I dropped my phone back on the bed. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but I wasn’t sure I wasn’t ready.
I laughed out loud at my thoughts. Even they were confused.
Jordan Hayes was a wonderful man. We had been friends since he started at BAM. He lost his wife, Anna, over four years ago, and for a while, lost himself as well. It took him a long time to recover from his grief, and when Max died, our common bond of losing a spouse brought us closer. He was easy to talk to and understood my grief. We shared many stories, laughter, and tears, and his friendship brought me great comfort.
He was right—I did end our biweekly coffee breaks because I thought we were getting too close. Too familiar. I started to depend on those outings and seeing him, and I felt guilty. Disloyal to Max that I could already need another man’s presence in my life. So I simply stopped the outings. I remained friendly and cordial, but after inventing reasons not to go out for coffee, Jordan got the message and backed off.
Until this past week.
I stood and rehung the dresses I had been trying on back in the closet. I always did my best thinking while my hands were busy.
Jordan drifted through my mind. He was a tall man, his shoulders still straight and wide. His hair was gray, but thick and wavy. He kept it neat and brushed back from his face, and he was usually clean-shaven, although he sported neatly trimmed scruff at times which suited his strong jawline. He wore glasses for reading, his frames setting off his intense green eyes. He preferred dress pants and button-down shirts, the sleeves often rolled up, showing off his forearms. It was rare he wore a suit, but when he did, he wore it well. He was quiet and unflappable, meticulous in his work habits, and well respected in the office. He was always willing to lend a hand, work extra, or pitch in on whatever needed doing. He was well thought of by the partners, and the feelings went both ways—he thought highly of all of them. They called him the King of Paperwork and relied on him for his unfailing dedication.
He was a great man. Thoughtful, kind, and sweet. He always remembered birthdays, had a kind word to say to people, and encouraged those around him.
And I had liked the way his hand felt wrapped around mine the other day.
I hung the last dress and made a decision. I was going on this non-date date, and I needed a new dress to do so.
I picked up my purse and glanced at my watch. It was only two, and Jordan wasn’t picking me up until seven.
I could do this.
Sandy
I opened the door promptly at seven and met Jordan’s warm gaze. My constant plaguing doubts faded away as he regarded me. With a smile, he held out a bunch of irises. He leaned forward and brushed my cheek with his lips.
“You take my breath away, Sandy.”
I accepted the flowers, touched he remembered irises were my favorites, and stepped back. “Come in while I put these in water.” I walked toward the kitchen, calling over my shoulder. “Would you like a drink?”
He followed me, stopping in the doorway as I filled a vase and arranged the flowers. “No thanks, I’m good. I’ll have some wine with dinner.”
“All right.”
“New dress?”
I felt myself blush. “Yes, it is.”
He stepped closer—close enough, I felt the heat of him at my back. “For me?” he asked quietly.
My heart rate picked up, and all I could do was nod. As soon as I saw the simple, deep-blue dress, I knew it was perfect. It skimmed my breasts, fluttered around my knees, and the scooped neck was elegant yet sexy. It felt like me, and the color, Jordan had admitted the other day, one of his favorites.
He settled his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. Our eyes met, gentle green holding my nervous hazel, and he smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Ready to go to dinner?”
I drew in some much-needed oxygen. My stomach fluttered, and my breathing had picked up at his closeness. It felt odd…yet right. “Yes.”
He crooked his arm. “Then let’s go.”
* * *
I set down my wine, laughing. “I wish I had seen that.”
Jordan chuckled, wiping his eyes. “It was amusing. Van always makes me laugh. But watching him carry Liv out over one shoulder and Sammy over the other—all while Liv was giving him shit about something and Sammy was pretending to be queen of the castle and calling him Prince Van? It was priceless.” He shook his head. “I’m going to miss having him around every day.”
“He’ll be in and out, I’m sure. Bentley is constantly needing him for something.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
The waiter appeared, removing our plates. Dinner had been…fun. More fun than I could recall having in a very long time. The food was excellent, the wine superb, and the company perfect. Jordan was charming, funny, courteous, and the most gracious of dinner companions. We’d shared an appetizer, tasted each other’s meals, and talked the entire time. There was no awkwardness or stilted moments. The evening simply flowed.
I perused the dessert menu with a sigh. “I think I’m too full.”
“Nonsense,” Jordan exclaimed. “There is always room for dessert.”
“Says the man with the sweet tooth.”
He grinned. “I do have that. Anna used to keep baked goods on hand for me all the time. I constantly raided the cookie jar.”
I chuckled. “Max was the same. He never met a dessert he didn’t like.”
“Smart guy. Now, what looks good?”
I smiled as I went back to looking at the menu. There was nothing strange about talking about our spouses with each other. Other people tended to shy away from even mentioning Max’s name, yet Jordan had no issues at all. It didn’t bother me to hear him speak of Anna either. They were huge parts of our past lives, and it seemed almost natural to bring them into the conversation at times.
“The crème brûlée looks good,” I mused.
He closed his menu. “So does the chocolate mousse. Share?”
“Lovely.”
“Then we can take a stroll and walk off some of these calories. All right?”
“Yes.”
* * *
A gentle breeze blew across my face as we walked along the docks at the marina. Boats bobbed in the water, the hulls bumping against the wood. We stood and admired a few boats on the harbor, the lights on their masts glimmering in the water. Jordan had offered me his hand when he helped me out of the car, and it had remained wrapped around mine as we strolled along the docks.
“Do you like boats, Sandy?”
I furrowed my brow. “I don’t dislike them. I haven’t been on one very often, to be honest. Max and I went on a cruise once. I liked it, but he wasn’t a fan. Other than that, we did a tour of the harbor one time, and I think we went on a friend’s boat once.”
“Not a water lover, I guess?”
I chuckled. “You could say that. I can’t even begin to describe the shades of green he turned. Even with medication.”
Jordan laughed. “Poor Max.”
“He tried. But it was never something we could do together, and it wasn’t any fun doing it on my own.”
“Hmph. I’ll have to change that for you.”
“Oh? You like boats?”
He stopped in front of a small, neat sailboat. It gleamed white under the lights, the deck a dark contrast to the color of the boat. “I do. This one is mine. I take her out whenever I can.”
“I didn’t know that about you.”
He turned to me with a smile. “That’s the point of dating someone, Sandy. You get to know all about them.” He winked. “Try before you buy sort of thing.”
I laughed. “I’m a little out of practice.”
“So am I. But I think we’re doing pretty damn well so far, don’t you?”
I had to agree. Once I had set aside my nerves, the evening had gone well. Better than well. I had thoroughly enjoyed myself.
He stepped onto the deck, holding out his hand. “
Come aboard.”
I stumbled getting into the boat, and Jordan’s arms shot out to steady me. He pulled me tight to his chest, and for a minute I felt him. Solid, warm, safe.
Then he stepped back. “Okay now?”
I brushed back my hair self-consciously. “Sorry—not a very graceful move on my part.”
He reached over and tucked a stray strand behind my ear. His fingers seemed to linger, then he lowered his arm. “I love it when you wear your hair down,” he murmured. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I breathed out.
For a moment, we stared at each other, a warmth pulsating in the air around us. Then he smiled and stepped back.
“We’ll get your sea legs under you soon enough. Now come see my little boat.”
I didn’t know a lot about boats, but Jordan’s was very pretty. Lots of wood and bright plaid in the small cabin made it feel warm and cozy. He showed me the tiny galley, the compact bathroom, and the bed hidden behind a long curtain that doubled as a seating area. It was all neat, tidy, and comfortable looking, albeit tiny.
I was surprised to find out the boat wasn’t named after his wife. He shook his head when I asked. “Anna hated the water. She didn’t get ill like Max, she just hated it. She didn’t swim or like to go to the beach, and she never once came on the boat. So, I named it after my favorite kind of day to have on it. Open Waters.”
“Oh.”
“A good friend of Anna’s drowned when they were younger—she witnessed it happen. She never got over it.”
“How terrible.”
“It was for her—she was never able to move past it. So, I had the boat, and she had her quilting and sewing. I didn’t understand that and she didn’t like this, but it was fine. We both had something we loved.” He smiled. “As I discovered, it’s okay to have different interests, even when you’re married. We were never one of those couples who had to do everything together.”
I nodded in understanding. “As we got older, Max and I were the same. He worked so much he hated to leave the house when he had time off. He liked to hang around the house, take some time to write one of his books or a paper. I loved to travel, so we came up with a compromise. We’d stagger our vacations, and I would hang with him at the house for a week, then take a short trip with one of the grandkids or a friend. When he was working, I stayed busy with book clubs and different activities. We went on the occasional trip, but he loved resorts and I loved to explore. We took turns.”
“We both had great spouses.”
I smiled warmly at him. “We did.”
He cocked his head, studying me. “I think they’d be okay with us, out together tonight.”
I thought of Max. All the conversations we’d had over the course of his illness. He’d met Jordan a few times and always thought he was a nice man.
“Classy,” he said one day. “That man has class.”
My voice was low when I responded. “I think you’re right.”
* * *
I was quiet on the drive home. Jordan seemed lost in thought as well but was still solicitous, opening my door, helping me into the passenger seat, making sure I was warm enough. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but contemplative.
When we arrived at the house, Jordan walked me to the door, waiting until I unlocked it. I suddenly felt nervous. Tense.
Jordan met my eyes, a look of understanding on his face. “I had a lovely evening, Sandy.” He gazed at me. “I would like to repeat it.”
“Another date?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like that.”
His eyes lit up. “Great.”
He leaned forward and my heartbeat skyrocketed. My shoulders stiffened, and I drew in a sharp breath. He turned his head and his warm lips brushed against my cheek, then he stepped back, his face inscrutable. “Sleep well, Sandy. I’ll see you at the office on Monday. But if it’s okay, maybe I’ll call tomorrow?”
I nodded, mumbling an agreement. His smile was gentle, and he stroked down my cheek with the backs of his knuckles.
“Good night.”
I stumbled inside, shutting the door and leaning against it, shocked at the disappointment that flooded my body. My reaction to his closeness wasn’t one of rejection, but one of anticipation.
I had wanted him to kiss me.
He thought I was saying no. And Jordan, being Jordan, accepted it with understanding and grace.
I spun around and flung open the door, prepared to hurry down the steps before he drove off.
Except he was standing where I left him. Waiting outside my door as if he couldn’t bear to leave. Our gazes locked and held.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he said. “But you didn’t want that. Did I ruin the evening with the comment about Anna and Max?”
“No. I love that we can talk about them.”
“But you didn’t want me to kiss you.” It was a statement this time, not a question.
“I did,” I replied. “I was just nervous and worried and—”
He didn’t let me finish. In one step, he was in front of me, his hands cupping my face, his fingers tender and warm against my skin. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, across the bridge of my nose, nudging at it with his own as he discovered me with his lips. Then sweetly, gently, his mouth settled on mine, and he kissed me.
He slipped his hands down my arms, winding his arms around my waist as he pulled me close. I wrapped mine around his neck, holding tight. He was patient, kissing me through my tremors, waiting until I relaxed. Then his kiss deepened, his tongue sliding along my bottom lip, asking for entrance. He tasted like chocolate and cinnamon. His lips were soft, his tongue like velvet on mine. His arms became a warm sanctuary, his mouth worshiping mine with the most tender of possession. I felt his adoration in his kiss. The thrill of him raced through my body, sending shivers of pleasure over me, right down to my toes curling in delight and my fingers gripping his thick hair.
When he eased back, he dropped two light kisses to my mouth, then simply held me. I felt his rapid heartbeat, and I knew he could feel mine. Finally, he kissed my forehead and stepped away. I immediately missed his warmth. He smiled and drew a finger down my cheek.
“Thank you for a perfect evening, Sandy.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I look forward to many more.”
I blinked, unable to form words.
“I’ll wait until I hear the door lock behind me.”
I stepped backward, our gaze never wavering as I shut the door, turning the lock.
His footsteps faded as he went down the stairs, and I flung open the door again. He turned to look over his shoulder.
“Text me when you get home.”
His smile lit the night. “I will. Now, back inside.”
I shut the door, smiling when I realized he hadn’t moved yet. I snapped the lock, then watched out the window as he left and drove away.
I was still smiling when his text came through.
I am home and already missing you. Thank you for a wonderful night. Sleep well.
Monday suddenly felt very far away.
Jordan
I woke on Sunday, my first thought that of Sandy. I stared out the window at the rising sun, remembering the evening, the laughter and teasing. The excitement in her eyes when she was on my boat. I was already planning on taking her out for the day. It was the perfect place to spend time with her. Something I loved, that wasn’t as connected to my past. Anna had never even stepped foot on the deck, she was so terrified of water. She had seen a picture and that was all. The boat, my Open Waters, would be a great place for me to spend time with Sandy, creating our own memories.
I also thought about our kiss. I thought I’d ruined the evening, and her reaction as I moved in closer seemed negative, so I had backed off. When she’d opened the door, I saw the same desire in her eyes as I was feeling, and I took full advantage of the moment.
I closed my eyes, thinking how Sandy had felt in my arms. It had been so long since I’d held
a woman in my embrace that way. She was soft and yielding. Warm. She smelled like citrus and flowers—a delicate fragrance that was enticing and light. And when our mouths had met, the passion that coursed through my body was hot and bright. It still lingered, and my cock, which had been dormant for years, lay hot and heavy against my stomach, growing harder the more I thought of Sandy. It had taken everything I had not to deepen the kiss last night, shut the door behind me and stay with her. Kiss her until she begged for more and then make love to her.
But that was too fast, and I knew we would both regret it. Sandy wasn’t a fast flash for me. I already felt something for her—the feelings had been there longer than I was ready to admit to myself, but they were there. Last night had been the first time in years I hadn’t felt alone. The first time in many years I felt something other than sadness with only memories to smile about. It was as if I were waking up after a dormant period, my senses coming back to life, yearning to live again.
I slid my hand down my torso, wrapping it around my hard shaft, a low groan escaping as I stroked myself. It had been a long time for me.
It appeared that more than just my senses were waking up.
I threw back the covers and made my way to the shower.
It was time to see just how awake I was.
* * *
I sipped my coffee, staring out into the backyard. I sighed, thinking about opening the pool, wondering if I would even bother this year. With Gina and the kids gone, last year, the pool sat mostly unused except for the few times I went in on a particularly hot day. I turned and looked around the house, recalling the conversation I’d had with Gina when they visited at Christmas.
“Have you thought about moving, Dad?” she asked as we went through a box of her mother’s belongings that I had put aside for her.
I glanced around the spare room. “At times,” I admitted. “How would you feel about that?”
Vested Interest Box Set Books 4-7 Page 77
