Wolfe Watching by Joan Hohl

innocent sexual interest.
    Innocent?
    The question again stabbed into Eric’s mind.
    Yes, dammit! Innocent, he stabbed back.
    There was something...some quality, an aura almost virginal about her. Which, on reflection, considering the fact that she had been married, should have been laughable.
    So why wasn’t he laughing?
    The tension simmering between then crackled, seeming so palpable, Eric felt he could reach out and coil it around his hands, examine it with his eyes.
    He smiled at the idea.
    Tina returned his smile with an eager hesitancy that, while endearing, held the power to activate his hormones into a frenzy.
    “Hi.” Eric was amazed at his ability to articulate the simple one-word greeting, considering his mental state and sudden shortness of breath.
    “Hi.” Tina sounded as breathless as he felt.
    “Kitchen duty finished?” Eric rejoiced at his accomplishment of producing three whole words in an entire and complete sentence.
    “Yes.”
    There was a tantalizing quality to Tina’s voice that sent shards of excitement piercing through Eric’s mind and to the depths of his taut body.
    “Would you like to do something?” Her eyes were clear and guileless.
    “What did you have in mind?” Eric’s smile was slow and seductive.
    “A game?”
    “Like what?”
    “Monopoly?” she suggested.
    Eric contained the laughter that tickled the back of his throat. “Uh...no.”
    “Parcheesi?”
    Afraid the building laughter would escape if he opened his mouth, Eric responded with a quick and decisive negative shake of his head.
    Tina’s eyes sparkled with a suspicion-arousing gleam of inner amusement. “Boggle?”
    Eric lost it. “Boggle?” he choked out before giving way to the eruption of uninhibited laughter.
    Tina managed to maintain an indignant expression for all of fifteen seconds, and then her own throaty laughter pealed forth to mingle with his.
    “Okay,” she said when their mutual bout of hilarity subsided to an exchange of grins. “What, then?”
    Squashing the urge to voice the desire that immediately sprang to mind, Eric swept the room with a quick glance, noting with a surge of satisfaction the stereo components on a table in one corner.
    “How about some music?”
    “Music?” Tina revealed her incomprehension with a blank frown. “Yes, of course, but—”
    “If we shove the sofa back a little,” he interrupted her to explain, “we could clear enough space to dance.”
    “Dance?” she echoed. “Here? Now?”
    “Sure. Why not?” Eric said, prudently refraining from telling her the type of horizonal dancing he’d prefer to engage in with her, while consoling himself with the hope of at least holding her in his arms if she agreed to the vertical form of erotic exercise. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you since Friday night at the tavern.”
    “But you never said a word about dancing,” Tina said, frowning. “Did you?”
    “No.” Eric grimaced. “Hell, you could barely make your way through that mob, let alone dance.” He indicated the floor with a flick of his hand. “In comparison to that floor in the tavern, this is a veritable ballroom.” He gave her his most appealing smile. “What do you say?”
    Tina hesitated, but only for a moment, and then she shrugged. “Well, all right. What kind of music would you like?” she asked, rising to walk to the stereo system.
    The dirty-dancing kind, Eric answered to himself. “What have you got there?” he countered aloud, easing the footrest back into position against the chair, then getting up to attend to the business of moving the sofa.
    “Well, I lean toward the classics,” she confessed in warning, almost apologetically.
    “Do you have any Rod Stewart?” he asked, “Tonight’s the Night” in particular springing to mind.
    “No.”
    “Phil Collins?” Eric suggested, holding out hope for “One More Night”...or one night, actually.
    Looking woeful, Tina shook her head.
    “Well, we can hardly dance to