by Sandra Kitt
She’d only gotten about three hours of sleep, but there was no chance of her going back to bed now. She walked through her living room and spotted her yearbook on the rocker seat. She was taken aback. Her yearbook?
Jean picked it up and sat down in the chair, wondering what he’d seen, what he might have been looking for. She flipped through the pages, and it automatically opened to the portrait page that held her image. There was a torn piece of paper with text that looked like part of some internal notice from the station, marking the page. Jean turned it over. It contained a brief message. A—followed by a rough outline of lips forming a kiss, followed by—for you.
A (kiss) for you.
Chapter 8
Okay…I need someone to volunteer to stay a few extra hours today. I know it’s Friday, but the deputy mayor is doing a stand-in for the mayor for a last-minute meeting at police headquarters. We work at the pleasure of the mayor. Jean, I know I can count on you.”
Brad Clark was about to move on to the next item on his must-do list.
“I can’t.”
He turned back to Jean, genuinely surprised. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I know this meeting is last minute and things happen. I’m sorry, but I have confirmed plans for tonight. I have to get home.”
“If it’s for a hot date, it won’t count.”
“I’m having dinner with my father. He’s in from out of town.”
Brad sighed dramatically. “You’re forgiven.”
There was mild laughter among the half dozen other staffers, but someone else did speak up to accept the last-minute assignment. It had been a particularly difficult day that included an unexpected demonstration outside city hall and a fight breaking out between two opposing factions of the demonstration. Crowds, traffic, and madness ensued, and a dozen or more police officers were needed to restore order. It was only in the last few hours that the situation had been dealt with and things were pretty much back to normal.
Jean had her own last-minute surprise developments to deal with. Her father was coming into the city and wanted to take her to dinner. They had not spent any time together since the previous March, when she’d flown out to LA for his birthday. That had been special because it had been just the two of them. No sharing of Seth Travis’s time with a current girlfriend or important last-minute work.
When she’d gotten the voicemail earlier that day, she’d hoped it was Patrick. His business trip out west had gone on for three days, two days longer than he’d expected, and now he wasn’t sure what his schedule was going to be like once he got back. But they had exchanged a few text messages, and Patrick had called twice.
She also didn’t want to admit that she had been rattled once when, catching a brief sports update on the news, there was a video clip showing Patrick being interviewed before the start of a game somewhere, standing with a pretty brunette sports reporter. She shared with the audience that she and Patrick used to work together…and it had been an exciting, fun working relationship.
Jean wondered how close a working relationship. But also was not sure if she and Patrick had now known each other long enough for it to count as a relationship. What was it now? What did she want?
Her cell phone toned, and she answered on the first chords.
“Hey, Daddy.”
“It’s me.”
“Mom. Hi. Sorry about that.”
“Have you heard from your father?”
“Yeah. He contacted me that he was coming into the city. We’re supposed to have dinner tonight. But it’s getting late and I haven’t heard from him.”
“I was calling to tell you he might be in the city.”
“You knew that? How come?”
“Your father and I do keep in touch, Jean. We’ve always been on good terms.”
“Because of me.”
“Well, of course. That’s part of it. I don’t have much else to say. I just wondered if you’d heard from him.”
“Any reason? What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Jean. Have a nice dinner with your father. We’ll catch up soon.”
Her father had not said exactly when he would arrive or where they might go for dinner. Jean knew he was just as likely to call and have her meet him somewhere…or be late. But by seven thirty, she had still not heard from him, and he wasn’t responding to her texts. She was more concerned than annoyed. Two hours later, she was vegging in front of a news magazine program, ready to bag the idea of dinner, ready to go to bed, when her intercom buzzed. The front desk announced a visitor.
“Tell him I’ll come down.”
“He says he wants to come up.”
“Fine. Send him up.”
Perhaps this was better. She and her father could have a chat for a little while, and she might persuade him to forget dinner. She no longer wanted to go out.
Jean was ready with a tart but amusing greeting for her dad when the bell rang and she opened the door.
Patrick stood on the other side.
He had luggage and looked like a weary traveler. Jean’s mouth fell open, and she stared as if he was an apparition. And her stomach roiled.
“Maybe I should have called first?” he said with a charming but hesitant smile. His smartphone was in his hand.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” Jean breathed out, her gaze locked on his.
He looked exhausted.
Patrick stepped into the doorframe. Jean took a step back, unable to find her voice.
“I should have made a reservation,” he joked weakly. “Is there room at the inn?”
Jean’s brief laugh sounded strangled, even to herself.
“I…I…” She shook her head, bewildered.
His smile began to fade. “Bad move. No problem. My car is still waiting out front…” He began pressing buttons.
“No, no. You don’t have to do that. Come on in.”
Jean moved, giving Patrick space to enter. But he continued to stand and stare at her, judging if she was sincere.
Jean blinked, clearing her head. “It’s okay, Patrick. I’m sorry I seem so…so…”
“Surprised? That’s what I was hoping for. But maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”
Jean’s shock was wearing off, to be replaced with a heady rush of joy. That Patrick was here rather than there, or anywhere else, was enough.
“Cancel your car,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
Oh my god…Daddy!
Jean’s mind whirled through a number of ways the evening could end. She quickly picked the one she most wanted.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Patrick connected to a number on his phone. “You can go. I won’t be needing you.”
There was a leather mailbag tote over one shoulder and a small wheelie case at his side. Jean took the roller from him and pulled it inside. He followed, closing the door.
They faced each other, certainly not as strangers. The moment was so spontaneous that there was no time even to think what to do. His very presence sparked anticipation in Jean. There was an eerie quiet, the air charged around them.
“I didn’t expect to be gone almost half the week.”
“You were on assignment.”
“By Tuesday all I wanted was to be back here. With you. Here.”
The declaration took her breath away.
“Really? Why?” she asked.
He looked puzzled. “Haven’t you noticed I’ve been plotting and scheming like crazy to get us together every chance I could? I wanted to spend more time with you.”
“Well…to be honest I wasn’t exactly sure what your intentions were.”
“No?”
“I mean, after that first meeting everything just sort of…kept going, and then…”
“Where did you think it was head
ed?” Patrick asked.
Jean met his gaze and blinked. “We seemed to be coming together. You know. Like when we were in high school. Except for…”
“Except for the hot, crazy kissing and holding each other. No, Jean. That was not the path to friendship. We were already friends. I’d hoped it was the path to something much more. Something new. Better.” He took a small step closer, holding her gaze. “The night we got caught in the rain and came back here couldn’t have been more perfect. I was hoping… Then I got that message and had to leave early. I’m pretty sure you were feeling the same thing about the two of us. Am I wrong?”
The question was not plaintive but needed a definitive answer.
“No,” she said almost in a whisper. “I’ve been waiting to see if you noticed that this is not like when we were in high school. I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“Still a little afraid of me?”
Jean shook her head. “I was never afraid of you.”
Patrick let the mailbag slide from his shoulder. It landed on the floor with a thud. They both moved at the same time and, in one smooth stride, walked into one another’s arms, their lips meeting and locking with an erotic intensity that forced their bodies together.
Jean could feel that, finally, there was nothing cautious or tentative about their actions. This was exactly what they’d both been wanting, and they were now of the same mindset. Their youthful history notwithstanding, the time was finally right to move past it. She was more than ready.
Their embrace was quickly infused with an urgency that made their breathing heated and heavy. The only other sounds were the quiet, moist meshing of their lips and tongue, of one low, broken whimper from Jean. It was not a sound of desperation, but surrender. She never thought to have this moment…any moment…with Patrick. His hand low on her back held her while he pressed his hips against her, his desire hard and obvious. He suddenly stood still, breaking the kiss, his slumberous gaze searching hers.
“Maybe I’m rushing this…”
Jean put her hand over his mouth, silencing him.
“It’s been years, Patrick. That’s not rushing. You never tried to kiss me when I was sixteen. You never handed me some lame line or made promises or played me. But I did wonder what it would be like if you kissed me…”
“I can do that,” he murmured, bending toward her.
Jean knew that Patrick could not make up for lost time, but this was so much better because they had been forced by circumstances to wait. Things happen when they’re supposed to happen. He pulled her back against his chest and picked up where they’d left off. The feel of Patrick, the taste of him, was intoxicating.
Patrick deftly braced one foot against the other to get his shoes off. Jean was already barefoot. She pulled down the side zipper on her black knit pants. Then she went to work finding the hem of his polo shirt and standing on tiptoe to pull it over his head. He had to bend to help her. Jean tossed it on her club chair. Patrick assisted the striptease by sliding his hands inside the waistband of her underwear and pants and pushing them down Jean’s hips and thighs. She kicked her way out of the legs, standing momentarily bare from the waist down. She peeled off her silk print top and made swift work of removing her bra.
The removal of the rest of Patrick’s clothing was quick and efficient. They allowed themselves to stare and study and appreciate the effect of standing naked before each other. Patrick was in full erection. Jean’s breasts were small but sweetly perky and round. The nipples were engorged and stiff. Patrick shook his head, a bemused smile growing on his lips, silently taking in her beauty, unfettered and, yes, exotic. Her skin had a tawny, pale bronze glow. Jean’s hair was mussed and wild around her face, falling into her eyes. He reached out to gently brush back the wavy strands from her face, his gaze settling for a moment on her full lips, parted and moist. They were beyond being coy about their need.
Jean took his hand and walked backward, carefully maneuvering around the love seat and into her bedroom. She hastily pulled the coverlet from the bed before sitting on the edge and scooting into the middle. She lay back wanton and open, her breathing causing her breasts to rise and fall. She raised a bent knee in an unconscious centerfold pose. She patiently waited while Patrick thoughtfully prepared himself before climbing next to her, immediately lying half over Jean as he began to kiss her again, deeply and with slow, thorough intent, until she appeared languid, the desire pooling between her legs. There was a roiling, spiraling buildup of tension in her body. She waited for Patrick to ease it away.
The room had only a bedside lamp turned on, allowing for them to watch each other’s expression, the caressing of their hands, exploring of warm fingers in sensitive, tender places. Patrick watched with fascination the slight blush to Jean’s cheeks and the warm glow of her skin.
Patrick’s mouth held Jean totally captive until he knew she was so ready she might come just from his slow touch. But it was just a warm-up for what Patrick had in mind. While controlling her mouth with his, he shifted his body to the side, leaving Jean on her back, the length of her body exposed. Patrick let his hand gently massage a breast, rubbing the dusky nipple with the pad of his thumb. She broke the kiss to gasp, to moan quietly. But he didn’t allow her a break, taking her mouth again, his tongue playing erotically with hers.
Patrick drew back to stare into Jean’s face. Her hair fanned out like a lion’s mane, her lips even fuller from his kisses. Her eyes were drowsy and sparkling with passion. Jean laid her hand along his cheek, brushed her fingers over his hard chest where the flat layer of hair felt like silk.
“Okay?” he whispered, his breath feathery and warm against her lips.
Her eyes drifted closed and she nodded.
Patrick lifted his body enough to move into position over hers. The weight of his chest and stomach melded them together, and Jean lifted her knees to make room for him to press even closer. His entry and Jean’s maneuvering to meet him was exactly as nature intended. And as he’d always imagined. He held his breath and closed his eyes, savoring the moment.
Jean suddenly contracted her muscles, and he almost lost control as she tightened around his penis. Patrick grunted and gritted his teeth, willing himself not to give in to the sweet release he knew awaited. He moved slowly until they found the rhythm to rock and gyrate together smoothly. His hands gripped Jean’s hips to hold her as he withdrew and advanced to her breathing. Finally, there was no help for the urgency that was building, no point in the continued heavenly torture until she drew in air…and held it. Her back arched, and Jean let it out in a long, sustained groan that ended in a soft sigh as she came, pulsing her release around him for long moments.
With heartfelt relief, Patrick let himself push a little deeper into her until the delicious agony of his own climax consumed him. Jean wrapped her arms around his back and held him close until the ride ended. He couldn’t move, knew he was like dead weight on top of her. But she ran her hands through his disheveled hair, planting little kisses on his face, his shoulders.
Patrick smiled. The fantasy of what it would be like to be with Jean, like this, seemed too good to be true. It was a good thing that liking her so much, and his own overwhelming sense of what was the right thing to do, kept him from putting the moves on her in high school. It was a good thing she never seemed to show much interest in him beyond their study time together. It was more than amazing that Jean did now.
Patrick slowly withdrew from her, wincing as the last bit of pleasure was squeezed from him. He lay on his side and pulled her against him, kissing her forehead and smoothing her damp hair from her face.
“Wow,” he croaked. “Who knew?”
He loved that she burrowed her mouth and nose against his chest. He could feel Jean smile against his skin.
Thank goodness that fate saw fit to bring them together again, maybe finally fulfilling some sort of unlikely destiny.
* * *
The phone was on silent, but it was the repetitive wuzzz of the cell phone that awakened Jean. She carefully fumbled on the nightstand until she located the device. There was no chance of slipping out of bed. Patrick’s breathing signaled that he was sound asleep, but he was spooned closely behind her. He didn’t move when she answered, trying to keep her voice quiet and low.
“Hello?”
“Honey, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you? Of course you went to bed. I guess you gave up waiting for me.”
“It’s okay, Daddy,” she tried to whisper.
Jean knew her father especially loved when she still called him Daddy.
“Are you all right? I got really worried when I didn’t hear from you.”
“Well…” Seth Travis chuckled. “I’m here on business on someone else’s dime. First, I got in late. I missed my scheduled connection out of Chicago. Then there was a screwup with my hotel. I was about to give up and make my own plans when they found me a room. A suite, actually. I did try to call. You weren’t answering. I figured you got busy…”
Jean felt Patrick’s rhythmic breathing against her neck, but he didn’t awaken.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t plugged in. Sometimes I forget.”
“Do you think we can still get together this weekend? I hate to come this far and not see you.”
“Sure. When?” Jean asked.
“How about Sunday for brunch? Then I can head right out to the airport.”
“Okay, where?”
“You can meet me at my hotel. Or I can come out to Brooklyn. I remember there are a couple of nice places near you. What would you like?”
“Daddy, can we talk…tomorrow night?” Jean whispered.
“Good idea. Again, sorry about tonight. Looking forward to seeing you, Jeannie. Love you, honey.”
“You too, Daddy. Night.”
The phone was suddenly taken from her hand and simply placed on the nightstand by Patrick.
“That was my father,” Jean informed him.
“I got that. I take it you had plans with him before I arrived?”
