Her Last First Date

by Susan Mallery

  She spread the pictures out on the floor and gave in to the tears. She looked so young, she thought as she touched a photo of herself in a hideous pink maternity blouse. Young and scared, yet determined. Determined not to let the consequences of a single night ruin her life.

  She knew that’s what she couldn’t forgive. That she’d never agonized over the decision. She’d simply decided to get rid of the “problem” as quickly and easily as possible. That meant finding a nice couple to adopt her baby.

  She hadn’t even tried to make it work. Hadn’t considered upsetting her careful plans. What did that say about her? She’d given away her child and for twelve years, hadn’t looked back.

  Shouldn’t she have been devastated? Shouldn’t she have worried about him? Wondered? Missed him? There were—

  Someone knocked on her front door. Crissy wiped her face and stood. As she walked into the hallway, she pulled the office door shut behind her. She wasn’t expecting anyone and it seemed too late for kids selling candy for school.

  She glanced out the peephole in the door and blinked when she saw Josh on her doorstep.

  Great. After her meltdown she would look red and blotchy. There was no way to disguise the fact that she’d been crying.

  She opened the door and tried to smile. “This is a surprise,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

  “That’s my question,” he told her. “I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?”

  “Great.”

  “Liar. Can I come in?”

  She stepped back to let him enter the house, then closed the door behind him.

  “Can I get you something?” she asked. “I have an open bottle of wine.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She went into the kitchen and poured a second glass for Josh, then collected the one she’d ignored earlier and carried both back to the living room.

  Josh stood by the fireplace. He took the glass of wine, then looked around. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. It’s kind of big for one person, but I like the high ceilings and the open floor plan.” She pressed her lips together. Chances are Josh wasn’t here to talk about her house.

  She motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

  When he was settled, she curled up in the corner and faced him. “I’m fine,” she told him.

  “That wouldn’t be my professional opinion. Meeting Brandon is a big deal. It makes sense that you have a reaction to all that’s going on.”

  “Is that what it is?” she murmured, then put her wine on the coffee table. “I feel guilty. That’s the bottom line in all this. I feel stupid and unworthy. He’s a great kid. I like him. But until recently, I never thought about him as a real person. I don’t even know what I’m upset about. Am I mourning what I never had? But I never wanted it. I don’t know if I want to be part of his world, or even if I should be. I don’t know how to get over the fact that I was lazy.”

  “You were young. There’s a difference.”

  “There might be a difference, but it’s not an excuse.”

  He sipped his wine. “I remember when Abbey told me they were adopting Brandon. I was still in medical school, studying all the time. I went by their house the first day they brought him home. I’d never been around babies before—not without my mom to handle things. He was so small. Both Pete and I were terrified. It was the only time I questioned being a doctor.”

  That made her smile. “Because you couldn’t handle one little baby?”

  “Yeah.” Humor brightened his dark green eyes. “But not Abbey. She was a natural. Loving, attentive and fearless. She could handle everything from cutting those tiny nails to treating a spiking fever. Pete learned because he had to, but for Abbey it was only joy. Sometimes I think she’s doing what she was born to do.”

  “Abbey’s a great mom,” Crissy said, remembering the homemade everything and the ice cream scoops in the individual paper cups. “I agree it’s her calling.”

  “So it was a cruel twist of fate that took away her ability to have children of her own. She’d only ever wanted to be a mom. You enabled that to happen.”

  Crissy knew in her head he was telling the truth, but in her heart, she didn’t think she should get off so easily.

  “Marty was my first serious boyfriend,” she said. “Back in high school. He played football and was really popular. I had a lot of friends, too, even though I played sports. So uncool for a girl.”

  “I’ll bet you did well.”

  “I did. I was fast and coordinated and I worked hard. I had a plan. Softball scholarship to pay for my college, then a high powered career in finance.” She shrugged. “At least the scholarship part came true. I had a full ride. The day I got the letter I finally admitted to myself what I’d been avoiding for weeks. That I was pregnant.”

  She looked away, remembering that day. How she’d curled up on her bed and wished the baby away—something she’d done ever since she’d begun to suspect that having sex with Marty and not using protection had been a dumb idea.

  “Marty was as shocked as I was,” she told Josh. “We were each other’s first time and stupid about birth control. He panicked, saying he didn’t want a baby. Not for a long time. I didn’t, either. I had a future and it didn’t include being a single mom.”

  “You were only seventeen. That would have been a hard road.”

  “I talked to my parents and told them what had happened. They offered to do whatever they could to support me. I could live at home and go to community college. Mom would baby-sit while I was in class. They made it sound so reasonable.”

  “But you didn’t want that.”

  She shook her head. “I wanted out. Marty signed the paperwork releasing him from responsibility as soon as he could and I started looking for a couple to adopt the baby.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” he asked. “Why is that so horrible?”

  “I don’t know. It just is. I feel guilty about not feeling guilty enough.”

  “That has to sound crazy, even to you.”

  Despite everything, she smiled. “I’ll admit it does. I just feel horrible about not caring enough. Not suffering enough.”

  “Because you would be a better person if you’d been emotionally crushed?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t regret the decision, just your lack of remorse?”

  Crissy hesitated. Did she regret giving up Brandon?

  She searched her heart. “Pretty much,” she admitted. “I’m not like Abbey.”

  “No one’s asking you to be.”

  “But she’s so great with the kids. She has all those domestic abilities. I don’t. I have no natural female talents.”

  From where he was sitting, Josh thought she had a few. More than a few. But she wouldn’t want to hear about him finding her sexy.

  Her vulnerability drew him in, mostly because he sensed she was normally confident and in charge of her life. She was a successful businesswoman who had one weakness—her inability to forgive herself.

  “We’re not living in the 1800s,” he told her. “Women don’t have a single role. Everyone gets to make choices. You gave your baby to a couple who desperately wanted him. Where’s the bad in that?”

  “Oh, sure. Use logic. I’m talking about my irrational side here. I want to wallow in guilt and shame.”

  “What is there to be ashamed of? Having Abbey and Pete raise your son?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “I’m not ashamed of that and Brandon isn’t my son. He’s theirs. They are possibly the most perfect parents I’ve ever met and as my parents did a hell of a job, I have fairly high standards. Who the hell do you think you are?”

  Temper flashed in her eyes. Color stained her cheek and she was breathing hard. Damn, she looked good. He felt a stirring of pure lust. It had been so long that at first he couldn’t figure out what the heat pouring through him meant. When he did, he nearly grinned. It felt good to be alive. How long had it been since he could say that?

&
nbsp; “You think this is funny?” she demanded, rising to her feet.

  “Not funny. Just interesting. Anger is more productive than self-pity.”

  She glared at him. “I can’t believe it. Are you playing me?”

  He put down his wine and stood. “A little. I had no idea there was such a drama queen hiding behind your power suit.”

  “Drama queen? I don’t think so.” She moved closer and pointed her index finger at him. “You’re just so typically male. Whenever there’s a situation that makes you uncomfortable or that you can’t handle, you go for the easy putdown. The chick insults. Do you feel more like a man now?”

  She breathed fury. He could see she wanted to hit him—or at least throw him out.

  “Kind of,” he said with a grin.

  Then acting rather than thinking, he grabbed her upper arms, pulled her up against him and kissed her.

  He felt her shock and half expected her to push him away. For a moment there was nothing but the warmth of her mouth on his and the heat flaring between them. He braced himself for rejection, but it never came. Instead she tilted her head slightly and kissed him back.

  Nothing intimate, he thought, enjoying the softness of her lips as they brushed against his. She shrugged her arms free of his hold and put her hands on his shoulders.

  He breathed in the scent of her body. The outdoors, the faint fruitiness of the wine and a feminine sweetness that was unique to her.

  He rested the tips of his fingers on her waist and slowly moved to her back. She felt different than Stacey. Shorter, curvier. At the thought of his late wife, he prepared to drown in memories and guilt. But there was nothing inside of him but a growing hunger.

  He shifted his hands higher, then slipped one up the back of her neck so he could bury his fingers in her short, silky hair. At the same time she erased the final step that separated them.

  Her body pressed against his from shoulders to knees. His first impression was of heat and curves. Her breasts burned against his chest. Every cell of his body cried out for him to touch her. To feel the smooth, soft flesh, to taste her nipples and listen to her moan in pleasure. It had been four years since he’d been with a woman, but he remembered everything he wanted to do. It flashed into his mind, an X-rated movie starring the woman in his arms.

  Knowing that wasn’t going to happen, he focused on their kiss. He moved to her jaw and kissed his way to her earlobe. Once there, he drew in the bit of flesh and nibbled until she sighed and her grip on him tightened. Her skin was soft and hot and tempting in ways he’d never imagined. The sound of her breathing filled him with need.

  He moved down her neck, going slowly, kissing his way to the open vee of her sweater. Only when he’d felt her heart pounding did he return his attention to her mouth.

  She opened for him immediately. He slipped inside and when his tongue touched hers, he felt a jolt clear down to his groin. The wanting grew until it was an inescapable pulsing. He was hard and ready. He wanted her. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her body. He wanted to make her writhe and scream and come, then he wanted to start at the beginning and do it again.

  Crissy drew back slightly and stared at him. Passion darkened her eyes. “Wow,” she whispered. “That was some kiss.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “‘Liked’ doesn’t come close.” She moved her hands down his arms, then dropped them to her sides. “I want to blame the wine, but I haven’t had more than a sip.”

  “Me, either.”

  “So it’s emotional intensity and chemistry?”

  He didn’t know what it was. The only thing he was clear on was that his body had come back to life and it felt damn good to be hard.

  “It just is,” he told her.

  “Very profound for a guy who doesn’t do touchy feely,” she told him.

  “I have untapped depths.”

  “I can tell.”

  He knew he should leave. She’d been through a lot today and probably needed some time to process everything.

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You going to be okay?”

  “Sure. I’m a little shell-shocked, but I’ll recover.”

  “You’ll get used to being around Brandon,” he said.

  “I was actually talking about you.”

  That made him smile. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah. You had me close to screaming ‘take me now, big guy.’”

  She had his full attention. “How close?”

  “You don’t need to know that.”

  But he wanted to know. He wanted her to tell him that he wasn’t the only one interested in the erotic next step.

  She pressed her hand to his chest. “You are very unexpected, Josh Daniels. You’re a good man and an amazing kisser. Seriously you should have a plaque or something.”

  He covered her hand with his, then drew her fingers up so that he could kiss them. He pressed his lips to the center of her palm and watched as her eyes dilated.

  “I should go,” he murmured against her flesh.

  “Yes, you should.”

  She didn’t sound exactly convinced.

  “Or I could stay.” He hadn’t planned to say that, but as soon as he did, he knew that’s what he wanted. To be with her. Alive for a single night.

  She drew in a breath. “Staying would work, too.”

  It was all the invitation he needed. He drew her against him and pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him, rubbing her belly against his hardness. The friction felt good—right. He wanted more. He wanted to bury himself inside of her and explode, but that was for later. Right now he had a plan.

  He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. She brushed against him, matching his intensity, circling him, driving him to the edge. He explored her back, then slipped his hands over the curve of her butt. He squeezed and she arched against him.

  The movements of the age-old dance returned to him. Slowly he drew up the hem of her sweater, then pulled the garment over her head and tossed it on the coffee table. But instead of going right for her breasts—which was really what he wanted to do—he pressed his mouth against her now bare left wrist.

  Using his tongue, his lips and his teeth, he teased, kissed and nibbled his way to the inside of her elbow. There he circled the sensitive spot until she gave a half-giggle, half-moan that made him smile. He repeated the action on her other arm.

  When her breathing came in pants he asked, “Which way to the bedroom?”

  She took his hand in hers and pulled him down a short hall and into the first door on the right. She touched a switch on the wall. A small lamp on a dressing table came on, illuminating the feminine space.

  The room was done in various shades of pink. Light pink on the walls, a deep rose on the bed. It was the most girly space he’d ever seen and a contrast to Crissy’s take-charge personality. He liked seeing this side of her.

  “Are you afraid?” she asked as she turned to him. “There are pink ruffles and lots of lace.”

  “I can handle it.”

  She pulled his shirt out of his jeans and began unbuttoning it. “Yes, but can you handle me?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  He pushed her hands away, took her in his arms and kissed her. Now when he explored her back, he felt heated bare skin. Even though he skimmed across her bra strap, he ignored it for now. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  He urged her backward until she reached the bed. When she was seated, he crouched in front of her and unzipped her boots.

  “I can’t believe you played football in these,” he said as he tugged off the high-heeled footwear. “You could have broken a leg. Or worse.”

  She smiled. “You’re such a guy. Women can do anything in heels. It’s all a matter of practice and balance.”

  He took off her socks next and had to hold in a groan when he saw her painted toenails and a gold toe ring. How many more surprises were there going to be?

  The throbbing in
his groin increased every time he touched her. As he had her stand so he could unfasten her jeans, his arousal made a strong case for just going for it. He ignored the message and the way she looked in tiny bikini panties, tossed the jeans onto a chair, then drew her onto the bed.

  He kicked off his athletic shoes before joining her. Then he stretched out next to her and stared into her eyes.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he told her.

  “The things men say to get lucky.” She grinned. “But I choose to believe you.”

  “You should.”

  She was lovely. He let his gaze drift down her body. Her breasts were full and pale, threatening to spill out of her lacy bra. He could see toned muscle under smooth skin. There was a small gold hoop in her belly button that made his mouth go dry. Her legs were long and he had a sudden visceral image of himself between them.

  He returned his attention to her face, then bent down and kissed her. At the same time he reached behind her to unfasten her bra. She put a hand on his chest.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “You’re not naked. Naked is required.”

  “I have some important things I need to do.”

  “While I like the sound of that, fair is fair. You see mine, I see yours.”

  He chuckled. “I like how you think.”

  He stood up and took care of his clothes in a matter of seconds. When he moved next to her, she stroked his chest.

  “Nice,” she whispered.

  He kissed her and again moved his hand behind her back to her bra. This time she turned slightly to help him. When the hooks were free, she tossed the bra off to the side.

  Her breasts were perfect. Full and pretty, with tight coral-colored nipples. He knelt between her legs and bent over so he could cup her breasts in his hands. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her silky skin, then he brushed his thumbs against the tight tips.

  His body did its damnedest to remind him that paradise was only a few inches away. Pressure in his groin increased, but he ignored it. As much as he wanted his own release, he wanted to please Crissy more.