“It seems pretty sturdy. And the rails are quite high. I don’t think a kid could roll out.”
“Maybe not, but what if she gets up in the middle of the night? What if she falls off the ladder?”
“Does she normally get out of bed in the middle of the night?”
“Well, no but—”
“Then what makes you think she’ll do it tonight?”
She raised an eyebrow. He was deliberately looking for excuses. She understood why he was so overprotective but it was killing him and upsetting Leslie. It was time to let go, just a little.
“Maybe, just for this one night, you could make an exception. If Leslie promises to wake Rebecca if she needs to use the washroom during the night and have her help her go down the ladder, would that make you feel better?”
He hesitated. Finally he nodded. “I guess so.”
“And Leslie, you promise not to go up and down the ladder unless one of us is here with you to help?”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Are you okay with that, Jack?”
The look on his face told her he wasn’t but he nodded anyway. She was proud of him. She knew his instincts screamed at him to protect and shelter his daughter from every conceivable danger. Allowing Leslie this small bit of freedom was a huge step for him.
“Did you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth?” he asked his daughter. She nodded solemnly.
She saw his Adam’s apple work as he struggled to get his emotions under control.
“Okay then, Sunshine. Good night.”
Leslie leaned over the railing to reach her father and he held her tightly for a minute. Then he kissed her cheek and turned away.
“I want to say good night to Bridget,” Leslie said, holding out her arms.
Bridget had to step on the ladder to reach Leslie. She kissed Leslie’s soft cheek and held her close a minute. For that minute she felt as if Leslie belonged to her as well. The thought disquieted her.
“Good night, sweetheart,” she said as she descended the ladder. “Sleep well.”
Jack turned on a night-light before they left the room, then softly closed the door. They quietly descended the carpeted stairs.
“Would you like a drink?” Jack asked.
“No, I’d better not. I still have to drive home. But I’d love a cup of coffee, decaf if you have it.”
“Sure. I’ll put on a pot.”
While Jack made the coffee, she flipped through the channels until she found the news. A moment later he arrived with a tray of coffee and the fixings.
“Anything new happening in the world?”
“The usual destruction and mayhem.” She poured milk into her coffee. Jack fixed his own coffee and sat beside her on the sofa.
“Are you sure this is going to be okay?”
Bridget knew he wasn’t talking about the latest Mideast crisis, but rather his daughter sleeping upstairs on the top bunk. Three lines of worry embedded themselves in his brow. Old habits were hard to break.
“All I know for certain is that Leslie needs to feel as if she’s in control of something in her life. And you need to feel like some of the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders.”
He grinned at that, and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. “I suppose you’re right. All worry and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
“I don’t think you could be dull if you tried.”
He laughed and the sound delighted her. She feigned annoyance.
“Now if you don’t mind I need to know what the president has to say about the government’s fiscal policy.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t let me stop you.”
They watched the news as they sipped their coffee, talking about some of the stories being discussed. Jack had a quick mind and was well informed on many issues. They didn’t always agree on political philosophies but she enjoyed sparring with him.
She hadn’t realized how wonderful it was to have someone to talk to, someone who respected her opinions and the things she had to say. Ben had either been uninterested or derisive of her views.
When the news ended at eleven o’clock, she set her empty cup on the coffee table.
“I should be going. I’m just going to say good night to Rebecca and try to get her to go to bed.” She tilted her head to one side and grinned at him. “Why don’t you come with me? She seems to actually listen to you.”
“She’s probably responding to my leadership qualities.”
“It’s a safe bet she’s not responding to your humility qualities.”
He chuckled as they headed toward his office on the other side of the house. When they opened the door they found Rebecca curled up in a big armchair in front of the TV, fast asleep. Bridget smoothed her daughter’s curly hair from her face.
“It’s too bad we have to wake her to send her to bed.”
“No, we don’t.”
He lifted her from the chair and carried her up the stairs as if she were a tiny child rather than a tall, gangly girl. When they reached Leslie’s room, Bridget opened the door and pulled back the comforter on the lower bunk. Jack placed her carefully in the bed, and covered her with the comforter. Bridget was surprised by the tenderness on his face. He gently tucked her hair behind her ears and when he kissed Rebecca’s forehead, a lump formed in Bridget’s throat. He had faults, but he was a decent, caring man and a wonderful father.
After checking on Leslie, who slept soundly in the top bunk, they left the room and quietly closed the door. Bridget turned to Jack, and looked into his eyes. It was crazy and probably foolish in the extreme, but in that moment her decision was made.
“I was wondering if your offer was still open.”
“My offer?”
“Last weekend you asked me to make love with you and I turned you down. I’ve changed my mind.”
“You mean it?” His eyes were full of equal parts hope and wariness.
“Yes, I mean it. I want to make love with you tonight.” She took his hand. “I know you’re not ready for any kind of commitment and I’m not either. I just want to be with you tonight.”
She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. His hesitation unnerved her. Had she waited too long?
Finally he smiled, and it felt to her like sunshine after the rain. He squeezed her hand.
“What took you so damn long?”
With that he led her to his bedroom.
Chapter Fourteen
It was like reaching back in time to a long-cherished memory and finding it as beautiful as it had been in his dreams.
He undid the buttons of Bridget’s blouse, his fingers trembling.
“When we were kids, I dreamed about undressing you.” He leaned toward her and kissed her neck, his pulse quickening when he heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Did you?” she breathed, her eyes fluttering to a close.
“Oh yes.” He slipped the cool silk from her shoulders to reveal a white bra. His arousal pushed urgently against his jeans as he kissed the swell of her breast just above the bra. Her soft skin tempted him to touch, caress. He ran his finger over her collarbone, inhaling her unique scent, something floral with a dash of spice. “I dreamed about revealing all that beautiful, creamy skin under your clothes, and counting every freckle on your body.”
She leaned toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders and smiling. “You wanted to count my freckles?”
“Every single one.”
He struggled to keep his tone light. But being here with her in his room, holding her, touching her, undressing her, made him feel as unsure as he’d been at nineteen. The one time they’d made love, though wonderful, had been in the backseat of his car, parked on a secluded country road. Their lovemaking had been intense, quick and almost fully clothed. The next day he’d gone back to Texas to work, and two weeks after that she’d left for California. Would history repeat itself? His heart lurched at the thought of her re
turning to San Francisco. He pushed it firmly from his mind.
“I also had this recurring fantasy where you did a little striptease for me.”
Bridget chuckled as she slipped her hands under his T-shirt, her soft, warm hands gently kneading his lower back. His stomach muscles tensed in response. “Sounds like you had an active fantasy life back then.”
“Still do.” He wouldn’t admit that she had played a leading role in his fantasies for years.
She took a step away from him, then pushed her blouse off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes danced with mischief. “Did your fantasy start anything like this?”
His mouth went dry. “Something like that.”
She opened the top button of her jeans and slowly slid the zipper down, her gaze never leaving his. “Did I do this in your fantasy?”
“Yes, I believe you did.”
“What was I wearing underneath my jeans?”
He licked his lips. “Red panties. Silk.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” She ran two fingers along the inside of the waistband of her jeans. “No red silk panties. Just good old, serviceable white cotton.”
“Oh yeah?” His blood pressure spiked. His erection demanded freedom, pushing against his zipper and testing his endurance.
“Afraid so. Wanna see?”
He could barely form coherent words. “Yes.”
“Okay, you asked for it.”
She pushed her jeans down her hips, slowly, languidly. They fell to the floor, pooling at her feet. She stepped gracefully away from them, and for a moment she stared at them, her hands splayed over her abdomen as if she were trying to cover herself. At last she lifted her gaze to his, all traces of playfulness gone. Was she afraid he wouldn’t want her?
“So what do you think?” she whispered.
He stepped forward and took her hand, kissing it tenderly. “I think that’s the sexiest bit of white cotton I’ve ever seen.”
She smiled tremulously. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She took a step back, mischief evident once more in her eyes. Her thumbs found the elastic of her panties and teased them lower. “As much as you love these panties, I think it’s time for them to go.”
He swallowed. “I’m all for that.”
She inched the panties ever lower. “But fair’s fair. If I take something off, you have to, too.”
“No problem.”
Jack unzipped his jeans, his penis springing forward against his white cotton briefs as he slid the jeans down his legs. Bridget stared at the bulge at his crotch, then lifted her eyes to his as she pushed her panties from her hips and let them fall to the floor.
Though he desperately wanted to touch her, he forced himself to wait. For all her bravado, he knew he needed to go slow, no matter how much it killed him. A part of him wanted to throw Bridget onto the bed and sink himself into her, pumping harder, faster, deeper until they both flew to pieces. But as satisfying as that might be for him, it wasn’t what he wanted for their first time together in twenty years.
He took a ragged breath. Their first time. Again. After all these years.
He contented himself by exploring her with his eyes. He estimated he could span her small waist with his two hands, and his palms itched to test his theory. From her narrow waist her hips flared, giving her generous curves for one so slender. Her legs went on forever. Long, slim and shapely, he’d dreamed about those legs wrapped around him and holding him tight. A moan escaped from his lips as he fought for control. How embarrassing would it be to come in his underwear like a randy fourteen-year-old?
Bridget stepped toward him, sliding her warm hands under his T-shirt once more. She ran her hands over his sides, her light touch scorching his skin. She caught the bottom of his shirt between her fingers and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor.
She kissed his chest. “You’re beautiful, Jack. I dreamed about you too.”
He tipped her chin to look into her face and saw that tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. He kissed each eye in turn.
“No tears, sweetheart. Not tonight.”
She smiled up at him, placing her hand on his cheek and caressing the tender skin beneath his eye with her thumb.
“No. No tears tonight.”
He kissed her then, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking, biting. Her restless hands explored his shoulders and back with demanding caresses. She pressed her hips against his, and he ground himself into her, placing his hand against her buttocks and holding her firm. He felt himself going under, losing control. He couldn’t wait much longer...
“Please, Jack,” she begged, kissing his neck. She found his mouth and plundered it with her tongue. “Please, Jack, now.”
He lifted her in his arms and placed her on the bed. She sat up and reached her hands behind her back to unhook her bra. Her breasts spilled forward, the nipples taut and dusky, begging to be suckled. He stripped off his briefs, then reached into his night table with trembling hands to sheath himself with a condom. At last he joined her on the bed, straddling her and pushing her back against the pillows.
“I’m warning you,” he growled, “this could be very quick.”
“I don’t care.” She writhed beneath him, testing his already tenuous control. “I just want you.”
As much as his body screamed for release, he vowed to bring her to climax first. He lowered his mouth to her breast and suckled, at the same time spreading her delicate folds and massaging the sensitive nub beneath with his fingers. In a moment she arched her back and cried out her release. Jack muffled her cries, covering her mouth with his, plunging his tongue inside her mouth with half-crazed thrusts. She spasmed around his fingers over and over again, writhing and twisting on the bed.
“Please, Jack, please come inside me now.”
He needed no further invitation. He spread her legs and lowered himself to her, his penis touching the opening to her body. She wrapped her long legs around him, forcing him hard against her.
“Now! Please!” she demanded.
He slipped easily inside her and watched her eyes go wide, then close again as she arched her back once more.
“I need you, Jack.”
Her legs tightened around him, forcing him ever deeper. His thrusts picked up momentum, but still he held back, not wanting to hurt or frighten her. She opened her eyes and stared directly into his, her hands clutching his shoulders.
“I want all of you. Please!”
Something inside him came unglued at her words. He pounded into her, plunging deep inside her body. She matched every thrust, raising her hips to meet each one. The last shred of his control vanished. He could only push harder and harder, helpless against the needs of his body.
His orgasm started in his legs, moving up his body and culminating in an explosive release. He heard Bridget cry out and felt her body shudder as she climaxed once more. He collapsed on top of her, completely sated and unable to move.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him for what seemed like hours. The sensation of being held in her arms, his body still inside hers, was pure bliss. He never wanted to leave.
But at last she shifted and he knew he must be crushing her. He rolled to one side and pulled her against him, capturing her hand and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. Words failed him. What they’d just experienced had been so profound, so earthshaking, words seemed inadequate.
At least it had been for him. He searched her face for clues she felt the same way. She smiled at him. A good sign, but was it enough?
“Stay.” He hoped she couldn’t hear the pleading in his voice.
She hesitated before smiling once more. “All right. For awhile.”
He made a quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then slid into the bed beside her, pulling her close and covering them both with the blanket. She spooned against him, her back against his chest. He put his arm around her, his hand cupping her breast. He felt her sigh,
and then her body went limp. A moment later her rhythmic breathing told him she’d fallen asleep.
He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the floral fragrance of her shampoo. Would what they had here, in his bed, be enough to make her stay? Or would she leave him the way him she had before?
He wouldn’t think about it. This thing between them, whatever it was, had to stay on a strictly physical level.
* * *
Bridget woke slowly, feeling disoriented, and for a moment she couldn’t place where she was. Then she felt the weight of an arm wrapped securely around her waist and memory flooded back. Last night with Jack had been amazing. She smiled to herself as she snuggled deeper into the blankets, feeling warm and happy and safe.
But as much as she may want to, she couldn’t stay the night. The clock on Jack’s bedside table read 1:01 a.m. Time for Cinderella to leave the ball and go home.
She carefully lifted Jack’s arm and quietly slid out of the bed. The air was cold against her naked skin and she shivered as she tried to find her clothes in the dark. Searching the floor on her hands and knees, she located her jeans, blouse and panties, but couldn’t find her bra. Next time she would put her clothes in a neat pile so she could easily find them in the dark.
Next time? Would there be a next time? Did she want a next time?
The thought brought her up short and she banged her head against the bed frame.
“Ouch!”
A lamp switched on, illuminating the bedroom in a soft glow.
“Bridget, what are you doing on the floor?”
Jack’s voice sounded rusty and full of sleep. She fought the urge to crawl back into bed with him and hold him till he went to sleep again.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” she whispered. “I’m trying to find my clothes.”
He propped himself on one elbow and grinned down at her. He pointed toward his dresser. “I believe your bra is over there.”
She followed his gaze to the large dresser with a double mirror. Her bra was suspended on the corner of the mirror by one of its straps.
“No wonder I couldn’t find it.”
She got to her feet and retrieved her wandering bra, quickly slipping it on.
First and Again Page 17
