by Mary Campisi
“Stay,” he said.
“I’m tired.” She started to back away. “I should go.”
“Kate. What are we doing?”
She opened her mouth to throw out a flip response but the tone in his voice spoke of confusion and desperation, two feelings she knew well. “I don’t know.”
“I should despise you for keeping Julia from me, and yet, I find myself thinking about you constantly. That afternoon at the Manor, I thought it was the start of something new between us and then it all blew to hell.”
Careful. You’re risking your heart here. “Fate has a way of doing that.”
“Don’t be coy.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and settled his fingers on the base of her neck.
Could he feel her pulse pounding like a frightened bird? “I don’t know what to say.”
“The truth?” He leaned toward her, lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze. “Was that journal really just a fantasy? Was there even a paragraph, a few sentences maybe that were true?”
“Does it matter?”
“Very much.”
She leaned her face against his hand and whispered, “It was true.”
“All of it?”
She pressed a kiss in the palm of his hand. “Every word.”
“Jesus,” he breathed, crushing her to him. “Thank God.”
They clung to one another, their bodies hot and wet and filled with passion. “I never stopped loving you,” she whispered against his chest, “not for one second of all those years.”
He loosened his grip and looked down at her. “I swear to God, Kate, when I came to Montpelier, I meant to tell you right away about my company. But then I saw you,” his voice grew rough, “and I was eighteen again.”
“I know.”
“Give me another chance to do it right this time?”
She clasped her arms around his neck and leaned up on tiptoe. “Yes,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his. “Oh, yes,” she breathed, exhilarated by his closeness. He lifted her in the water and swung her around twice, laughing. “Rourke, stop! You’re making me dizzy.”
“Stop? Did you say stop?” He hoisted her in his arms and hugged her against his chest. “Sweetheart, in five minutes you’ll be begging me not to stop.”
She kissed a spot above his left nipple. “I have a feeling you’re right.”
He carried her to the edge of the pool and eased her along his body, slowing as she rubbed against his erection. “Come to me, Kate.” Water glistened from his lips as he spoke. “Give yourself to me.”
She’d always been his and years and a marriage hadn’t changed that. Kate unfastened the top of her two-piece and eased the fabric over her breasts.
“Perfect,” Rourke whispered, cupping her breasts. “You were always perfect.”
She stepped out of her bottoms not caring that she no longer possessed the suppleness of an eighteen-year-old. Rourke still wanted her, stretch marks, wrinkles, and all. She dipped two fingers beneath his trunks and pulled them down. His penis jutted out, full and ready. She offered him a shy smile, dove under water and took him in her mouth. He held her head between his hands and jerked against her with quick, spasmodic strokes. When she came up for air, his eyes were slits, his breathing harsh, his chest heaving.
“Jesus.”
“Sit here,” she said, tapping the side of the pool. “I’ve been dreaming of this for years.”
He lifted himself onto the edge of the pool and groaned when she slid between his legs and took him in her mouth once more. She worked her tongue and mouth along his hardness, stroking, sucking, teasing. “Oh, God,” he moaned. His hips jerked with fierce determination. “You have to stop now. Kate. Stop, before it’s too late.”
She worked her tongue along his shaft and murmured, “What was that about five minutes and begging?”
Rourke let out a growl and slid into the water, grabbing her hips and entering her in one swift motion. Kate cried out and rode him hard and fast, desperate to get closer, to become a part of him. “Deeper,” she pleaded, wrapping her legs high around his waist. She clung to him as he pumped into her, his eyes clamped shut, the cords of his neck bulging, his mouth a flat line, until with one final stroke, he spilled himself deep inside her.
He was still pulsing when he reached between them and fingered her with slow, delicious intent. “I’ve never been able to forget you,” he whispered against her neck. “Never been able to forget this.” He circled his thumb against her swollen flesh, faster and faster, until she couldn’t stand the torment any longer. She screamed his name as jolts of pleasure tore through her in one brilliant climax.
“This is only the beginning,” he murmured, pulling her against him. “We have fourteen years to catch up.”
His words were still on Kate’s mind when the girls arrived home an hour later and raided the kitchen for lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. Rourke remained in his study, as agreed upon so as not to create suspicion, but turned up in the kitchen twice, saying he needed a chocolate fix to go with his beer. She dared not look at him for fear the girls would know what they’d been doing—in the pool, in his bed, in the shower.
Would the wanting never go away? This Rourke was much more than the tender lover he’d been at eighteen. This one possessed skill and determination blended with a persuasive ardor she could not and did not want to deny. An hour later, she drifted to sleep dreaming of Rourke. His smile. His laugh. His fingers…The feather light touch on the back of her neck woke her. Once, twice, three times. She slapped at her neck and jerked around. “Rourke! What are you doing here?”
He tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Last I checked, this was my house.”
“Shhh. You’re too loud.”
He chuckled and whispered, “Bossy woman. Give her an orgasm and she turns bossy.”
“Quiet, the girls might hear.”
He pulled her to him and dipped his tongue inside her mouth. “And you don’t want them to know how you were writhing and moaning beneath me a few hours ago.”
“No, I don’t.”
He trailed a finger along her collarbone and traced the outline of her breast. “Then I don’t suppose you want them to hear about what you were doing to me in the pool either.”
How did he make her forget caution whenever he touched her? “Definitely not,” she whispered, running her hands over his chest, down the muscles of his belly and lower still, to the hard erection jutting beneath his shorts.
“Ahhh, baby.” He jerked against her hand. “This is going to be a long night.”
She stroked his hardness and whispered, “Very long. Very hard. And very, very quiet.”
Chapter 26
“I understand you and Rourke knew one another years ago.”—Janice Prentiss
Georgeanne pulled out the scrap of paper from her shirt pocket and dialed the number. “You promised to take care of things.”
“I’m working on it.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“There’ve been a few complications.”
“Excuses. You have three days. Either I see results or I start talking.”
***
“Thank you for keeping this our little secret.” Janice Prentiss flashed Kate a brilliant smile. “I am just truly beside myself.” She sashayed into Rourke’s house like a runway model, dressed in a black Chanel slack suit with a low-cut jacket revealing ample cleavage and a Versace scarf tied at the neck.
Kate felt like a frump from the Goodwill store next to the woman. Her stomach had flip-flopped between jumpy and full blown nausea the second she’d agreed to see Janice for what the woman insisted was an urgent situation. Kate should have told Rourke about the phone call before he left for the office this morning but she hadn’t wanted anything to tarnish last night.
“Why don’t we go into the sunroom? It’s much more private there.”
Kate had never even been in the sunroom but obviously this woman had. What’s the urgent situation
, she wanted to ask. Tell me now.
“Would you like something to drink? Bette makes a wonderful chai tea.”
She spoke as though she were the hostess and Kate the guest.“No, thank you. I just finished breakfast, but help yourself to whatever you like.”
Janice smiled as if to say I always do. She tapped the intercom button with a lacquered nail and said, “Bette, this is Janice. I’d like a chai and a few of those delicious shortbreads you keep on hand. We’re in the sunroom. Thank you.” She released the button and sank into an overstuffed leather chair. “Please sit.”
Kate thought of refusing but the act would appear petty and ridiculous. She perched on the edge of the chair opposite Janice, feeling like an actor in a play whose lines had been deleted.
“I understand you and Rourke knew one another years ago.” Janice’s hazel eyes zoomed in on Kate.
“Yes, we did.” I will not let my voice wobble.
“Did you date?”
“For a time.”
Her eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction. “How sweet. I always say young love is like cotton candy—gooey and much too sticky, especially unrequited love.”
Kate bit her lower lip.
Janice lifted a slender, perfect brow. “Was that what you two shared? An unrequited young love?”
How could she possibly tell this woman the love she and Rourke shared had migrated and imbedded itself into their adult lives and finally, thankfully, burst forth in full bloom last night? She couldn’t tell her so she merely said, “His mother got sick and he moved away.” Close enough to the truth.
“Ahhh. Even worse. Love torn apart.” She trailed her red nails along the arm of the leather chair and let out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s the stuff of movies, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes, I believe it is.”
“Does Rourke know he has a child?”
Kate’s lungs clamped shut and she gasped for air.
“Is that why he’s suddenly auditioning for Father of the Year?”
Kate swallowed twice and forced out the words. “He knows.”
“I thought so.” Her full lips curled. “He won’t marry you.”
“I didn’t ask him to.” He will marry me. No one will stop us this time.
“You seem like a nice person, but we both know you don’t belong in his world. You belong with the other Kates of the world teaching school and baking cakes. Rourke loves the glitz and glamour of this life.” Her eyes sparkled. “He’s magnificent to watch.”
But he was still Rourke. Her Rourke.
Janice examined her diamond bracelet and said casually, “I haven’t told anyone about my discovery. It would take someone looking for it, or a person who knew Rourke very well to mesh the eyes, the hair color and texture. They even have the same bites, have you noticed that?”
Of course she had. “What do you want?”
“You should take your daughter and go home, Kate.”
“I don’t think what I do is any of your concern.”
Janice sighed. “I know what you’re trying to do here. You think you can convince him to marry you and eventually adopt Julia so no one has to know he’s her real father.”
“That’s not true.” Was it?
“Of course it is. Who wouldn’t want Rourke as a husband? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is not going to happen.”
What had Rourke ever seen in this woman, aside from the obvious? Maybe the obvious had been all he’d wanted. “I really have nothing more to say.”
“Of course you don’t, but then I didn’t expect you would.” She settled back in the leather chair and fingered a lock of hair. “There is one more thing to consider before you set up house here.”
Kate dragged her gaze to the woman, forcing politeness into her words. “What would that be?”
“I’m pregnant.”
***
“Maxine, what’s the name of the florist I use? Madelino’s? Gabelino’s?”
“Gabrellino’s, sir. Would you like me to place an order for you?”
“No, I’ll take care of it.” Rourke flipped through the Rolodex to the G’s.
“Very well, sir.” Maxine paused halfway to the door. “Would you like the number for Tiffany’s as well?”
He looked up and grinned. “Some things should be done in person, don’t you think?”
A hint of a smile slipped across her lips. “I do indeed, sir.”
“I thought so, too. I was thinking a platinum setting with an emerald cut. Two carats?”
“One can never go wrong with that, sir.”
He nodded and flipped through the Rolodex. “My thoughts exactly.”
Rourke left the office shortly before lunch and stopped at Tiffany’s. This purchase would be a lot different than the one he would have made at twenty-two. Tonight he’d give Kate the ring and ask her to marry him. They loved each other. They had a child together. They could work out the details later.
***
Rourke found Kate in the sitting room upstairs, perched on a window seat overlooking the garden. The perfect setting for a proposal. He tiptoed over and planted a kiss along the back of her neck. “Miss me today?”
She stiffened. “Hello.”
Her voice sounded clogged and worn. “What’s wrong?” He moved so he could face her. “Why are you crying?” She eyed him through puffy lids and swiped her nose with a tissue but remained silent. “Kate, talk to me.”
“I’m leaving in the morning.”
He couldn’t have heard her right. “What?”
“I’m leaving. Julia can stay another week.”
“You’re not making any sense. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she lifted a shoulder and shifted her gaze out the window as though the answer lay in the patches of colorful garden below. He’d been gone less than eight hours, what could possibly have happened?
Finally, she spoke. “We talked about making this room the nursery, do you remember?”
Maybe she wanted to talk about babies. Fine. “I remember every room we designed. That’s why I built this house.”
“I went through each one today and I see so many things we talked about. You must have memorized them all.”
Okay, so maybe she didn’t want to talk about babies yet. Maybe she wanted to talk about their dreams and the way they were at eighteen. That, he could handle. He tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear and said in a gentle tone, “I remember the tiniest detail of things that are important to me. Like you. We can talk about all the plans we made but I don’t want to resort to old memories anymore. I want to make new ones with you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the case from Tiffany’s. “This is for you,” he said gently. Her hands trembled as she fingered the case and eased it open. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Kate. Marry me.”
Her face collapsed and tears spilled down her cheeks to her chin in a fine, steady stream. He swiped at them with his thumb and said softly, “We can be together. Finally.” Rourke stroked her hair, loving the feel of it against his skin. “Every morning, you’ll wake up in my bed and every night, we’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms. We’ll travel together. I want to show you Greece and Italy. Julia will love—”
“I can’t marry you.”
“Well, not right now, but maybe after six months we could start planning.” He wanted her as his wife tomorrow, but he’d force himself to wait.
“No.” She clamped the case shut and shoved it in his hand.
What was she doing? She loved him. “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on so we can get through this.”
“It’s too late. We came so close and now,” she sniffed and turned to stare out the window, “it’s gone.”
“Look at me.”
“I can’t. I already have too many memories of you I can’t erase. I don’t want to remember anything else about you. Can’t you at least appreciate that?”
A slow bead of panic spiraled through
him, filling every pore in his body. “You’re not making sense. We have a second chance and now you’re going to just throw it away?”
“The chance is already gone.”
“It’s here.” He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Right here, with you and me. Tell me you know that.”
She shook her head and let out a tiny whimper. “Please, let me go.”
He couldn’t breathe. “What about last night? Didn’t that mean anything to you?”
“It meant everything to me. It’s what will get me through these next years.”
“Stop talking like that.” He heard the desperation in his own voice. She could not turn him away, not again. “What about the journal? You told me you meant every word.”
“I did.”
“Make me understand, Kate. Why are you doing this?”
The pain in her beautiful blue eyes gouged his heart. “Janice is pregnant.”
***
“What?”
Of course he didn’t know yet, but it didn’t matter.
“Answer me.”
Why did he always look so handsome and sincere just before he broke her heart? “Janice came to see me this morning. She told me then.”
