Love is Lovelier

by Donna Simonetta

  “I can’t lie. I noticed how handsome you were when I first met you, before I knew anything about you. Your looks might have been what drew me to you, but they’re not what kept me around.”

  “No?” he asked with skepticism.

  “No. And I’m a little insulted you think I’m so shallow.” She ticked off his positive attributes on her fingers, “You’re smart, loyal, good to your brothers and sister…”

  He interrupted with a snort, “Sure I am.”

  “You are! Why else would you be sitting in this hotbox of an apartment, after working a long day, assembling furniture so your brother will be happy in his first place?”

  “If I really wanted to help Billy, I should’ve gone home with him to face the music.”

  “How did it go when he told your father about moving to Rivers Bend?”

  “About as well as you’d expect. The old man went ballistic, Mom tried to calm things down, and he turned on her. Dave tried to defend Billy and Mom, and Danny turned on him. Danny spilled the beans about Dave going to WVU next year, and the old man got so steamed Billy said he almost blew through the roof of the house like a busted hot water heater. I should have been there.”

  “Yeah, I can see how you’d hate to miss such a fun time.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. I should have been there to help them out.”

  “Help them? Mick if you had been there, you might as well have put on a match costume, lit your hair on fire, and jumped into a big old pool of gasoline.”

  The comment tugged a reluctant smile to Mick’s lips. “Vivid imagery there, Heath.”

  “But it’s not an exaggeration. I know you want to help, but you being there would have seriously inflamed an already heated situation.”

  He bobbed his head once. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m too much like the old man; if I’d been there we would’ve gone at it…”

  Heather’s jaw dropped, and she interrupted him, “Is that what you think? You’re just like your father?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not like Phil.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Heather, I am. The same dark moods and bad temper…”

  “Listen to me carefully here, Mick. You are nothing like your father. Sure, you can be a little brooding and serious, but you don’t have his short fuse, or bad temper. If you did, you would’ve tossed these evil furniture pieces out the window, and said the ratty old bed in here was good enough for Billy. Instead, you’ve been patiently working on it for two hours, and with a minimum of cursing. I’ve got two brothers, a brother-in-law, and a nephew, I know how much cussing and tossing of tools goes on during this kind of project. If your supposed bad temper was ever going to surface, this would have been the time, and it didn’t. Trust me, you’ve been a saint.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Saint Friggin’ Mick, that’s me.”

  She screwed up her mouth and stared at the noisy air conditioner, as if she expected it to wheeze out the right thing to say. “I don’t know how to convince you, Mick. I’m not sure I can. This is another thing you need to come to on your own, but I know, without a shadow of a doubt, you’re a good man. If you have a little of your father in you, you have a whole lot more of your mother’s kindness and patience.”

  As he took a breath to respond, she held up her hand. “Whatever you’re going to say, stop it. You’re not going to convince me otherwise, so don’t waste your time.”

  “You are one stubborn woman.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  Mick glowered at the air conditioner, as it turned off with an especially loud rattle. “Tomorrow after work, I’m going to drive down to Leesburg to get a new A/C unit and a bigger television for the living room. Do you want to come?”

  “Do you think it’s a good idea, us spending more time together, doing couple-y things?”

  He smiled slowly, and Heather shivered in response to his intense stare.

  He crawled through the furniture parts strewn on the floor, like a panther to a gazelle.

  “As a matter of fact, I think it’s a bad idea of epic proportions, but I can’t seem to stop myself where you’re concerned.”

  Jesus, what was he doing? He’d promised himself he’d stay away from her for her own good, but hearing her defense of him created a flicker of hope in his chest. Maybe she was right, maybe he wasn’t like the old man after all, and that thought flicked all his switches to ‘full steam ahead’! He had to have his mouth on her, his hands on her.

  He paused for a moment when he reached her, and looked deeply, searchingly, into her gray eyes. If he saw any hesitation or fear there, he’d force himself to pull back…somehow.

  His heart pounded, as all he saw in her eyes was a mirror reflection of his own desire.

  “Heather,” he managed to rasp out with longing, before he leaned in to kiss her.

  He meant to keep it gentle and caressing, but as soon as their lips touched it was like a rocket went off and flared between them. Mick tried to tell himself, before he abandoned rational thought altogether, it was just mutual lust, but he knew in his gut it was a whole more than lust on his part.

  He tried to pull her closer, but Heather was already there, and trying to climb him like a tree. He molded her soft curves to his hard body, which was growing harder by the second, and moved his lips to the soft skin just below her ear. Her head lolled back on her neck, and her breath came in soft, sexy pants ratcheting his desire up even higher.

  They raised up on their knees, by some unspoken accord to press themselves together as tightly as possible.

  “Ow!” Heather exclaimed.

  She pulled a drawer front out from under her knee and tossed it aside with a clatter.

  Mick felt his old knee injury complain about his current position, kneeling on pieces of wood.

  He looked around the room for a more comfortable spot, and his gaze landed on the new mattress still wrapped in plastic and propped against the wall.

  He jerked his head toward it. “What do you say we christen that? It’ll be a lot less painful.”

  “What? We can’t use your brother’s new mattress! He hasn’t even slept in it yet; it just wouldn’t be right.”

  “How about we re-locate to the sofa then, do you have any moral objections to it?”

  “No. It came from Jason’s place, so I’m sure it’s been christened plenty.” She shuddered gently. “But I really don’t want to think about my little brother just now.”

  “Me either.” Mick grinned, before he stood up, and then leaned down to gather her in his arms and pick her up off the floor. He lowered his mouth to her throat, where he nipped her lightly and then soothed the spot with his tongue. “What can I possibly do to distract you?”

  Heather moaned softly. “That was a good start.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the living room, and sank onto the sofa with her in his lap. She tugged his T-shirt up and he released her from his arms long enough for her to lift it over his head. Her eyes devoured his bare chest, and he was glad he hadn’t let his body go to hell when he’d stopped playing football.

  His head fell back against the sofa as her fingers explored his torso, and when one soft hand dropped a little lower, he was afraid he was going to go off like a teenager. Only Heather had ever held this kind of power over him. He wasn’t a man who gave away control easily, but he happily ceded it to Heather as she stroked him through his jeans. However, when her other hand went to work on his fly, he stilled it with a firm grasp.

  “My turn,” he said with a cocky grin as he flipped their position and secured Heather beneath him on the sofa.

  She squirmed under him, and he about lost his mind.

  “But I wasn’t done yet,” she complained.

  “Oh, we’re not done yet, babe,” Mick promised as he held both her hands above his head with one of his own. His other hand was busy molding one of her breasts, which this position thrust up to him so en
ticingly. “We’re not even close to done, but we are wearing way too many clothes.”

  “Mmm…good point,” Heather murmured, as Mick set about putting that error to rights.

  “I get lucky now and then.”

  Like right freaking now. Mick looked at Heather lying on the sofa, naked, with a half-smile playing at the corner of her luscious lips. He reached down to get his pants off the floor, pulled out a condom from the pocket.

  Heather snatched it from his hand, with a cheeky grin. The wrapper crinkled as she opened it. “Allow me.”

  When she slid it onto him, Mick feared he would lose it; her hands on him felt so good. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, and stroked into her as he did. They moaned against each other’s lips. Mick maintained eye contact with Heather as he slowly moved inside her. Sex had never felt this way to him before. Not even the other night at Heather’s apartment. Sure, it had been off-the-charts amazing, but there was a playfulness then he wasn’t feeling now.

  Heather arched her back slightly, and as he slid even farther inside her it felt like the contact with her body touched his soul. Heather’s release rippled around him, and he felt it down to his toes. He came with her name on his lips.

  ****

  At first Mick’s weight pressing her into the sofa was a welcome pressure, but as Heather felt his harsh breathing start to slow as his big body relaxed, her mind began to race and his weight started to feel like an anchor dragging her down.

  What had just happened here was more than sex, way more. It started out teasing, but by the time they got to the big finish, things had taken an intense turn, and it had felt like a vow.

  Heather struggled to catch her breath, as Mick stroked her arms lovingly.

  Lovingly? What the hell did love have to do with it? It couldn’t have anything to do with this situation, that was for damn sure!

  This so shouldn’t have happened again. She shouldn’t have allowed it to happen. She snorted to herself at the thought. Allowed it to happen? Hell, she practically willed it to happen.

  She should have left after the furniture delivery came, but no, she had to stay to help Mick assemble it, and look where that epically bad decision had gotten her.

  Okay. It had gotten her underneath Mick following the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life. At one point she was afraid she was going to blackout from pleasure, but that wasn’t the point, she reminded herself. This was all too much…too much feeling, too much fear about the future, and too damn much pressure.

  She looked at her contribution to the living room furnishings, a black and white cat clock on the opposite wall. As its eyes shifted and its tail swished away the seconds, her panic grew. She needed to get out of here to regroup.

  “Look at the time,” she said breathlessly.

  Her voice seemed to rouse Mick out of his blissful stupor, and he shifted his weight off of her. “I was crushing you; I’m sorry.”

  If only it were the source of her discomfort, then her problems would be so much simpler and easier to solve. But the fact she still couldn’t catch her breath, even without his body pressing into her, told another story.

  “It’s okay. Really it is. But, look at the time. I’ve got to go…somewhere…”

  He furrowed his brow, and said with quizzical amusement, “Thanks for being so specific.”

  She wriggled out from under him, and reached for her clothes. She dressed in record time, while Mick reclined deliciously, mouth-wateringly nude on the plaid sofa, like he was some great pasha in his harem. He seemed loose, easy, happy, everything Heather was not feeling following their lovemaking. Sex, she corrected herself angrily, it was just sex. Not lovemaking.

  “This rush to get out of here, was it something I said?”

  “Huh? No.” Heather fastened her jeans and grabbed her purse off the coffee table. “It’s just the time. And I’ve got to be…” Her explanation trailed off without any actual, you know, explanation. She knew she was being lame, but she still couldn’t catch her breath, and the pressure on her chest was increasing to the point where she felt like she was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. Her mind refused to cooperate, and think of something reasonable to say.

  “Somewhere?” he suggested with a smile.

  She didn’t see what he could possibly be so amused about here, but she’d take the lifeline. “Right. Somewhere. So, I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”

  She ran off so fast she created more of a breeze than the rattly old air conditioner had managed to do all evening.

  ****

  Mick shook his head as the door slammed, and wondered where Heather had gotten all her nervous energy. He felt like an overcooked noodle, an extremely satisfied overcooked noodle.

  He smiled as he looked at the old-fashioned cat clock he knew had to have come from Heather. Its cool mid-century, kitschy vibe was just her style.

  He shook his head. Better not think about Heather’s touch right now, or he’d never get moving again, and he needed to get moving. Somehow, their incredible bout of lovemaking had scared his furniture assembly assistant away, and now he was on his own to finish it.

  He sat up and reached for his pants. As he pulled them on, he wondered what could have sent Heather running into the night like he was the big, bad wolf. From his point of view it had been the best freaking sex of his life, and he was hoping for another taste.

  He refused to even consider it hadn’t been great for her too; he knew it had, her reactions couldn’t have been faked. Heather had been right there with him. So what scared her?

  He stood and pulled on his T-shirt.

  Heather might have the right idea; maybe he should be frightened of the intensity of what just happened between them too.

  He rubbed his jawline as he walked into the bedroom to resume his furniture assembly. Maybe the blood was having a hard time working its way back up to his brain, but he couldn’t figure it out right now.

  He’d give Heather the space she seemed to need tonight, and he’d see her at work tomorrow.

  Chapter 23

  By the time Heather got down Main Street to the Nosh Pit the feeling she was in imminent danger of hyperventilating passed, but anxiety still made her heart race and her ears buzz.

  “Hiya, Heather! Are you just getting home from work? It’s a little late, do I need to get Mom to talk to Jeff about being a slave driver?”

  She jumped and clutched her heart at the sound of her sister Deidre’s voice calling to her from the alley.

  “Jeez! Way to give a girl a heart attack, Dee, pop out of an alley at night!”

  “Sorry.” Deidre grinned without even a hint of apology in her voice or expression. “Where have you been?”

  “I went over to the Billy’s apartment after work to do some stuff. No need to sic Mom on Jeff. What are you doing working so late?”

  “I had some paperwork to do.” Deidre peered at her in the orange light of the lamppost. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Oh my God! Have you seen a ghost? Is Miller’s garage haunted? Maybe we could get one of those TV paranormal investigation teams here! Although that little apartment would be small potatoes for them; they probably wouldn’t come down here just to investigate it. The main building at the Retreat is over a hundred years old, right? Have you ever seen anything ghostly there?”

  Irritation and amusement at her sister’s fascination with paranormal television programs helped to tamp down her anxiety about what had transpired with Mick. “Cool your jets, Hermione, I’ve never seen anything supernatural at either place. You’re going to have to find some other way to lure ghost hunters here. You know with all the Civil War activity in this area, Rivers Bend should be crawling with ghosts. Maybe you can get the show that investigated an entire town for supernatural activity to come here.”

  Deidre bounced in place. “I was just saying the same thing to Hank the other night! The Bend would be a perfect location for them to investigate…and I just realized you’re busting my
chops. Not nice, little sister, not nice at all.”

  Heather smiled weakly. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  “You look a little better now, but you’re still awfully pale. Did you eat dinner?”

  “No, I totally forgot.”

  “C’mon into the Nosh Pit, I can give you soup and a sandwich.”

  Heather followed her sister into the alley to the back door, which led into the café’s kitchen.

  The metal stool grated against the tile floor, as Deidre pulled it over to the island in the center of the small restaurant kitchen on her way to the industrial refrigerator. “Have a seat while I pull something together for you.”

  “Thanks, Dee, you’re such a mom at heart.”

  “It’s what I do; I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself when the twins go to college next year. Brace yourself for meddling, I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands.”

  As Deidre popped some soup into the microwave to warm up, and put sandwich fixings on the counter, Heather said, “If it means you fix dinner for me every night, I could learn to love your empty-nest syndrome.”

  Deidre smiled and rolled her eyes as the microwave beeped. She pulled out the steaming container and dumped its fragrant contents into a bowl, which she placed in front of Heather. “Chicken noodle, eat. I’m worried your blood sugar is low; you’re still not looking so great. Kind of pale and pasty.”

  Heather blew on a spoonful of soup before eating. As she swallowed the comforting, delicious broth, she closed her eyes and groaned with pleasure. “Oh gosh, thanks for the compliment. If this soup wasn’t so darned good, I might take offense.”

  Deidre cut the turkey sandwich in half and shoved the plate across the island to Heather. She leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms against her chest. “If it wasn’t a ghost that spooked you, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she lied around a mouthful of sandwich.

  “Don’t try to fool your older sister, I know you too well for it to work. Spill.”

  She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze to the bowl of soup, as if the little cubes of carrots were the most fascinating sight in the world. Maybe the alphabet noodles would miraculously spell out the answers to all of her problems. She swirled the soup with her spoon. “I wasn’t exactly alone at the apartment over the garage just now.”