by Susan Crosby
“It seems like seeing the world a little would help you appreciate home even more. He wasn’t even in the military.” Donovan was still trying to figure out what Dixie meant when she’d said Joe was just like Jake and him, except he hadn’t left home. “You haven’t gone anywhere, Joe. Are you okay with that?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? I have a thriving business I can’t leave.”
“You also took over the man-of-the-family role when Dad died, and you were the only male offspring living here. You were stuck. But did you want to leave? Do you now?”
“I think about it.” He took a good, long drink.
Donovan exchanged a look with Jake. Joe wasn’t a complainer. In many ways he reminded Donovan of their father. He went off to his job every morning without griping about it, worked hard and had seemed okay with his life—until recently. Maybe the breakup with Dixie wasn’t the only thing that had changed him.
“And if I decide to do something about it, I’ll let you know, okay?” Joe said. “I may be the youngest, but I’m no kid.” He stood. “I’m gonna say hi to some friends.”
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Jake said when he’d gone.
“Yeah.” Donovan watched Joe pull up a chair at a table with two women. Dixie turned away and focused on Laura, laughing as if she was having a great time.
“Despite what you said this afternoon, I know you’re not just friends,” Jake said, gesturing with his head toward Laura. “You can’t stop looking at her.”
“Hell, Jake. Even you said you’d been tempted through the years.”
“I was joking. She’s always only had eyes for you.”
Why was it others seemed to know that but not him? Except for that time in high school, she hadn’t come on to him again. And there’d been plenty of opportunities.
“You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Jake asked, humor in his voice.
“In what way?”
“You want to ask her to dance, but you can’t—for whatever reason you think is valid. And you can’t ask Dixie, because Joe would retaliate by asking one of the women he’s sitting with. The potential for fireworks tonight is more than any Fourth of July celebration.”
“And you sit there smirking, because you’ve got a wife and you’re done playing the mating game.”
“Damn straight. If I’d known marriage would bring such peace to my life, I would’ve done it years ago.”
Peace. Was that what had been missing in his life? He recalled how reluctant he’d been to leave town this last time, how he’d stalled until the last moment—and that stall had resulted in his meeting his son, instead of being called back home by someone in his family. Plus, it hadn’t even been a big deal to him that he was postponing an important article, the kind he usually craved researching and writing, his lifeblood. It should’ve been a big deal.
Peace. He wouldn’t call his relationship with Laura peaceful. Arousing, frustrating, satisfying in some ways, yes. But not peaceful. And secret. He exposed secrets for a living. Was that why hiding the relationship wasn’t sitting well with him?
And now he would be living across the street. They hadn’t had a moment in private to talk about it, and he figured she must have plenty to say.
He studied her from across the room. She threw back her head and laughed at something Dixie said. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that before. She was generally more subtle with him. He wanted to know the side of her that let go and laughed so boisterously.
“I dare you,” Jake said, elbowing his brother.
“To do what?”
“Ask her to dance.”
“She warned me she had two left feet. I verified it.”
“So don’t move much.” Jake was laughing. “Never known you to be a coward, Donny.”
Jake was right. Not only was Donovan being cowardly, he was also hesitant, something new for him. He decided to accept the dare. Several couples were on the small dance floor. They wouldn’t be in a solo spotlight.
He stopped at the jukebox and punched in a song to follow the one currently playing. He zeroed in on her as he crossed the room. She glanced his way, looked back at Dixie, then did a quick double take when she realized he was heading directly to her. She ran her hands down her thighs.
He stopped next to her chair. “Evening, ladies.”
“Hi, Donovan,” Dixie said, her eyes twinkling.
She knew he and Laura had slept together, he thought, seeing pure sass in her expression.
“Do you know my friends Sheryl and Nancy?”
“I don’t.” He shook hands with each of them. “Can I buy you all a pitcher?”
“Well, sure,” Dixie said. “That’d be nice.”
He signaled the bartender, then turned to Laura. “May I have this dance?”
She fiddled with her napkin, shredding it. “You know I don’t dance.”
“It isn’t a two-step, Laura. We’ll take it slow.”
He wasn’t used to her not speaking her mind, and it was pretty evident that she wanted to have words with him. He put out his hand, counting on the fact that she would rather go with him than have to explain to the others why she wouldn’t.
She stood, resistance in her stance.
Donovan did his best not to gloat.
Chapter Thirteen
L aura hadn’t figured she’d ever have a second dance with Donovan. In some ways it felt even more important than sleeping with him, because it was public. Sure, lots of people who weren’t lovers danced, but she could always recognize the difference. People who were intimate allowed the other person into their personal space comfortably. And it felt completely natural to be in his arms, even if she was furious at him. Even if she couldn’t dance well.
“You’re ticked,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist, drawing her close but not too close.
“How could you do this? We agreed to keep our relationship to ourselves.”
“Look around. No one cares what we’re doing.”
She did look around. “You’re wrong. Several people are watching us.”
“In the same way that they’re watching everyone else who’s dancing. Look, Laura, I’ve been thinking about this all day. What would it hurt if people knew we were seeing each other? I’m not talking about spending the night if Ethan’s around, but in general.”
Because it’s going to end. The thought hurt, but it was the only truth she knew.
“I don’t like lies,” he said before she responded.
“We haven’t lied to anyone.”
“A fine point, and you know it. It’s a secret. Secrets always involve lies. In my line of work, I uncover lies.”
“This isn’t about your job.”
“True. It’s about me. My integrity. And yours. Anne kept Ethan a secret from me. I will never forgive her for that. Never. And you can’t convince me that a secret has less consequence than a lie. Either one is a deal breaker for me.”
“I see your point.” The point being, she’d been keeping her secret from him all along, when she’d always been honest with every other man she’d dated—semihonest. She didn’t divulge the details, only that she didn’t want to get married or have children. She hadn’t told Donovan, and she didn’t know why. Well, maybe she did. But now she’d sealed her fate with him by keeping the secret from him. She should come clean…
But she didn’t want to give him up. Not yet.
“But,” she added, finally breaking her silence, feeling him tense. “It’s still new. Let’s see for ourselves where it goes before we involve anyone else.”
“I can see we need a little more discussion about this before you agree with me.” He sort of smiled and pulled her a little closer. “Enough talk about that. Let’s enjoy our rare opportunity to dance. It’s the only time I get to lead, you know.”
She was more than willing to abandon the serious topics, but she wasn’t sure dancing was going to solve anything. “That’s because I don’t know how to dance.”
“E
xactly. You’re damn good at everything else. It’s my turn to show off.”
She had just begun to relax when the song came to an end. Grateful, she started to pull away. He tightened his hold as a new song began, the lyrics far too appropriate as Toby Keith sang about kissing—and getting lost on the dance floor. She didn’t want to get lost. She wanted to keep her head about her.
“So. We’re going to be neighbors,” she said, trying to ignore the song.
He smiled, slow and sexy. “Life can change in the blink of an eye, can’t it?”
“I guess you know that better than most people.” She’d slept with him. She already knew what his body felt like, skin to skin. Yet dancing, fully dressed, had her just as revved up as being naked in bed with him.
“I guess I do.” His fingertips pressed into her lower back, something no one else would be able to see but that she could feel, heat expanding from that point.
Her head was spinning, just as the song said. “You’ve got a lot of work ahead, cleaning up that backyard.”
“I’m always up for a challenge.”
She had a feeling they weren’t talking about the same thing, her feeling confirmed when he eased her close enough that their hips aligned. “Will you install play equipment?” she asked.
“It came already installed—thirty-three years ago.” He flattened her other hand against his chest so that he now had both arms around her waist. “Works perfectly, as you know. Takes you soaring. Safe, too.”
She couldn’t look at him anymore, at the knowledge in his eyes and the anticipation of more. She shifted a little, touched her head to his cheek, looking over his shoulder. The action brought her breasts against his chest. He drew a long, slow breath.
“What will you do about furniture?” she asked, pointedly redirecting the conversation with what little remained of sane thought.
“There are these interesting places, counselor, called stores. If you haven’t seen one before, I’ll be happy to show you. They even let you test out mattresses. Decide whether soft works for you. Or maybe you like hard better.”
She gave up trying to keep the conversation nonsexual. “I like both—for entirely different reasons.”
“Really? You enjoy soft?”
“For what it implies. There’s the breath-catching aftermath. And the anticipation of what could happen again. And don’t forget the fascinating process of transformation.”
“Ah. The adjustable mattress. I’ve heard of them.”
“How about you? What do you prefer?”
“The kind you can sink into.” He spun her around and around, matching the lyrics.
She felt dizzy but didn’t stumble. It was a different kind of dizzy. One that had her leaning back, staring at his mouth. “Donovan…”
He bent low, brushed his lips against hers, an electrifying touch. She kissed him back, needing him…
Laura jerked back. What was she doing?
The song ended. She pulled herself free. “I knew this was a mistake,” she said low and fierce. “Don’t make a scene, okay? I’m going to leave now.”
“I won’t make a scene. But you don’t need to leave.”
Oh, yes, she did. And right now, before she made a fool of herself.
She said goodbye to Dixie, grabbed her purse and left. By the time she got in her car, she was shaking. He had a way of making her forget herself. She’d always been able to stay in control, except with him. And now everyone there had witnessed that. She’d kissed him. In public.
She fumbled with her key, trying to get it into the ignition, when her passenger door opened, and Donovan climbed in. “I need a ride,” he said lightly. “I can walk to Mom’s from your house.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Your car is right there.”
“I’ve been drinking.”
Like her, he’d had time to drink half a glass. She turned back and stared out the windshield, swallowing hard. He was being thoughtful, not wanting her to drive when she was so upset.
“Do you want me to drive?” he asked quietly.
It was the quiet, understanding way he asked that had her nodding. Without speaking they got out, then traded places. She was angry, but more at herself for allowing herself to be in that public situation with him.
He started the engine. “I’ve been wanting to take your car for a test spin.”
She latched onto the chance to change the subject. “You should’ve asked. I would’ve let you. It’s just a car.”
“No car is ever ‘just a car,’” he said, backing out.
“You mean you wouldn’t let me drive yours?”
“Maybe. After the new-car smell wears off.”
“How long does that take?”
“About five years.”
She laughed, still shaky but settling down. “I’ll bet you don’t keep a car that long.” She tossed her head, the wind lifting her hair as they drove along the highway.
“If that turns out to be the case, I’ll let you drive it once before I trade it in.”
His palm rested on the gearshift. He could easily slide his hand over an inch or two and set it on her thigh. The fact that he could, even if he didn’t, turned her on. And they weren’t in public anymore.
“This is a great little car,” he said. “Not stodgy at all.”
“It’s how I balance myself with my work.”
“You balance it just fine without doing anything.”
“So, you don’t find me stodgy?”
“Depends on whether you’re naked or dressed.”
“Really? You find me stodgy when I’m naked?”
He shot her a look, then realized she was joking. “The librarian—or maybe in this case, the lady-lawyer—fantasy is popular for a reason.”
“Hmm. Interesting.”
He took the turn to her street. She pulled a remote from the glove box and opened the garage. He eased the car in and shut it off.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
He dropped the keys in her hand. “Anytime.” When she didn’t say anything else, he started to open the car door. She hit the remote to close the garage door.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked.
The garage door touched ground. “Seems like you already answered that question for me.”
“You know where the front door is.”
He slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her toward him to kiss, something she’d been aching for him to do all day when they were together with Ethan and again then since he’d walked into the bar. Need sparked greater need, creating fire that crackled and flared between them.
The garage still held the day’s heat, was stuffy and stifling.
“Let’s go inside,” he said.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Fourteen
B y the time she opened her door and got out, Donovan was there, kissing her again, tasting her welcoming warmth, feeling the vibration of her moans transfer to him, rousing, tempting. They found their way into the house. She flattened her hands on his chest and pushed away slightly.
“I’ll be back,” she said, breathing hard. “I have to do something.”
Birth control, he decided, shoving his hands through his hair. A diaphragm, maybe? They hadn’t discussed it last night except that she’d said she’d taken care of it.
“Hurry,” he said, impatient.
She disappeared down the hall into her bedroom. Aroused and eager, he made his way to the living room. In almost no time he heard her door click open. She came down the hallway toward him, holding a few casebooks, her hair up, a pair of reading glasses on and wearing a white bra, panties and a skinny black tie.
Lady-lawyer fantasy. He knew enough of the legal lingo to say, “Looks like I’ve won my appeal. Habeas corpus, counselor.” She did, indeed, “have the body.”
She laughed as she continued moseying toward him, her hips swaying. He popped the snaps of his shirt, dragged it free of his jeans and hurled it toward the
couch.
“Need help with your boots, newsman?”
He dropped onto the sofa and raised his foot. Leaning over him, she pulled one boot off, her breasts barely contained by her bra, her nipples hard and inviting behind the lace; then she turned around, settled his other boot between her thighs. He planted his other foot on her rear, while she yanked off the second boot. He wanted to tell her how exciting she was, how different, but he figured she’d take that as a comparison. No one wanted to be compared.
He stood. The rest of his clothes joined his shirt on the sofa, spilling like a Dali painting, looking as surreal as he felt. He’d been worried that they wouldn’t repeat what they’d done last night, had figured she would find some way to stop the relationship in its tracks.
He was glad to be wrong.
“Shall we go sequester ourselves in my bedroom?” she asked, letting her hand glide down his torso, then wrap around him.
“Obviously, the evidence needs no oral argument,” he said, drawing in a breath. “Although you can give that a shot, too.”
She laughed, soft and sultry. “Let’s go present our cases. Maybe we’ll create a few precedents of our own.”
She’d yanked the bedding off, as he had done at the hotel, except that his had been deliberate and neat. He was glad she’d been in such a hurry.
They fell onto the bed together, wrapped each other up in a tangle of arms and legs, then just stopped and held on, both breathing heavily and haltingly. After a minute he pulled back slightly and kissed her tenderly, remembering how upset she’d been earlier, wanting to make sure she knew he cared about her, that she wasn’t just someone to have sex with. And vice versa.
“You are a constant surprise,” he said against her lips as he got rid of her undergarments.
“Good.” She deepened the kiss, indicating she didn’t want to talk anymore.
But he always accepted challenges. “You’re a lot more fun than you let on.”
“I’m not laughing now, newsman.”
He did laugh then, but at the same time cupped her breast, circling the nipple with his thumb, then sliding down her to taste the hard flesh. She arched, offering herself as he took his time exploring the landscape of her incredible body, drifting lower and lower, savoring her, enjoying every sound, every movement. He sent his hands on a journey, gliding and stroking, cherishing and arousing. Only when he was ready to give in to her increasingly demanding pleas did he let his mouth take over for his hands, enjoying her, appreciating all of the woman she was. Finally she gripped his hair and rose up, her pleasure and satisfaction audible, giving him a memory to cherish, too.
