Law of Attraction

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Angie closed her eyes to immerse herself in so many sensations. Tenderness and respect mingled with an intense hunger that flared between them as their breathing synced and they kissed, standing thigh to thigh.

  “Pants pocket,” he murmured as he reached toward the floor. Then he grinned. “While I’m damn glad Kyle didn’t use anything—because here you are, feisty and fine, with me—I’d rather not complicate another kid’s life. All right?”

  Angie laughed, relieved. “More than all right. You’ve gotten us past a tricky issue I wasn’t sure how to handle, after so many years with—”

  “You and I are finally gonna handle everything we want to,” he teased. “Big Jim and I might get impatient, but I promise you we’re gentlemen at heart. Wanna?”

  She snatched the condom from his fingers to sheath him. “Gonna take off these boxers, big boy?”

  “Yes, you may,” he rasped.

  How long had it been since she’d stood bare breasted before an admiring man? Angie ran her hands over his firm backside, gaining new appreciation for his compact, muscular body as she helped him out of his silk skivvies. Ross coaxed her up to meet her lips with a ravenous kiss. His hand slipped down the front of her panties and he tested her wetness, coaxed her open and fondled her slowly, thoroughly, until she couldn’t stand still. “Ross, please.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” he breathed. “Ladies first. Hope you don’t mind if I send you beyond oblivion before we go for the main event. Show me exactly what that takes, will ya?”

  Angie gasped as his deft fingers inflamed spots no other man had taken the time to find. He captured her with another insistent kiss, trapping her moan, refusing to release her mouth. Not that she wanted this brazen play to end.

  It hit her like a lightning strike when he filled her with his thumb. Her cry echoed in the empty room. They landed on the fresh mattress, writhing to maintain contact between every possible body part, kissing wildly as he yanked her panties down her thighs, driving her higher yet deeper into desperate need for release.

  Ross balanced with his knees between hers, rampant and ready. “Pick your position, woman. Jim wants his turn.”

  She felt wicked. Deliciously pretty. And oh, so powerful. “Something tells me you like to come from behind,” she said playfully, “but first I want to watch you take me, inch by lovely inch—”

  He lifted her hips to enter her in the missionary position, his moan in harmony with hers. Ross held her hard against himself, breathing raggedly. His raven hair was mussed and his face flushed with desire. So masterfully in control he was, yet without having to control her.

  “Angie,” he whispered.

  Her heart fluttered into her throat at the way he’d prayed her name as though he was so lost in her he had no need to say another word. He gazed all the way into her, making her believe he’d seen her this way many times before, in many lifetimes.

  “It’s so perfect,” she murmured. She wanted to move but didn’t want to rush this first coming together…this union that felt almost mystical.

  He nodded, as awestruck as she.

  Ross eased out of her then. They shifted, hands in constant motion on each other’s bodies, murmuring between fervent kisses, until she knelt and leaned forward and he mounted her from behind. Spellbound, they rocked and thrust their way to an ecstasy Angie had never imagined.

  Was it possible to implode and then quickly recover enough to want the same thing a different way? He gave it to her a second time, lying behind her to curve around her body like a spoon. Angie tightened her inner muscles around him, instinctively turning onto her stomach as he rolled on top, still deeply imbedded in her. So slowly, like slick silk inside and warm velvet where he massaged her body with his. Ross’s breath teased her ear as he whispered, “Come with me…sweet, sweet Angie…we’re on the edge of a whole new universe, just a thrust away from—”

  She cried out and gave in to the waves of a shimmering climax. How had she found this man, this exquisite lover, who knew her deepest desires? How did he satisfy them without her having to ask? Unless…Had they been lovers in another life? He’d suggested as much, hadn’t he?

  “Okay, truce!” he murmured as he slid off her. He pulled her against his body as she draped a leg over his. “You’re wearin’ me out, woman. But don’t think I can’t go again if you let me regroup for a bit.”

  Angie nuzzled the fine, dark hair on his chest. Never had she felt so warm and satisfied, or so rubbery in her joints. “I can’t believe we’ve been making love all evening. It got dark and we didn’t even notice.”

  “This is only the beginning, Ange. It gets better.”

  She closed her eyes, praying he was right. She so badly wanted to believe this man’s love could transform her and heal the emotional scars from her relationship with Gregg, just as she wanted to be the woman who showed him what a forever love felt like. In her mind she caught an image of Rita McQueen dissipating like morning mist hit by the sun. She smiled and snuggled closer to Ross.

  “We’re this good together because our souls remember we’ve been lovers before,” he affirmed. “It felt so natural, so effortless, to please you, Angie…and to receive the ecstasy you gave me.”

  Angie sighed languidly. “Nobody’s ever said the word ecstasy and my name in the same breath. Thank you, Ross. I—”

  “I’m a man who loves women. Can’t deny that,” he said with a chuckle. “But it’s never felt this way for me, sweetheart. Honest to God, you shook everything loose and put it all back together. I love you so much, Angie.”

  Tears welled up as he kissed her. It was so perfect, the right words, the right moves. The exquisite ending to a day fraught with emotional trauma. Yet how could she be sure that just as she’d finally said good-bye to Gregg today, Ross could keep Rita McQueen from intruding on their happiness?

  She drifted in a cozy, delicious state of dozing while remaining aware of the way this man had transformed her entire world. What if she concentrated on sending out love and light, even to Rita—especially to Rita? Would the Law of Attraction transform Ms. McQueen’s attitude the way it had so thoroughly changed Angie’s own life?

  She closed her eyes. Pictured the sophisticated redhead in that sleek, sequined gown. Rita, I send you love and light, peace in these times of upheaval, healing for your soul and your emotions, joy in the days to come.

  It wasn’t so hard. Actually, it eased some of her lingering doubts, so for good measure, she hit the highlights again. Rita, I send you love, light, peace, healing…and most of all I send you joy.

  Angie smiled. Ross had fallen asleep in her arms.

  Twenty-Six

  “COULDA sworn I stashed those new faucet handles in the bathroom vanity.” Kyle glanced up at Angie, his expression taut. “Either I’m losin’ it, or we’ve had an uninvited guest messin’ things around.”

  Angie laid her brush on the tray and rolled her shoulders. The glass-front kitchen cabinets were a pain to paint but it was something she could do while her father worked on the real repairs. “Anything missing? Or just not where you thought you put it?”

  He shrugged. “Couple gallons of paint switched. Wrong colors, wrong rooms. Screwdrivers put back in the wrong slots. But so far, I think all the stuff’s accounted for. By the way…” He reached into his shirt pocket. “Found this underneath the Murphy bed this mornin’. I know you and Costello’ve been givin’ that thing a workout these past couple weeks, but usually ya cover your tracks a little better.”

  Angie’s cheeks prickled. Ross made a point of folding the vintage bed back into its alcove in the wall every time. The gold hoop between Kyle’s callused fingers was a showy thing, the sort of earring she’d always wanted to wear, except—

  “I, uh, don’t have pierced ears,” she mumbled. Red flags fluttered in her mind. “Are you saying the bed was down when you got here?”

  “Yup. ’Bout a quarter of seven.”

  She and Ross hadn’t been here for the past two days, and he su
rely hadn’t come with anyone else. Had he? The more she considered the possibilities, the faster her stomach churned—but why let that happen? Why let fear intrude on what she believed about the man she loved? “During my tarot sessions, Lenore and I have talked a lot about how to deal with life’s little upsets.”

  “Her name would be Rita, am I right?”

  Angie laughed. Her father was so cute when he shot smoke out his nose. “Lenore insists we’re here to teach each other about being human, and that true illumination comes when we decide to shine our light on the ones who upset us most. Though it’s not our job to fix people. We have to let them create their own consequences.”

  “Not a bad theory. Far as it goes.” Kyle snickered. “I used to fix bothersome SOBs with a close-up view of my fist. Now I know there’s guys not worth crunchin’ your knuckles over.”

  “That’s progress!” Angie said with a grin. “Especially if you’re used to rehashing your past with them,” she admitted with a grin. “I’m still working on that part.”

  “Yeah, I know a little somethin’ about rehashin’…” Kyle’s smile was pensive, but he quickly returned to the situation at hand. “Seein’ as how I’ll rehab four houses on this block, I’m thinkin’ a security system’ll be a deterrent to…vandals. Better than replacin’ tools or thinkin’ I’m a nutcase,” he added with a nod. “But then, you have your own theory on that.”

  “Hah! You’re the sanest, most centered man I know,” she blurted. Her face prickled again. She’d never gushed at Bill Cavanaugh, even though he’d been the best dad a girl could have. “And thanks for not razzing me about Ross and me being lovers.” Now there was a subject she’d never discussed with Mom or Daddy!

  Kyle gently tucked her hair behind her ear. His smile made her flutter inside. “Pretty gal like you’s not cut out to be a nun. And Costello’s so damn happy of late, I can hardly stand him! But that’s a good thing. It’s all good between you and him.”

  Angie stood speechless on the ladder. Her father had just reconfirmed her faith in Ross. Yet there was a shadow to his smile. Did he wish he could see Patty McCormick again? Did he regret his solitary life? Was it solitary, or was he involved with someone and just didn’t talk about her?

  “So, you’ve never been married, then? Not trying to be nosy—”

  “Ask me anything ya want.” He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Guess I soured on that romance thing after your mother got whisked outta my life. Lived with a couple gals over the years, but I always seem to do somethin’ to get my sorry ass kicked out.” He gazed around the kitchen, which glimmered in the morning sun with its glossy white woodwork and apple green walls. “Maybe if I had a sweet little nest like this insteada livin’ like trailer trash—”

  “You are not trailer trash.”

  “—I wouldn’t keep such close company with Uncle Jack Daniel. But hey, I’ve got steady work. And every now and again I get lucky.” He raised his eyebrows rakishly and then tweaked Angie’s nose. “Lookin’ at you, kid, I feel like I won the lottery. And these houses Ross is settin’ me up to refurbish? Gravy. So I’m good to go. No complaints. You ready to meet Tyler this weekend?”

  Just that quickly he’d pointed the spotlight at her again. Angie dipped her brush in white paint and ran it down the edge of the cabinet. “I tell myself he’s a college kid and I’m old enough to be his mother, so he’ll write me off,” she replied with a tight smile. “But it’ll go deeper than that, of course. I try to stay open to any possibility. Sometimes adult children kick up more trouble than little kids when their parents change relationships.”

  Her father chuckled. “Tyler’s a solid sort. Helluva musician, too—six or seven instruments, I think. Comes across like a classical-piano type, but inside he’s a wild child. Spittin’ image of his dad twenty years ago, and just as ornery.”

  “I like him already!” She shifted to reach the next cabinet door. “Anything else I should know about him? Does he tend to side with Ross or Rita?”

  One side of Kyle’s mouth quirked up. “Tyler’s been walkin’ that tightrope all his life. Might be you that makes him fall and land in one camp or the other.”

  “THIS place is so cute, chica! So you.”

  As Elena flitted from room to room, Angie’s heart swelled. The house was all but finished, and furniture she’d found at antique shops and flea markets made it feel like hers. It was the first place she’d called home since she’d lived with her parents. She and Gregg had always rented while hunting for just the right house, but no such place ever existed.

  As Lenore hung green gingham curtains in the breakfast nook, Angie felt an overwhelming excitement. A peace she couldn’t explain. “I can’t thank you enough for sewing these curtains, and—”

  “You’ve got a big birthday coming up. You have no idea how happy I am to help you celebrate it, sweetheart!” Lenore stepped back to admire her handiwork. “It’s like this little place has been waiting for you to return, isn’t it? And your father’s a new man. Walks prouder, talks happier—and it’s all about you, Angela. He’s loved every minute you two have worked together these past few weeks.”

  “This couldn’t have happened without him.”

  “In more ways than one, sí?” Elena’s eyes snapped as she gave Angie a quick hug. “So is Ross giving you a ring for your birthday? I can’t worm a single hint out of him.”

  Angie’s heart revved at the thought, but she shrugged. “Not exactly a question you ask a man, is it? Women have fantasies about that stuff before it’s on most men’s radar screens.”

  “Ross Costello isn’t most men.” The lithe Latina flashed her a knowing smile and then gazed out the bay window. “Isn’t that Tyler’s pickup pulling into his driveway?”

  They crowded together to gawk across the rooftops toward Ross’s house. Lenore put her arms around them both, giggling at this spy mission. “Your best bet with Tyler is to be who you are, Angie.”

  And who was that? The past few weeks had seen so many changes, she wondered whose face beamed back at her in the mirror lately.

  As a slender male figure unfolded from the purple truck, she focused intently on him, and next upon the more compact man who trotted from the house to greet him. Father and son shared a sideways hug then disappeared into Ross’s house, chattering all the way.

  What if I knock him off balance, like Kyle said? she wondered. What if Tyler doesn’t like me? Doesn’t want his dad seeing another woman?

  Lenore’s hug tightened. “Tyler Costello—T.C., we call him—is the most resilient, laid-back kid you’ll ever meet. A fabulous musician, and a poster boy for reincarnation,” she said gently. “He’s an old soul in a young body. A ‘geek,’ a sensitive young man you can’t help but love. Chances are good you’ve met him in previous lives, and he—like you—has come here to carry out a specific mission.”

  “Yeah, well, if he plays six or seven instruments, his bags were packed, right? Some of us still wonder what we’re doing here.” Angie checked her watch. “Ross wanted them to have some guy time before he called to say—”

  Her cell phone rang. As Ross’s number flashed, Elena and Lenore laughed at Angie’s amazed expression. She stepped away from them, her heart pounding. “Ross! Hello,” she murmured.

  “The pleasure of your company is requested whenever you can show up, angel. Ty wants to run the dogs, and we’d love it if you could join us.” He sounded relaxed and happy. As if he wanted her to come and make their time even more fun. “See ya soon,” she replied. “I’ve been waiting.” “I like the sound of that. Tell Lenore and Elena hello for me.”

  Ross saw Angie’s strawberry blonde hair blowing in the breeze and his pulse quickened. She was still a couple blocks away, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her lime green hoodie, looking nervous. God, how he loved her. Her heart, her soul…her willingness to embrace yet another challenge after he’d put her through so much with Rita. Here on the beach, he hoped to allay her fears and give his boy a chance
to know Angela Cavanaugh for the beautiful soul she was. Distinctly different from anyone they’d known before.

  The dogs raced past him in hot pursuit of the Frisbee T.C. had tossed. Tyler had passed him up by a couple of inches this year. His son had the unerring confidence of a twenty-year-old, was such a man on the outside yet remained naive about so many things. Didn’t much go after the girls, even though they tweeted and sent texts to him relentlessly. T.C. didn’t do all-nighters or drugs, that he knew of, and for that Ross was extremely grateful.

  His heart swelled as Tyler tussled with the dogs. His son had handled the news about Angie with a cryptic grin and bring-her-on bravado, yet things could still get edgy: this was the first time he’d been serious about another woman.

  Angie’s brave smile and the unwitting sway of her hips convinced Ross to believe it would all work out. “Hey, sugar,” he crooned, holding out his hands.

  She clasped them, clearly delighted, if nervous.

  “Here’s Tyler, the prodigy we’ve told you about,” he said lightly, smiling at his boy. “And T.C., this is Angie Cavanaugh. She’s adjusted to some incredible discoveries since she came here last month, and—”

  “If she’s discovered you, she’s already in deep trouble.” Tyler grinned, revealing a mouthful of violet braces. “Hey. Good to meet you.”

  “HI, Tyler.” When Ross’s son offered his hand, Angie grabbed it between both of hers, grinning up at him. What a hunk in progress he was, even though he still had that unfinished look about him: a goatee not as thick as his dad’s, and curly black hair he hadn’t yet found his own style for. And purple braces! He drove a small purple truck. She had to love a college kid who defied the belief that purple was for grade-school girls.