Tonight, it didn’t feel like just sex. It never really had, but he’d allowed himself to believe that because it had made it easier for him to reconcile himself to his own desires and needs.
He dug his heels in as Angie led him up the hallway toward the study. She glanced at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.
She went very still. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” The smile she gave him was a little tremulous. “Okay.”
Without another word, he turned around. He led her now, through the kitchen and into the hall that led to the master suite. He entered the room, crossing to the bedside table to flick on the lamp. The curtains were open, and he crossed to the window and pulled them closed.
When he turned, Angie was standing beside the bed, an unreadable expression on her face. After a second she raised her gaze to his.
“It’s stupid, but it suddenly feels more real, being in here.”
It did. Very real. As though what was happening between him and Angie was important, and not just some itch they were both scratching or an extension of their friendship.
“It’s just a bed,” he said.
It was true, but it was also more than that. Angie nodded, then her hands went to the tie on her belt. They were shaking, and all of a sudden his own feelings weren’t nearly as important as hers.
He crossed to her side, took her hands in his. She looked up into his face and he kissed her. After a few seconds her hands stopped trembling. Not breaking their kiss, he reached for her belt and started undressing her.
* * *
ANGIE LAY IN THE DARKNESS, her head pillowed on Michael’s shoulder. She was almost certain he was asleep. Her mind was too busy to allow her to rest, however, going over and over what had happened tonight.
First there had been the way he looked at her in the kitchen, kissing her hand and telling her he was glad she was here. Then he’d encouraged her to put her head on his lap and rested his hand on the nape of her neck.
Then, instead of taking her to the study to make love, he’d led her in here. Into his bedroom. The room he’d shared with Billie.
He’d made love to her with passionate intensity, the need he stirred within her quickly pushing all other considerations aside. They were back now, though. With a vengeance.
How many times had she sat on this bed and watched Billie try on clothes or put on makeup? Too many to count. The walk-in wardrobe on the far wall had once held Billie’s clothes. The vanity in the ensuite had once been cluttered with her perfumes and face creams and makeup. The chest of drawers had once played host to her jewelry box, a messy, crammed wooden chest overflowing with necklaces and bracelets and earrings.
Sometimes, it was very hard to remember that she wasn’t stealing anything from Billie by being with Michael. That it wasn’t a case of either/or. Billie was gone.
A single tear slid down Angie’s cheek and onto the pillow. It would have all been so much easier if she and Michael had never connected, if he’d gone on being Billie’s sad, widowed husband and she’d continued to be Billie’s best friend. But that wasn’t the way it had worked out.
Michael shifted beside her, his legs brushing hers. She turned her head to contemplate his profile in the dark. He was such a lovely man. A wonderful lover—passionate and patient and playful. A wonderful father, too. And a good friend. Having him fill so many of the empty corners of her life in the past few weeks had been…special.
She backed away from her own thoughts. This was all complicated enough without her getting carried away. No matter what happened when she and Michael were naked, no matter how many times they laughed and talked and shared their lives, it didn’t change the fact that he was still in love with his dead wife. Only a very foolish woman would allow herself to turn great sex and companionship into a hope for more. And she’d always prided herself on a being a smart cookie. Most of the time.
Her gaze slid to the clock on the bedside table. It was late. She needed to get dressed and go home.
She eased her head off Michael’s shoulder and shifted to the edge of the bed. She found her dress and was searching for her panties when the bedside lamp clicked on.
Michael propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes squinted against the light. “You going?”
“Yeah.”
She reached for her bra, aware that a very stupid part of her brain was waiting for him to suggest she stay.
Wasn’t it enough that he’d invited her into his bed tonight? Or was that what was making her greedy all of a sudden? That and the way he’d kissed her hand earlier?
“You up to much tomorrow?” he asked as she slipped her bra on and did up the back clasp.
“A friend has a show opening at a gallery in Flinders Lane. I said I’d go along and hold his hand. What about you?”
“The usual. Eva wants to practice riding her bike. Charlie will no doubt attempt to defy death yet again.”
She smiled before pulling her dress over her head. Her shoes were out by the couch, along with her handbag and everything else.
“That’s me, I think.” Michael threw back the covers but she held up a hand.
“You don’t need to show me out. I know the way.”
Michael gave her an admonishing look. “I’ll see you out.”
He pulled his boxer-briefs on and she was aware of him walking behind her as she collected her shoes and bag and made her way to the front door.
“I had a nice night,” she said.
“Yeah. So did I.”
“You should watch the rest of the movie tomorrow. It’s really funny.”
“It doesn’t need to go back to the shop?”
“It’s my copy.”
“Wow. Up there with The Sound of Music. Impressive.”
She punched him lightly on the biceps. “Funny guy.”
He caught her hand and used it to pull her closer. They kissed, a deep, wet, languorous meeting of mouths that made her want to peel her clothes off all over again.
After a few minutes she pulled back. “I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
“Okay.”
He looked incredibly good standing there in the dim hallway, naked except for his boxer-briefs. She gave his body one last appreciative scan before stepping onto the front porch.
“See you.”
She headed for her car, tossing her bag onto the passenger seat. She glanced across at the house before she pulled away from the curb. Sure enough, Michael was still standing in the doorway, making sure she got away okay. She raised her hand, not sure if he could see it in the dark, then pulled away from the house.
Twenty-five minutes later she was letting herself into her own apartment. For a moment she simply stood there, feeling oddly disoriented, as though she’d let herself into the wrong apartment or someone had come and moved her things around while she was out.
Or that she was simply in the wrong place, full stop.
She shook herself and the feeling passed as quickly as it came. Still, she read a few pages of a book to settle herself before turning off the light.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY SHE WALKED down to Brunswick Street and had breakfast at Babka Bakery, reading over the morning paper while stuffing herself with blintzes and coffee. Three times she caught herself reaching for her phone to call Michael to pass on some silly tidbit she’d read in the paper.
She’d left his bed barely ten hours ago. He didn’t need to hear from her again. And she didn’t need to get into the habit of telling him every little thing, either.
Her friend’s opening was busy, thronging with arty types in severe black. Angie held her friend’s hand until she was confident he could swim just fine on his own, then she slippe
d away and went home. She spent the night on the couch watching a documentary she’d recorded, pretending like crazy that she wasn’t lonely for the sound of Eva’s stomping feet and Charlie’s beseeching demands and Michael’s serious gray-green eyes.
She also told herself that she didn’t deliberately wake up early the next morning so she could spend more time with him before he had to go to work. It was just a happy coincidence that she happened to be getting out of her car and walking up his driveway when he still had a full hour before he had to hit the road.
He answered the door before she could knock, wearing nothing but his suit trousers. His hair was damp from the shower and his aftershave was fresh on, surrounding her in a heady cloud of spicy masculinity.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself.”
He smiled and she knew he knew she’d come early to see him and that he was glad she had.
“Eva and Charlie are still asleep,” he said. “I need to get them up soon or we’ll be late.”
“Good plan.”
His smile broadened into a grin. Without saying a word, he turned and headed up the hallway. She followed him without question, and when she entered his bedroom, she let out a small, grateful sigh when he pounced on her, pushing her up against the wall as he kissed her with almost savage abandon.
“Miss me?” he asked in a gravelly rasp as he pulled her T-shirt up and tugged her bra down.
“Yes.”
She gave a small moan as he bit her nipple gently before soothing it with his tongue. Her hand found his belly, sliding down the front of his trousers until she felt his erection beneath her hand.
“Daddy…?”
Angie’s head banged against the wall as she jerked away from Michael, her hands instinctively yanking her T-shirt down even as her gaze found Eva in the doorway, one hand knuckling the sleep from her eyes.
Oh, bloody hell.
Michael stepped back from her, his face very pale. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a dry croak. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“I just woke up. Why were you kissing Auntie Angie’s boobies like that?”
Embarrassed heat rocketed up her chest and into her face. Michael was red, too, but he didn’t take his gaze off his daughter.
“Auntie Angie and I were just having a cuddle,” he said lamely.
Angie closed her eyes for a long beat. Why hadn’t she closed the door? Better yet, why hadn’t she just come at her usual time instead of giving in to impatience and racing to see Michael again?
“You mean you were sexing,” Eva said knowingly. Her eyes were big and questioning as she looked at Angie.
Angie had no idea how much Eva knew about the birds and the bees. Judging by the way she giggled whenever someone on TV kissed, she guessed not much. She had no idea what to say and she looked to Michael, not wanting to step on his toes.
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” Michael stepped forward and put his hand on Eva’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go out into the kitchen so we can talk about this?”
For a moment Angie thought Eva was going to protest, but she simply gave Angie one last, wide-eyed look before allowing Michael to lead her from the room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANGIE PRESSED HER HANDS to her face, utterly appalled.
Of all the ways for Eva to discover what was going between her and Michael…
She felt a little sick. More than a little, actually, when she thought of what Eva must have seen when she walked through the door. She stooped and collected her bag. She walked to the doorway, then realized that she couldn’t exit that way without walking into the middle of what promised to be a complex father-daughter conversation.
She’d use the sliding door and cross the yard to the studio. Like a big old chicken.
She hovered, disliking the feeling that she was abandoning Michael to face the music. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to his children, after all. Although there was no telling how Eva would handle the notion that her father might be interested in “sexing” with a woman other than her mother.
Voices echoed up the hallway from the kitchen as she hesitated. Eva’s high tones, followed by Michael’s deeper voice.
“You don’t need to explain about sexing to me. Greta told me all about it. If you’re sexing with Auntie Angie, does that mean she’s going to be my new mummy?”
Angie closed her eyes. Poor Michael. Talk about a hairy question.
“No one is ever going to replace mummy, sweetheart.” Michael’s words echoed up the hallway, clear as a bell.
Angie swallowed. Then, before she could hear anything else, she crossed to the sliding door and let herself out onto the deck. She slid the door shut behind her and simply stood there, hands pressed against the cool glass.
She hadn’t heard anything she didn’t know already. Of course Michael still loved Billie. Of course he wasn’t looking for someone to replace her.
None of it was new—except for the fact that she’d just realized that somehow, while she’d been looking the other way, she’d fallen in love with Michael.
Ironic that it had taken hearing him declare his continuing devotion for Billie to make her face the truth.
Feeling more than a little dazed and decidedly fragile, she made her way across the deck to the studio. She fumbled with her keys, then opened the door and stepped inside. She didn’t bother turning on the lights, she simply went and sat on the chair at her workbench, her handbag pressed to her belly.
How had it happened? She’d gone in with both eyes open. She’d known from the get-go that he was never going to be emotionally available in that way. And yet she’d gone and fallen in love with him anyway.
All the breath left her body in rush. She felt so stupid. Really idiotic. She’d set herself up for hurt, big-time. And now it was heading her way like a Mack truck on a downhill run.
She didn’t bother hoping. There was no point telling herself fairy tales. For the past year and more she’d watched Michael mourn Billie. He loved her with every fibre of his being. It was as incontrovertible and uncontestable as gravity. She’d always known it, she’d slept with him knowing it. She’d told herself that it didn’t matter—and up until a few minutes ago she’d honestly believed it.
But somehow, in between the dinners and the days out at the beach and the bedtime stories and the laughter and the sex, she’d lost sight of the fact that Michael still belonged to Billie. She’d been lulled by his ready affection and the obvious pleasure he took in her company and her body. She’d always loved his children, but she’d allowed herself to sink into his family, to invest in them in a way she never had before.
That was why her apartment felt empty and foreign. That was why she’d rushed over here this morning, and why her heart gave a little kick whenever she saw him. Not because of the great sex, but because she loved him. Because he made her happy. Because she wanted his happiness more than anything in the world.
Footsteps sounded on the deck. Her gaze found the door as Michael appeared. He’d pulled on a shirt, but his feet were still bare. So typical of him.
“Is she okay?”
“A little confused. Which is hardly surprising.”
“No.”
“She asked me a few questions, but she seemed satisfied when I explained to her that sometimes adult friends like to cuddle and kiss when they really like each other.”
She nodded, imagining how difficult that conversation must have been for him. “I’m really sorry.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have shut the door.”
“I should have shut the door.” He shrugged. “It happened. I’m not wild about it, but it’s not the end of the world. Eva’s a smart kid. If she has any questio
ns, she’ll ask me. We’ll work it out.”
She stared at him. He was being so reasonable. So human and understanding and real. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.
For a moment, the knowledge that this special, lovely man would never, ever feel the same way about her was a physical pain in her chest. She blinked rapidly, swallowing the confession that was suddenly crowding her throat.
The last thing he needed was to know that she’d fallen in love with him. The very last. He had more than enough on his plate without having to take on responsibility for her pain. Which was exactly what he would do, because he was that kind of man.
The kind who worried about whether his friend was safe when she went to work in her crappy, run-down building. Who dropped everything to help the same friend clean up when she was overwhelmed by the bad luck that had come her way, and who never took her for granted or assumed anything where she was concerned.
She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her bag. Then she took the plunge and did what needed to be done.
“Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Things have been pretty crazy lately.”
A faint wrinkle appeared between Michael’s eyebrows. “Have they?”
“You know they have.” She smiled, hoping she didn’t look as anxious and close to tears as she felt. “And we always agreed that this would only last as long as it felt okay for both of us.”
His head shifted, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. “Does that mean it’s not feeling okay for you anymore?”
“I think it might be a good idea if we pulled back a bit. Took a bit of a break.”
“Right.”
He was confused. Why wouldn’t he be? Not twenty minutes ago she’d been panting and hot for him, her hand down the front of his pants.
“Is this because of Eva?”
“No. We both know what this is, Michael. I don’t want to lose sight of that. You’re not looking for anything permanent. And I don’t want to start believing in something that’s never going to happen.”
It was the truth, or part of it, anyway. It was enough to shock him. She could see it in his eyes—he’d never considered that she might fall in love with him. That was how wrapped up in Billie he still was.
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