us having sex." She glanced at him. "Want to learn to whittle?"
Nobody was an idiot all of the time, not even him. "No."
"No? I thought you said you'd like to learn?"
"I would." He cleared his throat and gathered his courage.
"But I'd rather have sex."