by Joan Hohl
Her most recent relationship was with Rand, her new, exciting lover. But the joy she might feel at this involvement was coupled with her anxiety over her ability to do justice to her part in this latest movie. The location of the filming and the fact that Rand had a major role in the movie had been her reasons for accepting the small but challenging part.
Her relationship with Rand, Krissy knew, wouldn’t last…there was too much of an age difference. But on reflection, maybe that was for the best, because she was growing seriously fond of him. Krissy shuddered at even thinking any descriptive word stronger than fond in regards to Rand, or any man, for that matter. She had been hurt too many times before to even think about it. And now, after taking on this part, she was scared silly that she’d screw up in the movie.
There was also another small item looming large in the back of Krissy’s mind, where she had fearfully shoved it. While showering, she had recently felt a lump in her left breast, tiny, but there. She felt slight twinges of pain when Rand caressed her breast a certain way.
Had it been there before, unnoticed? Krissy didn’t know, didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about it filled her mind with abject terror.
CHAPTER 5
Friday afternoon, having managed to change his ticket and get onto the earliest flight out of LAX, and with the good fortune of a strong tailwind, Jonathan arrived in Philadelphia a few hours ahead of schedule.
He was anxious and determined to finally cement the rift between him and Julia over his stupid flirtation—and that’s all it had been—with his nurse practitioner. Jon was not only disappointed but a bit disgruntled to find their hotel room empty, his wife off shopping.
With time to kill heavy on his hands, Jon showered, shaved and changed into clean, more comfortable clothes. He ordered a snack and a couple bottles of beer from room service, and sat down to wait for Julia and the opportunity to finally talk about Brooke.
He had not been intimate with his assistant. He had been tempted. After the cool, halfhearted reception he had been receiving in bed from Julia for some time now…hell, yes, he’d been tempted. Brooke was young, lovely and willing. So he had kissed her a couple times, caressed her, a little bit…but…
There was always a but, Jon reminded himself. And in his case, the but was always the same. He just couldn’t do it. Brooke hadn’t been the first woman to tempt him in the nearly twenty years he and Julia had been together. He considered himself a normal male, blessed with a healthy sex drive, and was naturally attracted to desirable women.
But Jon had a well-developed conscience. So, though he had a keen appreciation for the opposite sex, and from time to time indulged in harmless flirtations, his conscience would not allow him to betray his marriage vows.
Besides, he truly was still in love with Julia, had loved her almost from their first meeting. It was just that, over the years, he supposed they had begun being used to each other, taking each other for granted.
Then, when Emily had taken a hard fall from her horse, he had absolutely refused to perform the necessary surgery on her. How in the name of heaven had Julia expected him to wield a scalpel on Emily? Jon had asked himself a hundred times. He might have acquired a reputation for having nerves of steel…but for Christ’s sake, his own kid! One tiny tremor of his hand and…it didn’t bear thinking about.
Never mind that in the end, he had to take over halfway through the procedure when his mentor, Dr. Michaelson, had suddenly hesitated, sent a quick, stark look at Jon and admitted to feeling ill and light-headed.
Jon hadn’t thought, he hadn’t had time to think. His daughter was on the table, her spine open. He did what he did best; he completed the surgery…successfully.
Although the incident with Dr. Michaelson had turned out to be a mild weak spell, the nearly seventy-year-old doctor had decided it was time to change places. He relinquished all surgical duties to Jon, while standing by to advise and assist.
Jon had done precisely what Julia had begged him to do; he had repaired the damage to Emily’s spine. She was completely healed now, riding again. Jon rode with her as often as he could. Yet, for some perverse reason, he had never told Julia what had happened, allowing her to believe he had merely been one of the doctors assisting Dr. Michaelson.
Jon reached for another beer, screwed off the cap, and let his hand drop back onto the chair arm. At any rate, after that, he mused, they kind of lost contact or something. He had been concentrating on his now very lucrative practice; Julia had busied herself with their children, being the perfect doctor’s wife, homemaker and mother.
Nursing his beer, Jon was struck by an altogether new, sobering, and frightening thought: What if Julia had decided she no longer cared about their marriage…or him. A chill of dread ran through him, clutched at his gut.
He couldn’t lose Julia; they were a team, as important—no, more important—to him than his surgical team. They had created two beautiful children together.
For all his fantasies, flirtations, temptations, Julia was still the only woman he had ever loved.
Could they possibly recapture the passion they had shared at the beginning of their marriage? Was it possible to reignite a flame that burned perilously close to extinction? If not, could he continue to live the way they had been existing? Would he even want to?
In that instant, Jon vowed to do whatever it took to reestablish the deeply intimate connection he and Julia had shared when they first fell in love. Even if it took not days or weeks, but months.
Because, although Jon knew he could go on with his life without Julia, he didn’t think he wanted to.
Drew walked along Market Street with a jaunty step. He had just secured an upper management position with a world-renowned firm and at a salary nearly twice what he was earning with his current employer.
Incredible. Drew was tempted to laugh out loud, but he managed to keep his joy contained, so as not to be treated to suspicious glances.
He would give a month’s notice, which would take them almost until the end of spring, past the end of the school term. The kids could finish out the school year before they moved.
At last he could get out of his dead-end job, get out of debt, get the hell out of Maine. Laura could get help around the house—a bigger house—get help with the younger kids, if she wanted it, possibly even go back to college to finally get her degree.
Maybe if Laura went back for her degree, even part-time, she would fix herself up a little, take off some weight. She sure had let herself go.
Despite her unkempt appearance, Drew was still fond of his wife, even as he strode off to meet another woman. He had told Laura he couldn’t go sightseeing with her yesterday because he had something to do. Wanting to surprise her, he couldn’t very well tell her he was going house-hunting.
On the fervent hope he would be offered the job, Drew had picked up a paper, intending to investigate some places on his own. But it didn’t take him long to realize going it alone was a bad idea; he simply didn’t know the area well enough. Giving up the fruitless exercise, he made an appointment to meet a Realtor.
Her name was Megan O’Connor, and she was a looker. She had dark hair, a creamy complexion, and a slender figure, much like Laura’s had once been.
Drew suddenly realized that every woman who had attracted him over the years had somewhat reminded him of Laura. The way she had looked when he fell in love, or lust—whatever—with her.
Strange.
Mentally shying away from the probing thought, as he didn’t particularly like self-probing thoughts, Drew centered his concentration on the progress he had made, both with the house-hunting and the accommodating Realtor.
Megan had taken him to a couple of new suburban homes that were open for public viewing. Drew had taken her to lunch. She had then driven him past other houses, which were on the market but required appointments to view. Drew had taken her to dinner. The last place Megan had shown him was her apartment. Drew had taken her to
bed.
Now he was on his way to meet with Megan again. He had called her on his cell phone before leaving the high-rise office building where his new employer was located. She had told him she had managed to make appointments for him to see two of the houses that had appealed to him yesterday.
Drew was anticipating ending up once again in her apartment, and in her bed. Excitement ran through his body—for the afternoon, and for future trysts with Megan, after he had relocated to the area.
There were times when he suffered pangs of guilt over being unfaithful to Laura. She was a good wife to him, and an excellent mother for his children. But she had really let herself go.
Even so, Laura was special. In bed, in the dark, Drew still enjoyed making love with her. The thing was, he also enjoyed having sex with other women, a variety of other women.
Besides, everybody did it. Didn’t they?
That very same Friday afternoon, Rand Cravington—actually Randolf Cravington the Third—grunted in pleasure. Sweat slickened his thirty-year-old body, as he strove to stake his claim to the squirming, arching woman beneath him.
God, Krissy was hot, the hottest woman he had ever been with. The hottest, and the best. Krissy was the only woman who had ever been able to fully satisfy him, wring every drop of sexual hunger and pure emotion from him.
He came close to the edge, wanting release, holding it back. His hands grasped her twisting hips, moving faster, harder, thrusting deeper into the wet heat of her. He shivered in response to her long fingernails raking his back, thrilled to the harsh sound of her voice begging him for more and still more.
There was nothing else for it, Rand decided, starting to shake as he drew closer to the moment of release. He had to have Krissy for his very own. And that meant marriage, although he knew too well that she had sworn never again to commit to another man. Hell he should know. He had heard her say it often enough. But he was afraid he was seriously in love with her…and not just her gorgeous body and the intense pleasure she and it gave him.
In a strange way they fit together, their tastes alike in most things, despite their ten-year age difference. They shared the same dry, wicked sort of humor. She made him laugh. He could make her laugh…even when neither one of them were in the mood for laughter.
All he had to do now was get her to agree to marry him.
Damn. How was he going to accomplish that?
He slowed the action of his plunging body.
“Don’t stop now!” Krissy cried, arching high, writhing against him. “I’m almost there.”
And there was his answer. A soft smile playing on his lips, he slowed even more, to a gentle, tormenting rhythm.
“Marry me, Krissy.” He held his breath.
“Are you crazy?” She glared at him.
Feeling about to explode, he nevertheless stopped moving, went absolutely still. “Say you’ll marry me.” Lowering his head, he kissed her breasts, her so beautiful, perfectly formed breasts, and raised his hand to caress the left one.
“Damn you!” she cried out, squirming beneath him to dislodge his hand. Grasping his hips, she pulled him deeply inside her. “Move, dammit! Move!” she ordered.
He remained as still as possible. “Not till you say it. Say you’ll marry me.”
“You are crazy, you know that?” She bit her lips; her eyes grew misty.
“Perhaps.” Bending, he slid his tongue over her lips, laved the small bite indentation. “But we’re so good together. Not only in bed, but in every way. You’re good for me, and I believe I’m good for you. Say yes, Krissy.”
“All right! All right!” Though she almost screamed her assent at him, a tear trickled down her cheek. Then she tugged at him, digging her long nails into his taut buttocks. “Now, please,” she pleaded. “Finish it, damn you.”
His face still close to hers, Rand kissed the tear from her cheek, murmured, “Thank you,” and plunged, again and again. A moment later she screamed again, in pleasure, just as he cried aloud and emptied his passion into her.
Life was good. It was Rand’s last muzzy thought before falling into a satiated sleep.
CHAPTER 6
Krissy inhaled deeply, reveling in the aftermath of her recent lovemaking with Rand. The oblivion had managed to silence the voice of fear terrifying her wakeful mind at the thought of what might be happening to her body—in her breast.
Her mental ease was short-lived, as a few minutes later the phone emitted that funny trilling ring seemingly exclusive to hotels.
“I don’t suppose you’d want to get up and get that?” Krissy felt quite sure she couldn’t lift her boneless arm. “Would you?”
“I can’t,” Rand muttered, laughter in his muted voice. “I’m dead.”
“You might wish you were if you persist with your mad idea of marriage,” she retorted, heaving a loud sigh as the phone trilled once more.
He laughed out loud. “I’m going to persist and insist you stick to your agreement…even if it does kill me. Now answer that damn phone.”
Finding she could move, lift her arm, she snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Krissy, hi,” Laura said, in a depressingly cheery tone. “You sound fuzzy. Did I wake you?”
“No, not really, I was just resting,” she hedged, not wanting to lie outright. “You know, floating on a cloud between wakefulness and sleep.”
“Oh, sorry to disturb you.” Laura sounded contrite.
“It’s okay, hon,” Krissy assured her. “What can I do for you?”
“Agree to meet me and Drew for dinner tomorrow night,” Laura said, excited. “Help us celebrate. He got that job, Krissy, and a substantial raise.” Now her voice seemed ready to bubble over. “And we’ll be moving back into the Philly area.”
“Oh, Laura, love, that’s wonderful. Of course we’ll meet you. Rand arrived yesterday.”
“That’s terrific. Can’t wait to meet him. We’ll see you then….”
“Laura, wait,” Krissy cried, laughing. “You’ll only see us if we know where and what time to meet.”
“Oh, what a ditz,” Laura groaned, giggling like a happy schoolgirl. She rattled off the name and location of an upscale restaurant. “Seven okay?”
“Sure.” Krissy found herself giggling, too.
“Great. I gotta go. I must call Julia.”
After hanging up, Krissy turned in the bed to face the naked man lying among the tangled bedcovers. He was grinning at her like a self-satisfied…devil, the devil who had moments before coerced her into agreeing to marrying him. Lord, he was breathtaking, his face so handsome, his body both chiseled and buff. And what he could do with that body, those strong, slender hands, his perfect mouth. She shivered with pleasure at the mere thought of what he could do.
“We’re going out with my friends for dinner tomorrow evening.”
“So I heard.” His grin turned wolfish.
“What’s that lecherous smile for?”
“I also heard you say you were floating on a cloud.” Raising his hands, he grasped her waist and dragged her over his body, making her aware of his arousal—as if she could have missed it had she tried. “Wanna float again?”
“Ummm…no, I want to fly.”
“Then come…and fly with me.”
Krissy roared with laughter. Rand was well versed in the double entendre. He wasn’t bad at flying lessons, either, she mused as his mouth began revving her engine.
It was almost six-ten when Julia returned to the hotel. She hadn’t done yet more shopping, but spent the lovely spring day reacquainting herself with Independence Hall, the National Constitution Center, the Liberty Bell, and strolling Penn’s Landing on the Philly waterfront.
Her pulse leaped the instant she opened the door and heard the familiar sound of a local TV newscaster she had watched for years.
Jon was here.
Heart beginning to race, Julia rushed into the room, only to pull up short, disappointment quickly slowing her heart rate. The TV was playing. T
he familiar newscaster was reporting another car accident on I-95.
Jon was slumped in the comfortable chair by the window. He was sound asleep…softly snoring.
Julia sighed, but a tender smile tugged at her lips. Long flights always left him feeling beat. They left her feeling the same, too. There were bottles of beer on the table next to the chair, one more than Jon’s usual limit of two.
Julia moved to him, intending to wake him so he could crawl into bed and get comfortable. It was then she noticed that only two of the bottles were open, and one of those was still nearly half full. Though she felt relieved, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of beer surrounding him. As she was reaching to shake his shoulder, the phone on the table next to the chair gave a burring trill. Instead of grabbing his shoulder, her hand grabbed the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Julie, it’s me.” Laura fairly sang the greeting.
“Hi, yourself,” Julie said. “What’s up?” She watched Jon straighten up in the chair and run a hand through his already rumpled hair.
“Drew got the job,” Laura blurted out.
“Oh, Laura, that’s wonderful,” she said, happy for her and Drew. “Give him my congratulations.”
Laura laughed. “You can give them yourself. He wants to celebrate, and he wants you guys to celebrate with us at dinner tomorrow night. Krissy and her new man are joining us.”
“Sounds like fun, and we’d love to join you, too.” She held up a hand in a silent request for patience when Jon gave her a frowning, questioning look. “All we need to know is the time and place and we’ll be there.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “Laura’s in town?”
Nodding, Julia covered the mouthpiece with her hand, and whispered, “And Krissy.”
Laura relayed the particulars, adding breathlessly that they would be moving back to the area, and hung up.
“We’re have a celebratory dinner with Laura and Drew, and Krissy and the new man in her life.”
