“Are you having a good time?” It was difficult to hear him over the din of the crowd and the music, even though his lips were right against her ear.
“I’m having the best time,” she assured him. She snuggled closer, loving the feel of his hard, hot body against hers. Mike banded his arm around her waist and whirled her in a fast spin, making her laugh.
She really was having the best time ever. In fact, the last two weeks had been the happiest of her entire thirty years. Mike had helped her uncover her true self—a woman who was passionate about love and life.
Annabelle didn’t want the music to ever end, but eventually the band announced they were taking a fifteen-minute break. She glanced at her watch and was startled to realize that she and Mike had been dancing for nearly forty minutes straight.
Mike kept his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her from the dance floor. He led her to the shadow of a large oak tree not far from the bandstand and stole a quick kiss. “Would you like something to drink? A beer? Some lemonade?”
She looked up into his warm brown eyes, so full of life and caring. “I’d love some lemonade.” Her head was already spinning without adding alcohol to the mix.
“Wait here and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Annabelle watched him disappear into the crowd. Even wearing jeans and a plain T-shirt, he stood out among them. There was something about him that drew the eye, or maybe it was just her eye.
She grinned and studied the people milling about, laughing and talking, as they waited for the band to begin again. She drew back further into the shadows as the group of women who had been giving her the evil eye walked by. They hadn’t noticed her, and she didn’t want to draw their attention her way.
“Who does she think she is keeping her claws dug into Mike all night? It’s obvious he’s too polite to break away from her.” The tall blonde tossed her hair over her shoulder as she spoke.
“It must be a charity date or something,” a pretty brunette responded.
“There’s no way he’s interested in a dowdy creature like her when he could have one of us.” A stunning woman with short black hair and a figure any woman would envy uttered this last statement.
Annabelle stood frozen in place as they continued on past her. She had hidden so well, they hadn’t seen her. The food that had tasted so delicious earlier now churned in her stomach. A wave of humiliation washed over her as she realized what people were saying about her and Mike. And even if some of them were too nice to say it they must surely be thinking it or something similar.
“Here’s your drink, honey.”
Annabelle automatically took the frosty cold beverage from Mike, but her hand was shaking so badly the lemonade began to spill from the cup. He quickly took it back from her.
“What’s wrong?” Mike set their drinks on the ground and then tilted Annabelle’s face up so he could see it in the glow from the lights.
“We are.” Her statement was stark and to the point. Mike jerked in shock and his hand fell away from her face.
“What the hell do you mean?” He scowled at her, his entire body rigid. It was a far cry from the relaxed, happy man from a moment ago.
“People are talking about us. They don’t know what you see in me at all or why you’re here with me. Sometimes I’m not sure why you are either.” Annabelle waited, hoping he would reassure her. She needed it after what those women had said. She waited. And waited.
Mike closed his eyes and stayed silent, and she felt her heart begin to crack. When he finally opened his eyes, Annabelle almost wished he hadn’t. Pain. There was nothing but pain in those beautiful, expressive eyes. When he finally spoke, his words thrust like daggers.
“I’ve told you how I feel about you, Annabelle. I’ve shown you in every way a man can that I care.” He stepped away from her when she held out her hand to touch him. They were only a foot apart but it felt more like a mile.
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He looked defeated and sad. Annabelle thought her heart might be breaking.
“You care more about what complete strangers might say about us than what I say about us. If that’s how you really feel, I’ll leave you in peace.” Mike stared at her as if waiting for her to speak. Annabelle was tongue-tied, wanting to say so much, but not quite knowing how. Caught up in her own torment, she took too long to respond.
“I guess that’s my answer.” Mike started to leave, but turned back at the last second. “I love you, Annabelle. I just wished you could love me, trust me.” Then he was gone.
“Don’t let him go.”
Annabelle jumped and whirled around to find Mr. Keats, the library handyman, standing behind her. His weathered face was sad as he leaned on a cane for support.
“I’ve known that boy his whole life and he’s in love with you.” His kindly gaze took in the torment on Annabelle’s face. “And I think you love him too.”
“Oh, I do and I’ve hurt him so much.” Mike was right. She’d listened to the poisonous words of a few jealous women, allowing it to overshadow everything he’d said and done since the first night they’d spent together.
“Then tell him,” Mr. Keats advised, “before it’s too late.”
Annabelle finally understood that she’d allowed her own insecurities to hurt not only her but also Mike. He had given her nothing but respect and love and what had she done? She’d tossed it back at him. And she’d done it in public. If Harold Keats had overheard them, chances were a few other people had as well.
She’d ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her, but maybe it wasn’t too late. She had to stop him.
Annabelle didn’t give herself time to think about the consequences of her action. She didn’t stop to think about the fact she was about to publically embarrass herself. She, who feared being the subject of gossip, was about to throw herself into the spotlight.
Nothing mattered to her more than Mike. She’d hurt him and he deserved nothing less than a public declaration. She ran to the bandstand and grabbed the microphone. It gave a loud squealing sound that made everyone look toward the stage, toward her. Her hand was shaking but her voice was steady. “Mike Sloan, don’t go. I love you.”
Silence descended upon the park. Everyone was staring at her. It was like inhabiting her worst nightmare, but she didn’t care. “Did you hear me, Mike? I love you.”
Nothing. She stared out at the sea of faces watching her. Some were filled with pity and sympathy. Others, like the group of women she’d overheard earlier, wore expressions of scorn and malicious pleasure.
She almost turned tail and ran, but began to see familiar faces, those of people she knew. They were all smiling.
“Mike’s already gone.”
Annabelle felt hollow inside as she recognized Mrs. Casey’s voice. She knew that it was too late. She closed her eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat. She’d lost him.
“Don’t just stand there, child, go after him.” Mrs. Casey’s voice filled the night air and was soon joined by others urging her on.
She opened her eyes and peered past the crowd. She’d find Mike and make him listen. If he decided he was done with her after she’d had her say, she’d have to accept it. At least she’d know she’d done all she could.
Annabelle jumped off the stage and ran after Mike. The sound of people clapping kept time with the rhythm of her feet as she flew past them and through the park. Her skirt flew around her, showing off more leg than she ever had in public, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but Mike.
She grasped her purse in her right hand and pressed it against her stomach to keep it from hitting her. Soon there was nothing but the sound of her heavy breathing and the pounding of her feet as she raced down the deserted sidewalk.
When she finally reached the library parking lot the only vehicle there was hers. Undaunted, she dug her keys out of her bag, but they slipped out of her trembling hands. Her heart was racing and her lungs ached. She took several deep
breaths before picking up her keys. It only took two tries to get the door unlocked and the key in the ignition. A few seconds later she was headed out of town. Pride be damned, she wasn’t going to give him up without a fight.
Chapter Eleven
Annabelle crept through the darkened house. She knew Mike was here because his truck was out front and the hood was still warm. She’d let herself in using the key he’d given her. Truthfully, she’d been afraid to knock. Afraid he might not let her in. She reached her hand out in front of her to guide her as she searched the downstairs.
Careful to make no sound, she checked the living room. Even before she was all the way inside, she knew he wasn’t here. She couldn’t sense him in the room. Backtracking, she hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, but followed her instincts and headed toward the kitchen. Now that her eyes were adjusted to the dark, she noticed the back door was open. As she eased closer, she heard the squeak of the porch swing as it moved back and forth.
Annabelle took a deep, fortifying breath and stepped out onto the back porch. “I told the entire town I loved you.”
“Did you?”
Mike sounded almost uninterested, so cold and unapproachable. Her stomach clenched and her chest hurt. She thought about running, for about two seconds. In spite of her earlier actions, she was no coward, and Mike deserved no less than her total honesty. What he did after that was up to him.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Sucking up her courage, she continued to explain. “I ran up on the stage at the fair, grabbed the microphone and called out to you not to go, that I loved you.”
The swing continued to sway back and forth. Annabelle wished she could see Mike’s face, but it was shrouded in darkness. She bit her lip and watched him for any response. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face, but she made no move to wipe it away. Her nerves stretched to the breaking point as the silence continued.
Annabelle almost jumped out of her skin when Mike’s boots came down hard on the back porch and the swing came to a halt. He leaned forward and a beam of moonlight illuminated his face. His eyes were grim, his jaw taut. He looked tired but determined.
“Did you really mean it?” Mike’s voice was harsh in the quiet night.
She briefly closed her eyes as anguish seared her. She now understood how painful a blow she’d dealt him. It had taken all her courage to admit her feelings and he doubted them. Just as she had doubted him.
It didn’t help any that she knew he had every right to question the depth of her commitment. She’d been treating their relationship as temporary from the beginning.
Her knees were shaking, so Annabelle leaned against the porch railing for support. The edge of the railing dug into her hands as she gripped it tight and gathered her courage to speak. What emerged was a croak, so she swallowed and tried again.
“I allowed my insecurities to blind me. I doubted myself and therefore you, even though you never gave me any cause or reason. I can only promise that I’ll never again doubt that your feelings for me are real.” Before she continued, she took a deep breath to help fight back the threatening tears. She was determined to get through this without breaking down. “And if you’re willing, I’d like us to have another chance.”
Her fingers retained their death grip on the railing. She was afraid to look away from him as she waited for him to respond. Had she thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to her?
“Come here,” he ordered, his voice little more than a rasp.
Mike held out his hand and she tumbled forward into his arms. Her momentum started the swing rocking, but she wasn’t afraid. She was cradled securely in Mike’s lap with his arms around her.
“I’m sorry.” Annabelle suddenly burst into tears, surprising not only Mike but also herself. “I never cry,” she wailed, unable to stop the flow of tears.
“Of course you don’t, honey.” Mike held her as she cried. His kindness only made it worse and the tears kept flowing. When they finally subsided, he gently wiped her eyes with the tail of his shirt. He kissed her eyelids, her nose and her cheeks before he brushed a kiss across her lips.
Annabelle responded instantly. Every fiber of her being was crying out to show him how much she loved him. She kissed him with every ounce of feeling welling up inside her. She was surprised, and a little hurt, when Mike suddenly pulled away from her.
“Do you remember the first night I brought you home?” As he spoke, Mike lifted her gently until she was astride him. He adjusted her skirt so that it covered his lap like a blanket, giving his hands easy access to what was underneath.
Annabelle felt her face flush when she recalled her innocent comment about trying out the swing and Mike’s reply that they would try it later. “Yes.” It was both an affirmation that she recalled the conversation and permission to proceed.
Mike needed no more urging. He cupped her face in his hands, leaned forward and kissed her. It was a gentle caress, filled with tenderness and love.
When his tongue slid along her bottom lip, she opened her mouth and used her tongue to coax his inside. Mike groaned and tightened his hold as he kissed her with a passion that stole her breath. His tongue laid claim to her mouth, devouring her.
This was where she wanted to be, where she belonged. She ran her hands up his arms, over his steely biceps and broad shoulders and finally buried her fingers in his thick hair.
Mike trailed hot kisses down her neck, pausing to nip her shoulder. “I have to have you, Annabelle.”
His words were stark, his need as great as her own. “Yes.”
Mike tugged at her tank top, pulling it from the band of her skirt. “Raise your arms.”
When she did as he asked, he whisked her top over her head and dropped it onto the back porch. He paused and stared at her, or rather at her breasts. Her white bra shone like a beacon in the moonlight. He traced the satin covering her nipples. They hardened instantly. Mike swore under his breath and reached behind her to unhook her bra. He dragged it down her arms and tossed it aside.
Slowly, almost reverently, his hands cupped her breasts. Annabelle held her breath when he leaned forward and blew on one puckered nipple before running the flat of his tongue over it. She moaned as pleasure shot from her breast to her core. She squirmed, trying to get closer to the ridge of hardness pressing against the front of his jeans.
Mike turned his attention to her other breast, giving it the same attention before sitting back. The heat from his gaze almost scorched her as he stared at her wet nipples. “Give me your hands.”
Annabelle was unsure what Mike wanted her to do but offered him her hands. He took them and guided them to her breasts, positioning them so she was supporting their weight. She felt awkward when he leaned back to survey his handiwork.
“You look like a pagan goddess offering herself to me in the moonlight.” He clamped his hands around her waist to hold her steady and then took what she offered. He traced his fingertips over her taut nipples, softly first and then with more pressure. He caught both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and tugged gently.
Annabelle felt pagan and wild sitting there half naked in the moonlight. The light breeze brushed over her heated flesh like a caress. She felt totally alive, a temptress.
Only Mike made her feel this way. It was a gift, one she wanted to freely share with him.
He replaced his fingers with his mouth, shifting back and forth to suck on both breasts. Annabelle gave herself up to the erotic pleasure of his mouth on her sensitive skin. The hot tug of his mouth on her nipples, the feel of her own hands on her breasts, and the summer breeze were incredibly erotic.
But it soon wasn’t enough. She had to feel his skin against hers.
She dropped her hands from her breasts and tugged at his shirt, eager to have it off. Mike didn’t have patience enough for her to do it and yanked it over his head. She didn’t care who removed his shirt, only that it was gone, no longer an impediment to her touch.
/> She ran her hands over his muscled chest, loving the way the muscles rippled. His skin was deeply tanned from working outside with his shirt off. And he was strong, so very hard and firm. Everywhere.
She placed her palm over his heart. It was beating fast, a pounding rhythm that echoed hers. It spoke of passion and growing need. She traced a pattern around and over his nipples and was rewarded with his moan of pleasure.
Mike dragged her close and devoured her lips. He drank from them as though she was the only one who could quench his insatiable thirst. They were chest to chest, her nipples pressing against him. Annabelle rocked from side to side, loving the feel of her soft breasts against his rock-hard muscles, and the rasp of her nipples against the light covering of his chest hair.
He groaned and blazed a path down her neck to her breasts. He cupped them both with his hands and feasted on her. His movements were not the caring touches of an accomplished lover, but those of a desperate man. She’d never felt so needed or so needy.
“Mike, hurry,” she encouraged. She had to have him, to feel him hard and hot inside her. Almost losing Mike had forced her to face her love for him. Now she wanted to celebrate in the most natural and basic way.
She needed them to make love.
In answer to her plea, Mike lifted her off his lap and in one motion stripped away her skirt and panties.
He paused only long enough to carefully unzip his jeans. His penis was hard and straining upward from the opening in the denim. He pulled her astride him once again and impaled her at the same time. “Take all of me.” It was more of a plea than a command and was exactly what she wanted too.
Annabelle spread her legs wider and gripped his shoulders for support as she lowered herself. He slid deeper inside her, the pleasure intense. He filled her, stretching her slick channel in the most delicious way, sending jolts of pleasure rushing through her.
Uncovering Annabelle Page 13
