“C’mon. You were only locked up for an hour or so, and all the charges were dropped,” she protested.
“Please tell me I don’t have your father to thank for that favor.” Actually, with the mention of her father, he realized he was going to have to come clean about his business bargain. But not now, not when he had this feeling…this really good feeling.
After all, he was the king of denial.
Vic picked up Mimi’s hand and entwined his fingers between hers. “You’ve got big hands,” he observed. “Capable hands. No nail polish. I like that.”
“How can you even tell when there’s hardly any light left? But you’re right. No polish, no fuss. Nothing to get in the way of a quick in-and-out assignment.”
“But you’re not on assignment.” He turned their clasped hands upside down and kissed her palm.
“Ooh.” She reacted like she’d been pinched. “And I’m quite happy about that right now.”
He looked up. In the last remnants of candlelight he was sure he could see her pupils dilate, though perhaps that was his male ego making him imagine it.
Mimi tilted her head. “So, tell me. Now that we’ve bared our souls, I’m still not sure why I’m so attracted to you. We don’t seem to have anything in common, except an unfortunate run-in in our past. You appear to live in starched shirts, whereas I don’t even own an iron. I remember you arguing against equal opportunity for women athletes if it jeopardized men’s programs. And while you may have changed your attitude, I somehow doubt it. And I hate to think what your political views are. And yet…” She eyed him.
“Maybe it’s because I’m simply the most attractive man you’ve ever gone on a picnic with?” His voice was playful.
“That’s true. But I haven’t been on many picnics, period.” She studied him some more. “I think it’s because you have a dog with one big ear and one little ear.”
Roxie snored contentedly from her spot on the end of the blanket.
“I think it’s also because you care about your family even though they drive you crazy,” Mimi went on. “And I think it’s because you like to swing your nephew higher than is strictly necessary.” She paused. “And quite possibly because you’re the best-looking man I’ve ever been on a picnic with.”
He reached up and cradled her cheek in one hand. “I like that.”
“But by the same token, why are you attracted to me?”
He smiled, noting her insecurity. “Let’s see. I’m attracted to you because my dog likes you, and she doesn’t normally feel comfortable around just about anyone. I like that you make me forget I was ever a Boy Scout.”
“Eagle Scout,” she corrected.
“See? I’d already forgotten.” He rubbed the tips of his fingers against her soft skin. “And then there’s the matter of your meatballs. Don’t tell my mother, but they’re better than hers.”
She leaned her chin into the heel of his palm. “Please, I don’t want to get between you and your mother.”
“No problem. But let’s leave my mother out of the discussion.”
“And we’re agreed we’re not going anywhere near politics, religion or the Equal Rights Amendment.”
“Agreed,” he affirmed.
She breathed in deeply. “So, you think something’s going to happen between us?”
“Oh, yeah.” He tilted his head and brought his lips close to hers.
“Me, too,” she conceded. She arched her neck so that the distance between them was even smaller. “Tonight?”
“Quite possibly.” Without warning, he grabbed her and rolled over onto his back, taking Mimi with him. For a tall woman, she was surprisingly light as she lay atop him. Her long, lanky body molded perfectly into his. She wiggled her hips. More than his interest sparked.
He looked up at the stars and inhaled the freshly mown grass, a sure sign of promise. Cars drove by on the two-lane road a couple hundred feet away. But somehow the engine noise seemed farther, the vestiges of modern time and a hectic world beyond reach. A split-rail fence surrounded an oak sapling—nurtured from an acorn from the original Grantham Battlefield oak that had witnessed Washington and his ragtag bunch of troops defeat the better-equipped British army. Here, in this historic place, time was expressed in the form of nature reviving and growing from old memories.
He reached up and cupped the delicate curve of Mimi’s ear, then let his index finger trail down the line of her jaw, the rounded point of her chin. “You know, I’m glad you chose this place. It’s magical.”
She shivered when he slipped two fingers inside the turtleneck of her thin sweater and stopped on the center juncture of her collarbone. “Plus it’s within walking distance from the family house. An added bonus.”
“You got in my car once and survived.” He splayed his hand on her breast. She pressed into it.
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to risk being more nervous than I am already.”
“You’re nervous?” He moved closer to her as if to kiss her.
She readily responded, lowering her head to his. “You’re not?” Her lips almost touched his.
“Well, it doesn’t stop me from being a man of action.” He closed the gap between them with a gentle kiss that immediately deepened into a slow exploration of taste and desire. They let their tongues dance, their lips search, their teeth nipping to taste here and then there.
When they finally broke apart, Mimi gulped for breath. “We won’t disturb Roxie, will we?”
Vic glanced in the direction of the dog, sprawled out next to the picnic basket—no fool she. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the dog has been asleep for quite a while.”
Mimi turned her head and peered in Roxie’s direction. A loud snore arose and mingled with the chirping of cicadas. “You’re right. She’s down for the count.”
And Vic took full advantage of it, applying the full force of his concentration to something sensual instead of practical for a change. With his mouth and his hands he explored Mimi’s face. He spanned his hands around her slim waist and through the fine wool of her sweater rubbed his thumbs along the undersides of her small breasts, gradually moving upward to tease the taut peaks of her nipples.
Mimi groaned and buried her head in the side of his neck. Her fingers frantically worked the buttons of his dress shirt, fumbling in the dark. “You’ve got too many tiny buttons,” she complained, panting.
“I know exactly what you mean.” He held her and hoisted them up together. She sat up on his lap, watching while he yanked the shirttails out of his trousers and worked to undo his shirt. Then she took her turn and yanked her sweater over her head, leaving only the wisp of a camisole covering her pale skin.
Vic moved like a man possessed, stripping his shirt off his chest and down his arms. His unbuttoned cuffs caught on his wrists. “Oh, the hell with it!” he exclaimed and forced them over his hands, the buttons popping off from the force.
Then he reached for Mimi and they went tumbling down on the blanket again. This time Vic was on top, his bare chest against her torso, with only the small bits of lace separating his skin from hers. He ran his hands up and down her sides. “You feel incredible. Amazing.”
He felt her shiver. “You’re not getting cold, are you?” He’d noticed the way she seemed to bundle herself up in sweaters and turtlenecks on otherwise mild days.
Mimi shook her head. “Not if you keep rubbing me that way. And, please, don’t stop.” She grabbed the back of his head and without any grace whatsoever—but with a clear message—brought his lips down to hers. This time she was the aggressor, nipping and teasing his lower lip, darting her tongue in and out to mimic lovemaking.
Without breaking their kiss—and thanking the heavens above that his knees and back were cooperating—Vic reached down for his belt buckle and, one-handed, undid it. She was doing something with her tongue along the ridge of his top teeth that almost had him floating, but luckily he kept control of his coordination, not to mention his dignity. He closed his eyes, roc
ked slightly and concentrated on moving the zipper down one agonizing notch at a…
Which is when car lights—high beams, there was no mistaking the intensity—shined directly on them. A car door slammed.
Vic stilled his hand. Lifted his head.
Then another car door slammed.
Mimi turned her head sharply.
The sound of footsteps could be heard on the gravel by the shoulder of the road.
Vic swore and quickly zipped up his pants. He searched around for his shirt, but found Mimi’s turtleneck sweater first. He passed it to her.
She wiggled it on, still on her back.
Aroused from her sleep, Roxie started to bark.
“Quiet, girl,” Vic commanded. All he needed was to have her bite a cop. He was sure they were violating local ordinances by being in a park after dark. Quickly, he located the end of the dog leash before she could take off.
Roxie strained at the end and barked protectively, with totally false bravado.
Vic got to his knees and waited for the inevitable. “Mimi Lodge,” he muttered with a philosophical harrumph, “getting close to you for any period of time is nothing but trouble with a capital T.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“HEY, MAN, DON’T TELL ME the cops have police dogs now?” It was a young male, late teens. He stopped near the road’s edge, the car headlights exposing his silhouette. His features may have been obscured, but the outlines of a six-pack of beer were easy to discern.
Roxie, straining on the leash, barked protectively.
Mimi scrambled to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “What the…”
“Roxie, quiet,” Vic ordered, then directed his attention to the two figures frozen by their car. “Sorry, boys, the dog’s loud but perfectly harmless.”
“How come if he’s perfectly harmless I can see his teeth from here?” The driver of the car moved cautiously sideways. He carried a beer bottle in one hand.
“It’s a she, and maybe she just wanted to let me know that you’ve committed two criminal offenses—driving with an open container and underage drinking.”
“What are you? A lawyer?” The passenger asked brazenly. The six-pack swayed toward them.
Roxie growled again.
The kid stepped back.
Vic shushed her. “Listen, guys, what you do is your business, but it’s only fair to warn you that the lady here—” he indicated Mimi “—is a cop magnet.”
“Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” she murmured under her breath.
“If you want to avoid a hassle,” Vic went on calmly, “let alone the grief you’re going to get from your parents when they have to come bail you out, you’ll dump your beer in the nearest trash can, go home and play Skyrim.” He made no threats, but the ring of authority in his voice was clear.
“Sky what?” Mimi asked, stepping closer to Vic.
As if on cue, the wail of sirens penetrated the night air. Now that the sun had fully set, a chill had truly begun to set in.
The sirens grew louder, more insistent. The two kids whirled around. “Geez, he wasn’t kidding. We’re outta here, man.” They scrambled back to the car.
“The beer?” Vic reminded them.
“Oh, yeah.” They raced to a nearby rubbish bin and dumped their stash before hightailing it back to their car. It peeled away from the shoulder, the spinning tires sending a shower of pebbles across the grass.
Mimi watched the escape and shook her head. “Talk about a mood breaker.” She turned to Vic. “Somehow I have this feeling we’re not going to have a night of passionate sex, let alone reach first base.”
“Not if those sirens are any indicator.” He looked at her sideways. “And, just to refresh your memory, we had already reached first and were on the way to second.”
“Oh, right, I seem to recall that.” Her throat tightened. All too clearly she remembered it.
“It doesn’t sound like I was having much impact on you.”
Mimi shook her head. “Au contraire. It was more a question of being overwhelmed.”
“Nice try.”
“Besides, the night is young. Who says it has to end here?”
“As far as the park is concerned, I think that’s pretty well no longer an option. On the other hand, I do live alone. We could take this stuff back to your family’s place, get my car and explore each other’s bodies on my king-size bed, not to mention the other six rooms of my town house—if you don’t count the two and a half baths. On the other hand, why neglect them?”
“Now, that’s my idea of decisive leadership. Tell me, did you ever think of applying those skills to revolutionize the stone business?” she teased.
“Hah, hah. Now stand to the side, and I’ll fold up the blanket,” he ordered, waving her away. “Roxie, you, too.” The dog had plopped herself right in the middle of the plaid.
It was quick work, with Vic grabbing the last meatball. She held on to Roxie’s leash with one hand and slipped the other in his as they left the park for the surrounding neighborhood of large old Colonial-style houses, half-timber Tudor estates and the occasional award-winning modern dwelling. The glow of tasteful streetlamps supplemented the state-of-the-art security systems. Grantham was a remarkably safe town, and most residents didn’t even lock their homes or doors. But not in this neck of the woods, where the preponderance of priceless art collections and lavish sets of jewelry were frequently featured in magazines and newspapers.
Relaxed, Mimi was in no rush as she let Roxie stop and sniff practically every blade of grass. “I can’t believe I’m actually enjoying myself in Grantham,” she announced, waiting while Roxie examined a branch of a giant holly bush with infinite fascination.
“I can’t believe I’m holding hands with Mimi Lodge,” Vic said.
Mimi gave him a sideways glance. “You make me sound like the fatted calf.”
“I wouldn’t use that metaphor exactly. But back in college, I remember watching you and some of the other members of the Women’s Water Polo team walking together to go to your Social Club. You all glowed with this supreme confidence of good schools and money. You seemed untouchable.”
“Hardly. I think we were a very down-to-earth lot. But I guess you’re right. We used to hang out a lot together because we were all members of Lion Inn.”
Roxie had had her fill of holly and jingled her collar that she was ready to move on.
“What club did you belong to?” Mimi asked.
“I didn’t. I was an independent.” The term referred to someone who didn’t join a Social Club, Grantham University’s version of coed fraternities, which were the hub of social life on campus.
“I’m surprised. All the clubs must have been eager to get you. Didn’t football players always join Colony?” she asked, mentioning another club across the street from Lion. The clubs were located on Edinburgh Street on the edge of campus, their architecture ranging from brick Southern Plantation to Gothic Revival.
“Maybe. In any case, I didn’t join because, number one, I didn’t have the money for the fees, and number two, I didn’t want having too much of a good time to get in the way of my studying or football.”
“You really were a Boy Scout, weren’t you?”
“I was practically born that way,” he admitted. They stopped at a traffic light.
Normally, Mimi would have barged ahead since there were no cars, but with Vic she didn’t feel that compulsion to push forward. Instead, she reflected on what he’d just admitted. “You know, I hope you’ve gotten over thinking of me as untouchable.”
He squeezed her hand. “I think I’ve already demonstrated that fact.” He paused. “And before you say anything, this…this is not about fulfilling some kind of post-adolescent fantasy. That’s not the kind of person I am.”
“I believe you because unlike me, you clearly do not bear grudges—well, maybe reasonable ones, but I don’t think you’d ever manipulate someone for your own gains.”
He suddenly shifted
his focus on a distant car, the headlights streaming on the paved road.
“You know, if we’re being entirely truthful about our college days, I have a confession to make, too,” she said, trying to regain his attention.
It worked. He turned back. The light changed and they crossed the street.
“Back in college? Back when you probably thought I never noticed someone like you?”
“Don’t tell me you secretly stayed awake at night wondering just how exciting it would be to do assignments in differential calculus together?”
“Please. Unlike my scientific little half-brother, my brush with mathematics was brief and far from illustrious. No, what I’m talking about is this one lecture course in Civil War history. Maybe you remember? It was scheduled at some ungodly early hour, but it was really popular because the professor was so good. And it needed to be held in the big lecture hall, the one that slanted down toward the front where the professor stood.” She raised their joined hands and swooped them down in a sloping fashion. “You always sat in the front row.”
He cocked his head. “Yup. Four seats in from the left aisle seat. Always the same seat. I’m left-handed and with those swivel-up desks, I always had to sit on the left so that I could still see the professor while I took notes.”
“I never noticed that, but it makes perfect sense.” She swallowed. “Anyhow, it got so I always checked that you were there. I found it…reassuring, especially since I usually crept in late, way in the back. I’d do that and first thing, seek you out, check that you were there. And of course you were—”
“I took attendance seriously.”
“As I would have expected. Anyway, I remember you always sitting in profile, your jaw jutting forward, tight curls covering your head…”
“My hair was longer then.”
“You’re right. But shorter hair suits you now—more mature.”
Vic groaned.
“No, no, that’s good. But let me finish. The thing was, I’m sure the lecture was fantastic, but more often than not, I’d find myself staring at you sitting all stoic and rapt up in the class. I thought you were the best thing to wake up to.”
The Company You Keep Page 15
