“You’re a cranky old man,” Mrs. Grisham told him, slapping his hand. “We’re setting a mood.”
“But I saw a jukebox in the corner. We could jitterbug.”
Mrs. Grisham raised dark eyebrows. “At your age?” She laughed. “You’d strain something.”
Mr. Peters leaned close to her. “Then we could play doctor and patient.”
Mrs. Grisham rolled her eyes, but Kayla noticed she didn’t move away or scold him again. Romance at Sunshine Village?
The crowd surrounded her. As she greeted people, Fallon and Elissa explained how they’d planned the party.
“We started about two months ago,” Elissa said. “I spoke to Cheryl at Patrick’s clinic, and she agreed to take care of collecting RSVPs from the guests.”
She continued talking about the logistics, but Kayla wasn’t listening. As she shook hands with Allison’s parents and nodded as they told her how well their daughter was doing, a part of her brain repeated a single phrase over and over. As if a needle had become stuck on an old record.
Where was Patrick?
She scanned the crowd, but he wasn’t around.
When she could escape, she grabbed Elissa and pulled her into a corner. “Is Patrick supposed to be here?”
Elissa nodded. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I don’t understand why he’s late. I confirmed a couple of things with him this morning, and everything was fine. Maybe there was a last-minute emergency at the clinic.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Kayla said, even though the knot in her stomach told her it was something else. There was a problem with Patrick. She could feel it.
She thought about phoning the clinic, then figured that if he was in the middle of surgery, she wouldn’t want to disturb him. So she tried to ignore her concern and get into the spirit of the party.
While waiters circulated with trays of appetizers and drinks, Elissa led Kayla to a chair in the center of the room. Presents had been piled high.
Kayla stared at the proof of her friends’ generosity and had to swallow. “You guys are going to make me cry.”
“You’ll spoil your makeup,” Jo warned.
“True.”
Fallon handed her a small rectangular box. “Open this first.”
Kayla tore off the paper and laughed when she saw the disposable camera inside. “Is this for the party?” she asked.
Fallon nodded. “You can use it tonight, then take it in to a one-hour place tomorrow. That way you’ll have photos to remember us while you’re seducing Prince Albert.”
Kayla raised the camera and took a picture of the entire group. Everyone got into the spirit, suggesting shots, posing for her. Cheryl had a camera of her own and instructed the triplets to line up together.
“Amazing,” Sarah said as the women stood next to each other. “They’re nearly exactly alike.”
“Yes, but I’m prettier,” Fallon teased.
“You are not,” Kayla and Elissa answered together.
When Cheryl had taken her photo, Kayla watched her sisters move around the room, talking to guests. They didn’t know anyone here, yet they were friendly and gracious, and so completely different, Kayla didn’t know how people could confuse them.
Fallon, always tailored, always correct, wore a royal blue sheath. The sleeveless dress ended precisely two inches above her knees. Elissa, the true romantic, dressed in pastel pink. A scoop-neck, capped-sleeved, gauzy two-piece outfit hugged her from shoulders to waist before flaring out in gentle pleats to fall nearly to her ankles. The dress swayed when she walked.
Kayla had picked out a simple silk T-shirt and a short straight skirt, both in purple. She hadn’t bothered with stockings and wore flats instead of heels. Usually she didn’t care about jewelry, but tonight she wore the bracelet Patrick had given her.
Her sisters continued to make sure their guests were comfortable. Kayla watched, realizing that it wasn’t just clothing that told them apart. Even their hairstyles identified their personalities. Fallon had a French braid, Elissa piled her curls on top of her head, while Kayla wore her hair loose.
To her, the differences were much more than physical. And those differences were what made them unique.
“There are other presents,” Sarah said, pointing to the pile on the floor. “Have a seat and get at it.”
***
An hour later, Kayla was surrounded by crumpled sheets of wrapping paper and a stack of wonderful gifts. She had everything she would need for her travels. From a voltage changer for her blow dryer and curling iron, to a phrase book, to a pillow for sleeping on the plane. There were maps of Paris and France, clever travel kits with sewing supplies and medical goodies, a current French newspaper, a travel-size cassette player with several new tapes, and a beautiful hand-crocheted shawl from Sarah.
The largest gift, a set of luggage, had been opened, although the giver hadn’t arrived. For the hundredth time, Kayla scanned the room and wondered what was keeping Patrick.
After dinner, Mr. Peters got his wish. The French music faded, and he picked the first tune from the jukebox. Instead of Glenn Miller, most of the songs were from the fifties and sixties. After pushing the tables aside, most of the guests pulled off their shoes and danced in the center of the room.
“You guys are too young to remember the sixties,” Cheryl said, demonstrating the mashed potato.
“So are you,” Kayla countered.
“Yeah, but I’m the youngest of six, and I watched my brothers and sisters very closely.”
They laughed and danced, arms swinging in the air, hips swaying, feet shifting. A whisper of warmth brushed the back of her neck, and Kayla spun around.
He wasn’t close enough to have touched her. From the way he glanced around the room, he hadn’t even spotted her yet. But he was here, now, and that was enough.
Kayla started walking toward him. She knew the exact moment he spotted her. His solemn face relaxed into a smile.
“Hi,” she said, when she was a few feet away.
“Hi, yourself.”
For a second, she wondered if he was going to reject her tonight. She hesitated, rather than offering him a hug. He eased her mind when he held open his arms.
As she stepped into his embrace, he held her tightly against him. She returned his touch, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her head against his shoulder. She could feel the steady pounding of his heart.
“Sorry I’m late,” he murmured. “Something came up at the clinic.”
“Everything okay?”
“Sure.”
There was something about his tone of voice. Something that made her want to question him. What was he holding back?
Before she could ask, the record ended and another dropped into place. The room filled with the scratchy sound of a needle on vinyl, and then the opening notes of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” flowed over them.
Without saying anything, they began to dance. Their bodies moved together in perfect communication. His heat and scent surrounded her, filling her with contentment. She’d always been at her best when she was with him.
As they circled the room, she glanced at the people around them. A few couples had joined them, including Allison’s parents and Mrs. Grisham and Mr. Peters. Melissa caught her gaze, then turned away. Kayla didn’t have it in her to feel triumph or pity. Tonight there was no room for petty emotion.
In the security of Patrick’s arms, she studied the individuals who brought joy to her world. Sarah, Fallon and Elissa. Elissa waved, then snapped a picture of Kayla and Patrick dancing. She was pleased she would have that moment to take with her.
She thought of all she would be leaving behind this time tomorrow. Her plane took off Sunday evening and arrived in Paris in the early afternoon on Monday.
She thought of the sites she would see, the people she would meet. After waiting nearly thirteen years, her dream had arrived.
But instead of feeling light with joy, questions weighed on her. Was s
he doing the right thing? Was she being selfish? Would she have a life to come back to, or would everyone have moved on and forgotten her?
She knew that by “everyone” she really meant Patrick.
The record ended, but he continued to hold her. Another slow song drifted through the room, and they swayed to the sound. Her eyes drifted closed. She tried to imagine herself in Paris, sipping coffee at a cafe, watching the world walk by.
But instead of the famous French capital, she saw a pair of ruby slippers and a young girl clicking her heels three times.
“There’s no place like home.”
She held Patrick tighter. Home. Was that where she belonged? Was she making a huge mistake?
They turned in a slow circle, and her gaze fell on the pile of presents everyone had bought her. Her tickets waited at her apartment, she had reservations at a hotel, appointments to meet with Sarah’s friend’s granddaughter and the people Patrick knew. Everything was in place.
There was no turning back.
***
Light from the full moon spilled into her bedroom. Kayla tossed back the sheets and sat up. A quick glance at the clock told her it was nearly one. She and her sisters had come home from the party two hours ago and gone right to bed, but she hadn’t been able to sleep.
She quietly walked to the window and stared up at the sky. The moon sat high, nearly directly overhead. Its brightness concealed most of the stars, except for those close to the horizon.
The apartment was silent. Elissa slept on a cot in the corner of Kayla’s bedroom. In the living room, Fallon rested on the sleeper sofa.
Kayla thought about returning to bed, but she was too restless. In less than twenty-four hours, she would be gone. Her life would change forever. How could anyone sleep?
She grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt she’d left on her dresser that afternoon, then slipped into the bathroom. Five minutes later, her face washed, her hair brushed, she made her way into the living room, then out the front door.
Once settled on the steps, she drew in a deep breath. The night air was cool. She hugged herself, knowing she would be freezing in about twenty minutes, but determined to enjoy the solitude until then.
Memories of the party made her smile. She had good friends, people who really cared about her. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve that much support, but she was grateful for it.
She thought about Patrick. Something had been bothering him. He’d left right after they served cake. She’d hoped for another dance, but before she could ask, he was gone.
Patrick. Her gaze settled on his house at the end of the driveway below.
She wished… She shook her head. What did she wish? That they could go back to the way things had been between them? Did she really want that? Or had she secretly been hoping for something more?
”Of course I care.”
Those words. They’d stunned her, left her breathless, anticipating something she couldn’t even name. He’d created a moment of magic, then made it disappear.
”We’re friends.”
Friends. While she loved the friends in her life, she hated the word. It confused her—he confused her.
A flicker of light caught her attention. She stared more intently and realized a light had been on when she first came out. Because the drapes were pulled, she hadn’t noticed. Until Patrick moved in front of it and momentarily blocked the glow.
He was awake.
She was halfway across the driveway before she realized what she was doing. At his front door, she raised her hand to knock, then paused. What was she going to say?
“I’ll think of something,” she muttered under her breath. “How humiliating can it be? After all, I’m leaving the country tomorrow.”
With that, she rapped on the door.
He opened the door and stared down at her in surprise. She returned the stare. He wore nothing but loose shorts that hung low on his hips. His hair stood up in spikes, as if he’d been asleep.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
“No. I tried to lie down, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me, either.” She motioned toward the stairs leading up to her apartment. “I was sitting outside when I noticed you had a light on. I thought you might like some company.”
Instead of answering, he pushed the door open.
“Want something to drink?” he asked when she’d settled on one edge of the sofa.
“No, thanks.”
There was a tumbler filled with ice and clear liquid on the coffee table. He sat in front of it and leaned back against the cushions.
There was less than two feet between them, yet she felt as if they were separated by the world. Tension knotted in her stomach, as it had at the party.
“Something’s wrong,” she said.
He glanced at her and smiled. “I’m gonna miss you, kid. Who else would know what I was thinking?”
“No one. So tell me what’s going on.”
He shook his head, leaned forward and grabbed his drink. “Just some odds and ends. Nothing for you to worry about the night before you leave.”
His voice sounded funny. Was he drunk? Kayla didn’t think she’d ever seen Patrick drink more than a couple of beers. She leaned toward him and took the glass. She sniffed, but couldn’t smell anything. When she took a sip, she tasted ice water. Obviously whatever was bothering him wasn’t that serious.
“What did you think?” he asked as he retrieved the glass. “That I was drowning my sorrows?”
“It crossed my mind.”
He set the glass on the table and angled toward her. “Only as a last resort.”
His hands lay loose in his lap. She had the strongest urge to reach forward and take one in hers. To touch him. Be near him. Is that why she’d come over?
To distract herself, she said, “Thanks for the luggage.”
“You already thanked me.”
“I know, but—” She shrugged. “I’d told you which ones I’d thought about buying, and you remembered. That makes the gift more special.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned his head against the sofa back. “You’re going to enjoy Paris. I hope you remember to come back.”
To you? she wanted to ask, but didn’t.
“I’ll be around,” she said.
There was only a single lamp on in the room, and that was in the corner by the front door. They sat in semi-darkness. As Patrick shifted, shadows concealed, then exposed, parts of his face and body. She could make out the clean line of his jaw, his shoulders, his left arm. The thick, defined muscles of his chest were visible, as was his stomach. Or maybe she couldn’t see them at all. Maybe she remembered them so well, she didn’t need light to know what they looked like.
The heat began so slowly, she didn’t notice it at first. It slipped down her legs and arms, then up through her torso. Her breasts swelled and ached. That magical place between her legs throbbed in time with her increasing heartbeat.
Did he feel it, too? The need? The tension?
Her gaze sought his. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes. Did he want her, or did he simply tolerate her presence?
Touch me!
The voice screamed loudly in her head, yet her lips didn’t move. The room was still. She waited, commanding him to move toward her, to take her in his arms as he had at the party. She was leaving tomorrow; she wanted tonight with him. She wanted the memory to carry with her for the rest of her life.
But he did nothing. He simply returned her gaze, waiting. For what? Permission? For her to leave?
When she couldn’t stand it, she slid forward on the sofa. She moved deliberately, so that there could be no doubt of her intentions. So that he could stop her at any moment. She didn’t want to think about being rejected, but if he turned her away, she would survive.
Her hands cupped his face. Stubble teased the sensitive pads of her fingers. She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his.
He accepted the caress, but didn�
��t return it. She closed her eyes and put her heart and soul into the kiss, letting her feelings pour over him. He stirred restlessly, yet neither moved away nor deepened the kiss.
She straightened. “What’s going on?” she asked, confusion and frustration adding a sharpness to her tone. “Do you want me to leave or do you want me to beg?”
His eyes darkened to the color of the night sky. He raised his hands to her shoulders, then dropped them back to his lap. “I want you not to have regrets.”
Was that all? She smiled. “I could never regret being with you, Patrick. I want this. I want you.”
Without warning, he pulled her to him, turned her so that she lay on her back, and then he stretched out half on top of her. His arousal pressed into her hip. His hands were everywhere, touching her arms, her thighs, her breasts.
“Thank God,” he said, his voice low and thick with passion. “Thank God.”
Chapter Fifteen
He kissed her with the intensity that left her breathless. His lips covered hers, his tongue plunged inside. She raised her arms to wrap them around his neck and draw him closer. She needed more; she needed to be one with him.
As he traced the sensitive places in her mouth, he drew her into a sitting position. From there, they rose to their feet. Still the kiss continued. He pressed against her. Bare legs brushed. Her hands lowered to his shoulders, then his back. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she ached to feel his skin against hers.
She reached down and fumbled with the hem of her T-shirt. He backed away a little to give her room. Finally, as she tugged up the fabric, they broke the kiss.
They were both breathing heavily. Passion dilated his eyes. “I want you,” he said hoarsely. “Now.”
As she tossed down her shirt, he pulled her toward the bedroom. She kicked off her sandals, stumbling slightly when a strap caught around her heel.
He bent down and freed her. On his way up, he nibbled on her thigh, then licked her belly. Her muscles contracted at the contact. She had to clutch his shoulders to keep from falling to her knees.
When he’d straightened, they continued toward the bedroom. Patrick unfastened her bra, then tugged at her shorts. She pulled on his, so by the time they’d turned on a lamp and tumbled onto the sheets, they were both naked.
The Girl of His Dreams Page 19
