“It’s not a big deal. I hadn’t thought about upsetting her.”
“Why don’t you try again, overhand this time.” He showed her how to hold her arm and tried to coach her when to release, but the ball landed about two feet in front of them. He brushed the snow off his hands and pulled her into his arms. “You’re right. Your aim is terrible.”
“There’s a reason I didn’t take up softball. You, on the other hand, seem athletic.” Emboldened, she wrapped her fingers around his biceps and gave a gentle squeeze. “And strong.”
He wanted to show off. “Let’s see if I can knock the pinecone off the house without destroying the whole thing.” He did. On the second try.
“Impressive.”
“I try to keep fit. After seeing how easily you lifted Eloise over the summer, my ego demands that I keep pace.” He tilted his head.
“Ugh. If it looked easy, it’s only because I iced up my ribs beforehand and the whole time I reminded myself that I still had two Percocet tablets.”
• • •
The grimace on his face reminded Penelope that Carson was a doctor and probably not one to approve of the casual use of painkillers. The kitchen timer beeped. He excused himself to the kitchen, but she could see his troubled expression. She walked back to the counter and sat down again.
She took a deep breath. She wanted to tell him everything — her fears, her dreams, and especially that she understood loneliness. She also wanted to tell him she would be his rebound girl of sorts, even if the two of them had no future. She’d start small.
“When my flying harness broke during a performance back on June third, I ended up with broken ribs, a lacerated liver and a lot of pain.”
“What was your treatment? Are you okay?”
She assumed he asked from a professional standpoint since neither his voice nor face displayed concern.
“Now I am. I don’t like rehashing the pain now that I’ve healed. I still have those same two Percocet tablets, by the way. I suffered through a lecture from my physical therapist instead of taking the pills. He was pretty annoyed with me, but I couldn’t help myself.” She paused. “You’ll have fun repairing the fairy house with Eloise. She has such a joyful spirit.”
His expression softened. “Yes, she does.”
“She inspires me. I know it sounds strange that a child could make you want to be better person, but I’m a performer. I’d never considered anything else. But teaching Eloise and the other girls has been more fun than I ever imagined. On stage, the audience rewarded me with applause at all the appropriate moments. The girls give me so much more. Their laughter, their energy, even their frustration and social relationships are fascinating, complex, and changing, creating rhythms and movement I never knew existed. If I didn’t need to eat, I’d teach them for free. When my career is over, I hope to return to teaching. Sorry, I’m babbling.”
The words rushed out of her mouth before she gave them much thought. She blamed the wine and her growling stomach, but knew it was really her nerves, wanting to seem worthy of the man standing by the stove.
“No, you’re not. You’re passionate about what you do.”
The intensity in his gaze warmed her. “I do tend to throw myself in wholeheartedly.”
She hoped she wouldn’t get her heart hurt by a man incapable of offering himself fully to her. She had enough of that. She would never forget the shame of learning her last lover had a wife back in England that he neglected to mention until the wife showed up on tour to surprise him. That was three years ago. She stayed away from relationships since then because she wanted to avoid heartbreak. No one seemed worth the risk — until now. Unfortunately, come January, when she left town to resume work, her heart would hurt for Carson. She began to second guess her decision to stay tonight.
He crossed the room and cupped her face in his hands. His gray eyes darkened to storm clouds, but not in an angry way. They were like the longed for clouds moving in to break a lengthy dry spell. His touch was just as welcome, his fingers warm as he looked at her. He gazed at her so intently, her toes curled.
“That’s one of the many things I admire about you.”
He pressed his lips against hers, gently at first, then deepening. She gasped. Her mind grew dizzy but in the whirling she knew with absolute certainty that staying for dinner was a very good idea. She placed the glass on the countertop, wanting her hands free to touch the nape of his neck, and trace the line of his square jaw as they enjoyed each other’s mouths. But all too soon he pulled away.
“Dinner’s ready.”
He pulled her to a standing position, holding her hand as he guided her to the dining room. The large table was set for two, complete with a basket of dark bread and glasses of water. He pulled out her chair before lighting the candles.
“You thought of everything.”
“Not quite. I’ll be right back.”
He’d created an intimate mood with the candles. Various glassware and mirrors reflected their flickering glow, adding to the room’s beauty. She imagined Carson and Catherine eating here night after night, her beautiful glossy brown hair loose around her shoulders and dressed in elegant clothes. She was going to develop an inferiority complex if she continued to compare herself to the popular, beautiful, privileged Catherine. She couldn’t compete with a memory, but could enjoy herself in the here and now. For one night, he wanted to share himself with her. She wanted to help ease his loneliness, even if hers would ultimately increase once she left town. She played with her necklace, absentmindedly, as she tried to avoid thinking about the future.
He returned with two steaming servings of Coq au Vin and the bottle of wine tucked under his arm.
“I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
With the good food and easy flow of conversation, she couldn’t remember when she last enjoyed herself so much on a date, even if this wasn’t exactly a date. Their conversation began with the neutral territory on which they both considered themselves experts — dining out. But then he charmed her with tales of childhood mischief and how he decided to become a doctor, even though as a kid he was absolutely certain he would pilot a space plane.
Not that she knew Catherine or her family very well, but she couldn’t imagine this Carson enjoying a family dinner with the serious minded Patterson family. Johnny invited her to dinner there one night; she suspected it was part of his rebellious phase. The conversation focused on achievement, grades received, prizes won and college plans. Far too stilted for her liking. Talking with Carson tonight was so easy. They lingered at the table long after they finished their meal.
She stretched her back as he topped off her wine glass, aware of the length of time they’d been sitting. The room was beautiful, but the chairs were not designed for the human body.
“We’d probably be more comfortable in the living room.” He stood, extending his hand. She didn’t need it, but accepted it, enjoying his old-school manners. They blew out the candles together and carried their glasses to the living room. He placed his free hand on her lower back. She loved how his fingers splayed, maximizing the space they covered as he guided her to the room she was growing to know so well.
“I’ll start a fire. It’s not a real one.”
She laughed nervously. “Don’t tell me you use a video fireplace when you have the real thing right here.”
He flipped a switch by the mantel. “It’s gas. I miss the sizzle and pop of a real wood fireplace. Catherine thought they … ” He pressed a hand to his forehead before looking at her guiltily. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she soothed as she reached out to touch his arm. “You two shared a life together.”
She wondered if he would ever be ready to move on. He might not fit into her immediate future, but she’d grown to care about him and his daughter. And
he smelled so good and he cooked and he had that dimple. Maybe her gift to him would be to help him take the next step. To remind him that he didn’t have to do everything alone. Be alone. Maybe she could help him open his heart so when a woman with more to offer came along, he’d be ready for her.
• • •
“Thanks for … ”
He couldn’t finish his thought without once again stupidly mentioning his past and he had already mentioned her name too many times tonight. He turned his head, blinking in wonder at the beautiful creature standing beside him. Part of him wanted to spill his guts to her, tell her things he’d never revealed to anyone. Part of him wanted to kiss her, touch her bare skin, and hear her moan with pleasure knowing he, not a slice of cheesecake, caused that sound. Those two forces battled a third in his mind, the one that told him to back away and not take any chances. That last part was losing.
“Do you have any music?”
Startled out of his thoughts, he shook his head. “What?”
She chuckled. “Do you have any music?”
“In the armoire.” He gestured toward the stereo. “Eloise has taken over the music, but there are some grown up choices in the back.”
She swayed her hips to inaudible music as she pulled one out with a flourish. “Norah Jones. Perfect!”
She slipped the CD in and pressed play. “Dance with me?”
He reached for her outstretched hands, unable to resist her invitation. She pulled him closer. When she moved one hand to his shoulder and the other to his side, he responded, happily wrapping his arm around the small of her back and confessing, “I’ve never danced with a professional before. I’m probably not up to your standards.”
“You’re holding me right and swaying in tempo. We fit together nicely. I’m here to follow your lead.”
She arched her eyebrows suggestively. He understood she meant more than dancing.
They moved in comfortable silence, the fireplace casting a warm glow. Her fingers traced his face, coming to rest on his chest. His heart jumped in his chest, as if as eager to be touched by her as the rest of him was. He took a sharp intake of breath as she nuzzled her forehead against his neck. His groin responded, tightening. He moved his hand to the soft curls along her nape.
“Penelope,” he rumbled, “what are you doing to me?” He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until she broke rhythm, squaring herself as she moved her hands to his shoulders and lifted her face.
“Whatever you’d like.”
Chapter 6
Heat darkened Penelope’s blue eyes and he could no longer restrain his need for her. He cradled her face, sucking in a deep breath before greedily taking her mouth with his. She welcomed him with soft, yielding lips. Their kisses grew more frantic. Their fingers explored each other’s faces. He lowered his hands, caressing her neck and back, and resting on her rounded derrière. She traced his jaw line with her fingertip then continued down his neck, creeping under his shirt collar with the lightest touch. She pulled back. The hunger in her face matched his own.
He groaned, “I want you, all of you.”
Smiling seductively, she purred. “Then have me.”
She stepped back, extending her arms. They were too far apart even though they still touched. He turned both of them around and collapsed on the couch, pulling her on top. She moved to straddle him as he began covering her neck with kisses before turning his attention to her full mouth.
He deftly untied her wrap-around cardigan without ever breaking the rhythm of his kisses. She shrugged out of it, barely losing contact with his body. He sensed she wanted this closeness as much as he did.
His fingers discovered a sliver of skin between the hem of her shirt and the top of her low-slung trousers. He ran his hands underneath, loving how she arched her back responsively to his touch. His fingers traced muscle, soft skin, and an irritating bra band that had to go. He fumbled.
She leaned back, amused at his furrowed brow. He stopped, sliding his hands to her waist. “You make me feel like a horny teenager. Not only are we making out on the couch, but I’m flustered and excited and I can’t figure out your bra.”
Just when he thought he couldn’t want her more, she coyly touched the tip of her tongue to her lips before laughing and sliding his hands up her stomach and toward her breasts.
“That’s because it’s a front clasp.” She gasped as his hands cupped her breasts, moaning as his thumbs rubbed the satin of her bra over her already hardened nipples. Closing her eyes, she arched back, responding to his caresses. She whispered his name in a husky puff.
“I want to see you, Penelope.”
Crossing her arms, she grabbed the hem of her shirt, but he stopped her with a single hand, gesturing toward the window with its sheer curtains. He’d already given the neighbors too much of a show and didn’t want to share her with anyone. He closed the heavy draperies, never once taking his eyes off her. He liked ethereal quality the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree gave her. He feared if they left this room now, he’d wake from this dream. He wanted it to last as long as possible.
She grabbed a blanket from the end of the couch and spread it in front of the fireplace, making him certain she’d read his mind. He couldn’t believe his luck that she’d given him a second chance after last week. He didn’t deserve it. He hoped he wasn’t grinning like an idiot. With a twinkle in her eye, she pulled off her t-shirt.
He covered the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His hands rested on her shoulders and then slid them down the valley between her breasts until his finger rested on the clasp of her pale pink bra. Her eyes issued an invitation and he struggled to retain some sense of control. He kissed the exposed skin at the top of her breasts and reveled in her laugh as his tongue traced the path of his fingers. He peeked at her before flicking open the clasp and revealing her rosy nipples.
• • •
Penelope’s body tensed with anticipation of pleasure as heat flowed toward her most womanly parts. She grew lightheaded as he teased her nipples first with his thumbs and then with his mouth. She held on to him to keep her balance, wondering if she could stand any more pleasure, but hoping for the chance to find out. She found herself irritated that she couldn’t touch his bare skin.
She tugged at his shirt. Reluctantly, he stopped caressing her breasts. They worked together to undo his buttons, covering each other with soft kisses at every opportunity. She didn’t want their kisses to end. She’d never been kissed with such a mix of tenderness and need. She’d be spoiled forever.
Soon they sank to the floor, naked and hungry. Arms and legs intertwined as their mouths sampled each other’s flesh.
He drew back. Scowling, she used her strong legs to try to keep him close.
“Patience, my little imp.” He gave her a light kiss on the cheek then turned away. During the unwelcome pause, she admired his muscles in the firelight as he reached for something. Relief swept through her when light reflected off a square foil packet. She liked that he was prepared. It meant he’d thought about her during the week. Goodness knows, she’d spent plenty of time wondering about him.
She sat up, intending to help with the condom, but he guided her back to the floor, moving his hand between her legs as he kissed her breasts. He easily found her pleasure center, stroking and teasing with his fingers until waves of pleasure lapped at her.
Taking a break to look in her eyes, he murmured, “You are so beautiful and soft and delicious,” before nibbling her earlobes and kissing her neck. His fingers returned to her sex, gently caressing. Her breathing became ragged and she panted his name as she gave herself fully to the pleasure now rippling through her body.
She pressed her forehead against his, her words uneven, barely above a whisper. She hoped he’d obey. Her body was ready. So was his. “Inside me, now.”
With
a devilish flash of his dimple, he complied, thrusting himself inside her. She squeaked and he paused.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned.
Her curls bobbed against her cheek as she nodded. “Yes.” She gave him a lusty smile. “Good. You feel incredible.”
She writhed her body against him, urging him to continue. He pressed back. “So do you.”
Her hips rose to meet him again and again, creating a dance as rhythmic and seductive as earlier this evening. All too soon, his body tensed and burst with pleasurable relief. He collapsed on top of her, nuzzling her neck. She tenderly touched his hair, instinctively sensing he needed the quiet as they recovered.
After a few minutes, he rolled to his side, for which she was grateful. He was pleasingly muscular, and solidly built, but his body weighed heavily on her ribs. “Sorry, I … ”
She stirred, softly touching her finger to his lips. “Don’t apologize. That was wonderful.”
“But I. … Your ribs … ” She pressed her finger harder, stopping the words from forming. She didn’t want him apologizing for anything, even for crushing her.
She feared he would regret inviting her to stay. She’d been so eager to satisfy him, especially after his fingers alone brought her to orgasm. His body, still shimmering with perspiration, responded appropriately to hers, but perhaps she disappointed him sexually. Or maybe he wanted her to leave immediately. She hoped those words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. She could lie beside him forever.
Forever was easy to believe in the post-coital glow, even if the idea of having anyone or anything “forever” frightened her. It was a silly idea, impossible in so many ways.
For now, she wanted to bask in the illusion that she belonged with him. All too soon, she would get dressed, drive home to her empty apartment, and climb into her empty bed. Until then, she’d absorb every detail she could, the musky smell of their romp, the feel of the soft blanket against her back, the flickering of firelight on his muscular torso, the way his gray eyes darkened with desire.
Tidings of Love Page 44
