Savour the Moment tbq-3

by Nora Roberts

  “The way

  you do.”

  “Okay. I spot this blue dress with a great pair of legs and ...” He made a vague gesture that gave her a clear picture of the

  and. “I thought, nice, very nice indeed, and made some mention of same to Jack. He pointed out that the legs and the rest I happened to be scoping were yours. It gave me a hell of a jolt, I admit.” He gauged her reaction, judged surprise led the way. “In the interest of full disclosure, I also admit it wasn’t the first time. So whether or not it was the right thing to say, it was accurate.”

  “I’m not a pair of legs, or an

  and.”

  “No, but they’re still very nice.You’re a beautiful woman.That’s also accurate. Some have a weakness for pot stickers, some for beautiful women.”

  She looked past him, toward the deepening shadows. “That should piss me off.”

  “You’re also one of my oldest and most important friends.” Teasing no longer colored his tone. “That matters, a lot.”

  “It does.” She pushed her plate away before she made herself sick.

  “I think it’s also accurate to say something unexpected, or at least surprising, hit when you acted on impulse the other night.”

  As dusk thickened, his garden and patio lights sent out a soft glow, and in the distance a loon’s eerie wail echoed. It struck him as oddly romantic, and somehow suitable.

  “You’re being awfully delicate about it.”

  “Well, it’s a first date,” he said and made her laugh.

  “I just came for the shoes.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  She let out a breath. “Maybe not, but I had this plan, banking on you being out on an actual date where I’d sneak in, take back my shoes, and leave you a clever note.”

  “Then you’d have missed all this. So would I.”

  “There you go again,” she murmured. “I think part of my thing here is a direct result of my sexual moratorium.”

  Amused, he tipped up his beer. “How’s that going for you?” “All too well. I’m probably a little more—what’s the delicate term? Itchy, more itchy than usual these days.”

  “In the spirit of friendship I could take you upstairs and help you scratch that itch. But that doesn’t really work for me.”

  She started to say she could scratch her own itch, thanks all the same, but decided that was too much information, even between friends. So she shrugged instead.

  “It’s not like Jack and Emma,” he said.

  “Jack and Emma aren’t scratching an itch. They’re—”

  “Simmer down, Quickdraw,” he said mildly. “That’s not what I meant.They were friends—are friends—but they became friends, what, ten or twelve years ago? That’s a long time, but you and I? It’s basically our whole lives. We’re not just friends, we’re family. Not in an illegal and incestuous way that makes this conversation creepy, but family. Tribal,” he decided. “We’re from the same tribe, you could say.”

  “Tribal.” She tried it out. “You have been thinking about this. And I can’t disagree with you about any of that.”

  “Which is a nice change. We’re talking about changes, and not just for us, but for, well, the tribe.”

  “I bet you get to be chief.” With her elbow on the table, she propped her chin on her hand. “You always get to be chief.”

  “You can be chief if you can beat me arm-wrestling.”

  She was strong—she prided herself on it. But she also knew her limits. “And being tribal chief you’ve already decided how this should go.”

  “I have what you could call an outline. What would be a draft of an outline.”

  “You’re so like Parker. Maybe that’s part of it. If Parker were a guy, or we were both gay, we’d be married. Which would mean I’d never have to date again. My annoyance thereof the key cause for the sexual moratorium. And very likely this conversation.”

  “Do you want to hear the outline?”

  “Yes, but I’m passing on the quiz that follows.”

  “We give it a month.”

  “Give what a month?”

  “The adjustment. Seeing each other this way. We go out, stay in, have conversations, socialize, engage in recreational activities. We date, like people do when they’re easing into a different dynamic. And, given the tribal connection, and given what I assume is a mutual desire to limit potential damage to our current connection—”

  “Now who’s the lawyer?”

  “Given that,” he went on,“though it gives me no pleasure, literally, we continue the sexual moratorium.”

  “You’d also be in a sexual moratorium?”

  “Fair’s fair.”

  “Hmm.” She switched from beer to water. “We do all the stuff normal, consenting, unattached adults do with each other, but no sex, with each other or anyone else?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “For thirty days.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Why the thirty?”

  “It’s a reasonable time line for both of us to determine if we want to take it to the next step. It’s a big step, Laurel. You matter too much to me to rush it.”

  “Dating’s harder than sex.”

  He laughed. “Who the hell have you been dating? I’ll try to make it easy for you. How about we catch a movie after the event on Sunday? Just a movie.”

  She angled her head. “Who picks the flick?”

  “We’ll negotiate. No tearjerker.”

  “No horror.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Maybe you should draw up a contract.”

  He took the dig with a shrug. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m open.

  “I don’t have any idea. I never thought we’d get to a point where I would need an idea. How about we just sleep together and call it even?”

  “Okay.” When her mouth dropped open, he grinned. “I not only know you, but I know a bluff when I hear one.”

  “You don’t know everything.”

  “No, I don’t. I think that’s part of it, and I guess we’d better take some time and find out. I’m in if you are.”

  She studied the attractive and familiar face, the calm eyes, the easy posture. “We’ll probably want to murder each other half the time.”

  “That won’t be anything new In or out, Laurel?”

  “In.” She offered a hand to close the deal.

  “I think this calls for more than a handshake.” But he took her hand, used it to draw her to her feet along with him. “Plus we should see what it’s like when neither of us is irritated.”

  A little frisson, as much anticipation as nerves, jittered up her spine. “Maybe I am.”

  “No. No little crease here.” He skimmed a fingertip between her eyebrows. “Dead giveaway.”

  “Wait,” she said when he ran his hands down her arms. “Now I’m self-conscious. It’s no good if I’m thinking too much and—”

  He shut her up, drawing her in and up to brush his lips over hers in slow, soft sweeps.

  “Or,” she murmured, and let her hands glide up from his shoulders until her arms could link around his neck.

  More surprises, he thought, when there was warmth and exploration instead of just heat and impulse. Sweet and easy wrapped in layers of the familiar and the new. He knew her scent, her shape, but the taste of her, ripe and seductive, merged what was into what might be.

  He took his time, drawing it out, drawing her in, to savor the new mix of sensations.

  She poured herself into it, taking every ounce of the moment she’d imagined dozens of times. A dying day, soft lights, the quiet sigh of a summer breeze. Foolish fancies of a young girl’s crush, longings transformed over time into a woman’s need.

  Now the fancies were real, the longings met. And in the kiss she felt his need rise with hers. Whatever happened, this moment, this dying day, would always be hers.

  When their lips parted, he stayed close. “How long do you think that’s been in the
re?” he wondered.

  “Hard to say.” Impossible to tell him.

  “Yeah.”

  He touched his lips to hers again, testing, stirring, then deepening until they were both breathless.

  “I’d better go get your shoes.”

  “Okay.” But she pulled him back, racheting up the heat, groaning with it when his hands stroked down her sides to grip her hips.

  He teetered on the edge, but made himself pull back. “Shoes,” he managed. “Free the hostages.You really need to go. Home.”

  Stirred and shaken, she leaned back against the deck rail. “I told you dating’s harder than sex.”

  “We don’t shirk from challenges.You’ve got some lips. I’ve always liked the look of them. I like them even better now.”

  They curved. “Come over here and say that.”

  “Better not. I’ll be back in a minute with the shoes.”

  She watched him go and thought it was going to be a really long month.

  SNEAKING BACK INTO THE HOUSE SHOULD BE, BY ALL THE ODDS, simpler than sneaking out. Carter and Mac would be tucked into their place, Emma and Jack in theirs. Mrs. G would either be watching TV in her cozy apartment with her feet up and a pot of her evening tea, or out with some cronies. Parker? Probably still working, but in her own suite and in comfortable clothes.

  Laurel parked, reassured by the lights in the studio and guest-house. She just wanted to get into her own space, alone, and think about everything that happened, everything that had changed or started to change tonight.

  Her lips still tingled from his; her skin still hummed. She could all but dance to the tune. If she’d kept a diary, she’d cover today’s page with little hearts and flowers.

  Then rip it out and tear it up because that was embarrassing. But still, she’d do it.

  Smiling at the idea, she let herself into the house, carefully and quietly locked up behind her. She didn’t exactly tiptoe up the stairs, but it was close.

  “Are you just getting in?”

  She didn’t scream, but that was close, too. Whirling, Laurel gaped at Parker, then sat down hard on the steps before she tumbled.

  “Jesus Christ! Jesus! You’re scarier than a Rottweiler. What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” Parker waved the carton in her hand. “I went down for a yogurt and I’m going up to my room. What are you doing sneaking up the steps?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. I was walking. Quietly. You have yogurt in the little fridge upstairs.”

  “I’m out of blueberry. I wanted blueberry. Do you mind?”

  “No, no. God.” Laurel took a ragged breath, patted her heart. “You just scared the crap out of me.”

  This time Parker pointed with her spoon. “You have guilty face.”

  “I do not.”

  “I’m looking at it. I know guilty face when I’m looking at it.”

  “I’m not guilty. Why should I be guilty? I don’t have a curfew, do I, Mom?”

  “See, guilty.”

  “Okay, okay, put away the rubber hose.” Laurel threw up her arms in surrender. “I just went to Del’s to get my shoes.”

  “Laurel, I can see that.You’re holding them in your hand.”

  “Right. Right. Well, they’re great shoes and I wanted them back.” She stroked one affectionately. “He’d ordered Chinese.There were pot stickers.”

  “Ah.” Nodding, Parker walked up to sit beside Laurel.

  “I wasn’t going to stay, but I did, so we sat out on the deck and talked about me kissing him, then him kissing me. Which I didn’t actually mention to you. It feels weirder talking to you about it than it does talking to him.”

  “Get over it.”

  “I’m working on it, aren’t I? Anyway, we had to get to what do we do about it, if anything. He had an outline.”

  “Of course.” Parker smiled as she spooned up yogurt.

  “You’d expect that because the two of you are from the same mold. I told him if you and I were gay we’d be married.”

  Parker nodded again as she ate her yogurt. “I could see that.”

  “We talked it over and we agreed we’d see each other and do stuff that people do, except no sex.”

  Brows lifting, Parker licked her spoon. “You’re going to date but not have sex?”

  “For thirty days. The theory being we’d know by then if we really wanted to have sex, or if it’s just ... hmm. I know it’s reasonable and adult, but we know we want to have sex now.”

  “You take a little time first to make sure you’ll still like each other if and when you do.”

  “Yeah, that’s the sticker.There was more in there. Tribes and my legs, but the upshot was we’re going to see how it goes.You’re really okay with it?”

  Parker rapped her knuckles lightly on Laurel’s head. “Of course I’m okay with it, and if I wasn’t okay with it, you should tell me to go to hell and mind my own business. Want some of this yogurt?”

  “No, thanks. Pot stickers.” But she leaned her head on Parker’s shoulder. “I’m glad I didn’t manage to sneak in.”

  “Be gladder I’ve decided to be magnanimous and not be insulted you tried to.”

  “Best friend ever.”

  “It’s so true. I am. He’s a good man. I know he can be bossy because, same mold.And I know he has flaws, but he’s such a good man.” She laid her hand over Laurel’s briefly. “He deserves you. You and I have to make a pact right now, that when you need to bitch about him—or he needs to bitch about you to me—that you and I handle it the way we handle any other bitching about guys. You don’t feel hamstrung because he’s my brother, and I don’t take offense because he’s my brother.”

  “All right.”

  They hooked pinkies on the swear.

  “Now I’m going up, finishing up a couple things.” Parker rose. “You know if you don’t fill in Emma and Mac, their feelings are going to be hurt.”

  “I’ll update them.” She pushed to her feet to walk to the third level with Parker.

  FULL DISCLOSURE, DEL DECIDED, AND MADE ARRANGEMENTS TO meet Jack for a morning workout. Since the word was full, he told Jack to drag Carter along. He started off with cardio while Carter approached a treadmill with obvious trepidation.

  “I try to avoid doing this sort of thing in public. People could get hurt.”

  “Start off slow, then kick it up every couple minutes.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “I’ve missed this place.” In solidarity, Jack took the machine on the other side of Del. “Having the home gym right there’s convenient, but you miss the group buzz. Plus the many athletic females in skimpy outfits. I’m engaged, but still breathing,” he said at Del’s look.

  “I don’t understand walking on an electric belt when there are sidewalks right outside.” Gripping the bar with one hand—just in case—Carter gestured vaguely. “And they don’t move under your feet.”

  “Kick it up, Carter. Snails are passing you. How’s my Macadamia?”

  “She’s good.” Brow furrowed, Carter increased the speed slightly. “Staff meeting this morning, and a studio shoot. It’s probably good I’m out of the way for a couple hours.”

  “You’ll have your professor room before long,” Jack told him. “Then we’ll move on to Emma’s new space, and Laurel’s.”

  “Speaking of Laurel, we’re dating.” He heard the oof from the left and glanced over. “You okay, Carter?”

  “Just missed my footing. Um, by dating, you mean each other?”

  “That would be my definition.”

  “This would be my cue to jump down your throat and demand to know what you mean by taking advantage of one of my girls?”

  Del shifted his gaze toward Jack as he punched up his speed. “Unlike you, I’m not sneaking around and hiding it.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking and hiding, I just hadn’t figured out how to explain about Emma, for a short period of time. And since I’m marrying into the Quartet, I have certain privileges and d
uties. If you’re sleeping with Laurel—”

  “I’m not sleeping with Laurel. We’re dating.”

  “Right, and the two of you are just going to hold hands, admire the moon, and sing camp songs.”

  “For a while. Minus the singing. No comments from you?” he asked Carter.

  “I’m kind of busy trying to stay on my feet.”To ensure he did, Carter gripped the bar one-handed again. “I guess, off the top of my head, I’d say this is a quick situational change.”

  “I thought so at first, now I’m not so sure. It feels like it’s been brewing awhile.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Jack said, punching up his speed to match Del’s pace. “How did this brewing situational change happen?”

  “We had a fight, culminating in her telling me, and demonstrating that, I wasn’t her brother. Which I’m not. So we’re dating, and I’m just letting you know”

  “Okay. Three miles?”

  “You’re on. Kick it up, Carter,” Del told him.

  Carter said, “Oh God.”

  SUNDAY MORNING LAUREL LEFT HER KITCHEN WORK TO DASH upstairs for the pre-event briefing. When she found her three partners already in place, she held up a hand. “I’m not late.”And since she’d already had two cups of coffee that morning, grabbed a bottle of water. “Just FYI, it’s raining.”

  “The forecast calls for it to stop midmorning,” Parker stated. “But we’re prepared to move everything inside if it doesn’t.”

  “The arrangements are pretty simple,” Emma put in. “If it clears by noon, we can have everything dressed outside by one. Otherwise, we can shift it all to the Great Hall, do a big fireplace arrangement pretty quickly, add candles. We’re set either way. We’ll have both suites finished by ten.”

  “The grooms are due to arrive at eleven.”

  “I’ll shift back and forth for formals.” Mac nodded at Parker. “Both grooms have sisters standing up for them, which makes it nice. I can get some good shots with that dynamic. Doing guys means less hair and makeup time, and each has just the one attendant, so I should be done with the formals by twelve, twelve fifteen.”

  “Guests arriving twelve thirty, short cocktail mixer.” Parker read off her schedule. “For the outside ceremony, we line up at one, attendants will walk down the aisle together, then grooms will approach from either side. Ceremony time, twenty minutes. Mac takes post-pictures, caterers pass finger food.”