by JoAnn Ross
“What if I turn out to be the worst lover you’ve ever had?”
“Not.” He punctuated the word with a light kiss. “Going.” Another kiss. “To.” And another. “Happen.” One more.
That said, he unzipped her jeans and pulled them down her legs, while she yanked her sweatshirt over her head. Her underwear was next, then she was on her knees, lifting up his shirt, exposing a ripped, dark torso that, were it featured on the cover of one of her books would have had copies flying off shelves. Who knew that whale research could be so physical?
He stood up and dragged his jeans down his legs, followed by a pair of red (!!) boxer briefs that definitely hinted at hot, hidden depths.
Desperate to get him on her, in her, she grabbed his hands and pulled him back down onto the bed.
“I want to take this slow,” he reminded her again. “Make it last.”
Easy for him to say.
But apparently determined to set the pace, Adam linked their hands together then raised them to the white iron headboard and curled her fingers around the lacy filigree.
Time slowed as his clever hands touched her everywhere. As his mouth followed the trail those hands had blazed. He caressed. Ravished. Loved.
And then, after he’d brought her to a high peak, and sent her tumbling into a dazzling explosion of light and heat, he took her up again. And again.
Finally, just when she didn’t think she could take any more, Adam allowed her to turn the tables, teasing, tasting, tormenting, moving around the bed, staying just out of reach, until it was his turn to beg for release.
Which Meghann gave him. Eventually.
“I think you killed me,” he said as they lay in a tangle of arms and quivering legs, waiting for their hearts to slow to a halfway-normal rhythm.
She trailed her fingers down his damp washboard chest. Which had her wishing she’d let Caro drag her to the gym more often. Nature had blessed her with a long, lean body. Unfortunately, too many hours spent seated at a computer had admittedly left certain parts a bit…well, she couldn’t deny it…jiggly.
“You said you wanted to take things slow.”
“I did.” He cupped her breasts, lifting them to his lips before pressing a line of kisses down her torso to her stomach, which she was too satiated to bother to suck in. Not that he seemed to notice. Or care.
Which was another surprise. After all these years of waiting, Meghann had secretly worried that they’d be a bit uncomfortable afterwards. But no, they were as easy and natural with each other as they’d ever been. As if no time at all had passed, they’d fallen right back into a friendship that had made the sex all the richer.
“Tell me about your marriage,” he asked quietly.
Oh, and wasn’t that perfect timing? Then again, now that they’d moved their relationship to a much more intimate level, she decided that he was entitled to know the story of how pitiful she’d been.
“It’s pretty much a cliché. I was in college and a professor was very complimentary about my writing. He said I had a great future as a novelist.”
“So at least he got that right.”
“I suppose that depends. Even though I’d gone most of my life without a family, New York was like landing on a foreign planet. At least, in Oregon, I knew the landscape. So, I found myself totally at sea when he plucked me out of a comparative prose fiction class. Apparently he mentored one student each semester, and given the talent pool, I was hugely grateful to have been selected.”
“Since I knew you’d make it back when we were in high school, I hate to suggest that you being young, gorgeous, and probably more naive than a lot of students had anything to do with it. But—”
“I know.” She sighed. “You don’t have to say it. I was star-struck, but it really was a wonderful opportunity. Even if I did have to unlearn much of what he taught me when I actually decided to write genre fiction. Which was the problem. He never accepted my work as ‘real’ novels.”
“How many books has he published?”
“He’s edited some anthologies of historical literary fiction.”
“By historical, you mean that the writers were all dead, right?”
“Technically.”
“Even writers aren’t immortal, unless you believe in vampires and zombies,” he said. “They’re either dead or alive.”
“All right. Yes. They were dead.”
“So all he basically did was republish their work and get the credit.”
“You realize you’re making me feel really stupid.”
“Not stupid. Never that. Maybe naive,” he repeated. “And probably too trusting for your own good.”
Call her perverse, but Meghann actually liked that they were still able to argue without taking away from their feelings for one another. Something she’d never been able to do with her husband, who always had to be right about everything.
“He was very well respected.”
“He sounds like a jerk. And maybe a predator, hitting on his students. I have a hard time believing that’s acceptable. Even in New York.”
“Romantic relationships are discouraged because of the imbalance of power—”
“Gee, you think?”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
“I’m sorry.” He waved a hand. “Carry on. But I have to say that if I’d been there, I would’ve had to punch the guy’s lights out.”
“Ah, we’re back to the Die Hard model of showing emotion.”
Adam didn’t argue that point. “Pushing him out a window would also be a good idea. After I kicked out his lung.”
The idea of Adam beating up her ex-husband would have been humorous. If it weren’t for his rock-hard eight pack (who knew there were two extra packs beyond six?) and if it didn’t admittedly seem sexy. In a chauvinistic alpha-male sort of way. Like nerdy Peter Parker turning into superhero Spiderman.
“Getting back to the topic, romances weren’t officially prohibited. And Anthony—”
“That was his name?”
“Anthony Leicester-Ravensdale.
“Get out. You’re shitting me.”
“No. That was really his name.”
“Hell, Meggie, you didn’t stand a chance. You moved all the way across the country to run into Mr. damn Darcy.”
She’d gotten to the point that she could laugh. “I wish we’d stayed in touch,” she said wistfully. “I could’ve used a laugh back then.”
“You’ve no idea how much I wish that, too. Even if you would have been forced to bail me out of jail for assault and battery on a stick-up-the-butt snob.”
“How did you know about the stick?”
“I’m a scientist. I spend my life dealing with deductive reasoning.”
“Anthony was never physically abusive.”
“Just emotionally,” he suggested through gritted teeth. He was actually furious on her behalf. How amazingly wonderful was that?
“He belittled my work,” she admitted. “Not just privately but every chance he got. It got so I dreaded going to faculty events because I knew he’d manage to get in at least one little dig about ‘Meghann’s little stories.’” Which was one of the nicer descriptions. Trite, derivative, rubbish, and a waste of trees were others that she decided, from the way Adam’s left hand had curled into an unconscious fist, not to share.
“He’s a douche. You’re lucky to be rid of him.”
“I know. But mostly because if I was still with him, I wouldn’t be here with you.” She cuddled closer, noticing the grit digging into her butt for the first time. “We got sand in the bed.” She lifted a hand to her stiff hair. “And my hair is crunchy.”
He grabbed a handful and put it into his mouth, testing. “Salty,” he agreed. He untangled himself, stood up and held out a hand, bending down like a footman to a duchess. Escaping Jane Austen mentality was not easy, she thought with an inner sigh.
“There are extra sheets in the closet.” He told her nothing she didn’t remember from her day
s as a maid. “First, what would you say to a shower?”
She took his hand. “Given my choice between one of those billionaires who are such a romance staple these days and a hot guy with a brilliant mind, I’ll take hot and brilliant anytime.”
10
Having already exchanged gifts with everyone she knew in New York, including buying fashionista Caro a racy red Alexander Wang Rocco bag, Meghann had realized during the boat parade that she didn’t have anything for Adam. Nor did she have a clue what he would like. Or need. His choice in clothing didn’t appear to have changed that much from high school, other than the fact that he no longer had a geeky Star Wars key ring hanging from his jeans.
“He’s over for dinner a lot on nights Mac doesn’t work at the station,” Annie told her over a scrumptious warm squash, apple, and lentil salad. “Mac, whose motto is friends should never let friends listen to pop, has expanded his play list from classical and electronica to more country, but I’m not sure what CDs or downloads he has. I know he’s a huge reader, so you can never go wrong with a book.”
“Science fiction, I suppose.” Another thing that apparently hadn’t changed.
“Actually, now that I think about it, he and Mac were talking about a contemporary western mystery they’d both read.”
“I saw a book sticking out of his backpack when he came for Thanksgiving dinner,” Emma, who’d opted for the mac and cheese, said. “It had a boy and girl kissing on the cover.”
“Really?”
“It was one of yours,” Annie divulged. “The Nerd Next Door.” She grinned. “I read it myself and could totally see Adam in the boy.”
Yikes. Had she been that transparent? And if so, had Adam recognized himself? Uh, like the stargazing lecture while the girl was waiting to be kissed wasn’t a dead giveaway? Note to self: stop stealing from your real life.
“Everything’s fair game to writers,” she admitted. “But that was totally fiction.”
“Of course it was,” Annie agreed, even as it was obvious that she was dying to ask how much of the girl had been Meghann. “But to be honest, I suspect that while I love young adult fiction for the emotional depth—”
“Because everything is life and death at that age,” Meghann interjected.
“Isn’t that the truth?” She smiled toward Emma, who’d been temporarily distracted by a sea gull who’d dropped an oyster onto the patio outside the window and was proceeding to pick it apart. “This one’s already so dramatic, I figure the coming years will be interesting.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Annie’s smile faded and a shadow came across her eyes. “I never thought I’d have children. And now I have three.” The smile came blazing back like a summer sun, burning away the shadow. “So, whatever happens, it’s all good.”
“That’s lovely.”
Although she’d never met a man she’d want to have a child with and figured she had a few years yet before she had to worry about her eggs getting old, Meghann had been too focused on her writing to think about having children herself. But she had to admit that a little girl like Emma or a boy with shaggy bangs hanging down over serious gray eyes that observed the world from behind Harry Potter glasses would be nice. Better than nice, she considered. Someday…
“Anyway,” Annie continued, “my point was that I suspect Adam only reads those books because you wrote them. The same way I started listening to KBAY more to hear the Mac at Midnight show than the country songs. That’s pretty much how we communicated in the beginning. We’d talk a few minutes off the air between songs, then he’d send me messages by his song choice.”
“Clever,” Meghann said.
“I was coming off a divorce and gun shy.” Annie shrugged. “And Mac was a divorced single dad trying to figure things out. I think it was safer for both of us. And we definitely talked more openly before we met in person than most people probably do their first few dates.”
“Adam and I have a history.”
“So I heard. You were his tutor.”
“In English.”
“And you loved him.”
Meghann took a sip of the ruby merlot she’d ordered with lunch. “And you figured that out how?”
“It was obvious from the book. Which may be fiction, but putting it together with the chemistry between the two of you I saw last night, and that kiss, well, I’d say that you’ve both kindled old flames.”
“We didn’t have any flames back then,” Meghann admitted. “Just embers.”
“Well, then.” Annie lifted her glass. “Here’s to second chances.”
“Second chances,” Meghan echoed.
* * *
Having been told that Adam liked western mysteries, Meghann dropped into Tidal Wave Books and bought a copy of C.J. Box’s latest in his Joe Pickett series. There could be a problem if Adam hadn’t bought her a gift, she belatedly realized. Which was not really a problem since being a longtime fan of Wyoming game warden Joe Pickett herself, she could always read it.
And who would have guessed that a girl who read Jane Austen and a boy who knew all the Star Trek books by number, would have a fictional genre in common? Making her wonder again how things might have turned out if they hadn’t separated.
That was then. This was now. And for now, she was looking forward to a romantic Christmas Eve when her phone buzzed. Speaking of her hottie nerd…
“They were right,” Adam said without preamble after she’d swiped open her phone.
“You found him?”
“No. He slipped by us. Dee called to let me know he’s in the harbor.”
“You’re kidding.” She waved a hand he couldn’t see. “Never mind.” She thought of all the boats chugging in and out with so many people taking advantage of an unusually sunny Christmas Eve on the water. “Now what?”
“That’s still to be determined. But meanwhile, I’m afraid our private holiday celebration is going to have to be postponed.”
“No problem.” She glanced over at Annie, who, from her expression, was apparently receiving the same message from the twins on her phone. “I’ll meet you there.”
She was waiting for Adam when the Sea Wolf arrived back at the dock. The word had, unsurprisingly, spread, and people had flocked to the harbor to watch the black-and-white Orca that was providing live entertainment.
“That’s spyhopping,” Emma said, pointing as the whale bounced around, the top half of his body sticking vertically out of the water. “I saw it on the DVD Jordan brought home from his whale class. He’s probably looking around for his family.” Her excitement flagged at that idea. Like helium escaping a bright pink balloon. “Poor thing.”
“It’s good that he’s here,” Annie assured her daughter. “Now that Adam knows where he is, he’ll be able to take care of him.”
“And get him back with his mommy?”
Annie exchanged a look with Meghann. Although her tone had remained reassuring, her eyes were as concerned as Meghann herself was.
“Adam is the best,” she hedged, obviously not wanting to make a promise she couldn’t keep.
“It’s the captain,” Dee, who didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see a whale hopping among all the pleasure boats, said. “I told Adam he was here to brighten his family’s holiday.”
“His family is out in the ocean,” Emma said with a frown.
“That may be his whale family,” Dee allowed. “But his human family is here and his spirit has come to be with them.”
“Really?” The little girl’s eyes widened. “Like a ghost?”
“Like a spirit,” Dee corrected. “A friendly spirit.”
“Like Caspar.” Emma nodded. “I’ve seen the cartoons on TV. Though lots of people are afraid to be his friend because he looks spooky, there’s no one nicer. Just like Orcas.”
Dee tilted her head and looked down at the blonde sprite. “You’re a smart little girl.”
“I know,” Emma agreed.
Meghann lef
t them discussing spirit animals to meet Adam as he climbed off the boat. “Well, at least you won’t have to be stuck out there in the fog and cold anymore,” she told him, trying to find a bright spot in all this. “Because he’s come to you.”
“Which isn’t much help since there’s no way his pod is going to come in here,” he said grimly. “And I don’t even want to think about him getting sliced up by boat propellers.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” The idea was horrible and as bad as it would be for the whale, witnessing such a thing could undoubtedly leave emotional scars on all the children who were beginning to arrive at the dock. “Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “The bottom line is to reunite him with his pod. There have been instances of driving a whale into a net, then lifting it up and moving it by truck. Or plane.”
“That sounds terrible!”
“It’s not ideal.” Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “And definitely as last resort. Some facilities around the world are still borrowing or trading breeding whales and even when they’re put into tanks and monitored, it’s still life threatening. Which is why nearly fifty airlines, including some major, but unfortunately not all, U.S. carriers will no longer fly them.”
“That definitely doesn’t sound like very friendly skies.” Meghann was appalled at the idea of this poor lost Orca being forced into a net and stuck on truck or plane. “So, how are you going to safely get him to go where you want him to?” she asked.
“It’s problematic. Since you can’t exactly call a wild whale over like you can a dog. One thing we’ve got going for us is that Orcas are incredibly social creatures.”
“Is it a male or female?”
“It’s too early to tell. Whales grow at pretty much the same rate as humans. Once they hit adolescence, the male fins grow so fast that they’re called sprouters. That’s the main difference between sexes. Males have much larger dorsal and pectoral fins. For a long time marine biologists tried to figure out why an animal genetically designed to be so sleek, whose skin has been created to have laminar flow, which allows it to move through the water without a ripple, would grow such bulky, oversized fins that only slow it down. Guess what the general consensus turned out to be?”
