"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought you were spending the evening with your mother."
"I decided not to. I kept thinking about this house -- wondering what would happen to it. I thought you were going to a bachelor party."
"I did. It wasn't any fun. I kept thinking about this house and about you -- wondering what was going to happen to us."
She drew in a breath at the desire in his eyes. They were alone in the big old house. No kids. No rules. No one who knew where they were or what they were doing. No one to tell them it was wrong. Except themselves.
"There is no us," she whispered.
"There could be. I want you, Joanna. You. No one else but you."
She wanted to believe him, "Are you sure?"
"When I went to sleep last night, I tried to picture Angela's face in my mind. But it was your smile I saw, your nose, your eyes, your hair, and all the other things that are just you -- the way you tilt your head to one side when you're thinking about something, the way you talk so thoughtfully, choosing your words with care, the way you smell like a summer garden, not a perfume shop."
"Michael, stop."
"Why? So you can keep fighting me?"
"You should be fighting me. There are so many other people involved."
"I don't want to make love to them, only to you."
She drew in a sharp breath. "I want that, too, but I'm scared. Getting involved with you is a big risk. I don't want to get hurt."
"And I don't want to hurt you. I just want to be with you."
His words were simple, straightforward, and they pushed her over the edge she'd been clinging to. "All right. Yes."
"Yes?" He echoed her word in disbelief.
She stood up. Michael moved forward. Their lips came together in one long, hungry kiss that turned into a dozen more. His mouth was warm, insistent, loving, taking her exactly where she wanted to go. She didn't feel cold anymore. She felt deliciously warm. Michael slipped his hands through her hair, tangling the long strands between his fingers.
She worked at the knot in his tie until it came loose, then unfastened the buttons on his shirt, eager to touch him without any barriers. When the buttons were undone she slipped her hands against his skin, running her fingers through the dark hair on his chest. She loved the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. All of her senses were coming together in one bountiful feast.
She gasped as Michael's hands moved beneath her sleeveless sweater, running up her rib cage, until he was cupping her breasts, all the while kissing her, sliding his tongue in and out of her mouth, generating long, tingling shivers of sensation that ran from her mouth to her breasts, to the inner sides of her thighs, until she felt completely spineless.
Michael pulled the sweater over her head, then gazed down at her full breasts swelling out of the lacy ivory cups of her bra. He bent his head and kissed the upper curve of her breast, sliding his mouth into the valley between them. She found herself pressing her hands down on his shoulders, wanting him to taste even more of her.
He flipped open the clasp of her bra, and slowly, slowly spread the lacy edges. He cupped her breasts with his hands and slid his fingers back and forth until her nipples ached for his touch.
Finally he lowered his head and kissed her, drawing one nipple between his lips, between the gentle tug of his teeth until she gasped with pleasure. She thought she could surely die happy at this moment, in his arms. Then his hands moved to the button on her skirt, and she knew she wasn't ready to die just yet.
Her skirt slid down her hips, revealing a matching pair of lace undies, which Michael peeled away. The air felt cool against her heated skin, until his fingers returned to the triangle of hair between her thighs, and he made his way through the tight curls, caressing, coaxing, until all she could think of was the tug of his mouth on her breast and the aching place between her legs.
"I want you, Michael," she muttered.
He slipped his fingers inside her.
She tensed at the warm, sliding sensation. The tension built, and she could do nothing but cling to his shoulders until her body shook and trembled against him.
He lifted his head from her breasts and pulled her against his chest.
"I -- I couldn't wait for you," she said.
"Honey, we're just getting started."
He bent to kiss her lips, and she reached for his belt buckle. She quickly loosened the belt, undid the top button, and slid down the zipper.
Michael dropped his briefs along with his slacks, then shed his shirt and slipped her bra off her shoulders. "Now this is better."
"Much better," she agreed, leaning forward to kiss him.
"Wait."
She looked at him in surprise. "Why?"
He reached for his pants, for his wallet, for the square foil packet inside. Protection. She'd forgotten all about it, but he had come prepared. Had he expected this or just hoped? Suddenly there were doubts.
He read them in her eyes. "Don't."
"Michael -- "
"Shhh." He covered her protest with his mouth and pulled her against the length of him, until they were skin to skin, breast to breast, hip to hip.
He cupped her buttocks as he slid his tongue back into her mouth. She caressed the length of him, stroking the velvety tip, feeling him harden beneath her touch.
He drew her over to the old couch. He put on the condom, then sat down, drawing her on top of him, leaning back until her body covered his like a blanket. He lifted her, then brought her down on top of him. She met his lips with a glad cry as he thrust inside her. They moved together in a mindless rhythm that was easy, natural, and utterly perfect. When the tension built again he called her name, and she called his, and they went over the edge together.
Chapter Twenty
A half hour later, Joanna and Michael walked down to the kitchen, hoping to find some water to drink. Michael looked at the country oak table, then tipped his head thoughtfully in her direction.
Her eyes widened at the returning desire in his eyes. "I don't think so. The couch in the attic was daring enough for me."
"You are so much like me, it's incredible."
"Like you? I'm not like you. You're the one with all the big ideas. In fact..." She laughed as she reached for the bulge in his pants. "You're the one who's just plain big."
"Because of you," he growled, "I've taken more cold showers in the last week than any man should have to take in a lifetime."
"Poor guy."
"That's right. And I think you should apologize."
He lifted her up and sat her down on the tabletop, spreading her legs so he could stand between them.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked with a shiver of anticipation.
He laughed. "Believe it or not, I have no idea, but I think we can come up with something fun."
She cupped his face with her hands. "You really haven't been this bold before?"
He shook his head. "I always felt I had to be responsible, safe, plan things out ahead of time. I couldn't be spontaneous because someone had to hold down the fort."
"But Angela was spontaneous. Surely the two of you made love everywhere." Joanna didn't know why she asked. She hated to even bring up Angela's name, but the woman always seemed to be between them.
"Angela and I were kids when we got together. Even though she longed for a wild life, she was a well-protected Italian Catholic girl. That's why we got married young, instead of just having sex," he said with a wry smile. "Because I was older than Angela, I felt I had to take care of her, that she needed me to make the decisions. We fell into a pattern that way. After we had kids, our love life diminished. I was busy. Angela was tired. I know she started thinking about other men, wondering what it would be like to be with someone else, since I was her one and only lover."
"Surely she didn't say that to you."
"When we were fighting she'd say all kinds of things. Angela spoke first
and thought second." He shrugged. "Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn't give her a chance to grow up, to experience life. Maybe I screwed up her life."
She ran her hand down the side of his face. She loved that he spoke with honesty, that his words rang true even to the point of incriminating himself, but she didn't believe he had ruined Angela's life. "We're all to blame for the messes that occur in our lives. Ultimately we make our own decisions or we let others make our decisions, which is a decision in itself."
"Angela was too young to make a decision."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I think her parents do. They hold me responsible for everything that happened, even her death."
"They know you weren't responsible for her death."
"Sophia might," he admitted. "But Vincent ordered me to take care of his daughter, and I let him down. Our relationship has never been the same since."
She didn't want to think or talk about the De Lucas. She wanted to go back to where they'd been before, making love, lost in each other's bodies.
"Joanna." Michael tilted her chin with his hand. "I'm glad you came here tonight, that we found each other."
"Even if it's only for tonight?" she asked, already anticipating the bittersweet pain of parting that would come with the morning.
"Who says it's only for tonight?" He played with a strand of her hair. "I've been thinking."
"Uh-oh."
He smiled. "Maybe you should meet the De Lucas. Sophia and Vincent are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary tomorrow night."
"I don't know. I went to their house this morning, but I only saw Tony. He said they weren't there. I'm not sure that was true. He made it pretty clear he didn't want me to come back."
"That's his problem."
"It will be yours, too."
"Joanna, I don't want to hide what we feel for each other. I don't want to conduct this love affair in a dark closet."
"We're not having a love affair."
"I want to." His eyes turned serious. "The girls already love you."
"Think what people will say," she protested. "It's going to get messy. They'll think you're trying to replace Angela with her double."
"I don't care what they say. We know the truth."
"We still don't know if I'm somebody's skeleton in the closet. I can't just show up at this party. I could scare the hell out of someone."
He hesitated. "You might scare some people, and I don't want to spoil Vincent and Sophia's anniversary. But we're going to deal with this soon. I promise you that."
She appreciated his determination, but she saw only problems ahead. "What you can't promise is a happy ending for any of us."
"You're being cynical."
"I'm being realistic. If someone gave me away I'm not sure I could forgive them. And if my mother lied to me all these years, I'm not sure I could forgive her. I don't know if I could be with either family. And you are as much a De Luca as the rest of them. Lily and Rose are De Lucas."
"Lily and Rose and I are Ashtons."
"Michael -- " she began again.
His finger touched her lips. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Don't think. Don't worry."
"You mean I should stop breathing?" she asked.
"If that's what it takes." He paused. "Actually you could think about one thing."
"What's that?"
"Taking off some of your clothes. It's getting hot in here," he said as he kissed her lips.
She smiled. "Now that I can do something about."
It took only a minute to shed their clothes. Michael pulled her to the edge of the table. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted to feel as if they were one person again and again, until she couldn't remember what loneliness felt like.
Later, they made their way outside, spending the rest of the night wrapped in a quilt on the edge of the cliff behind Ruby Mae's house. It was an unseasonably warm summer night, with only a slight chill as the hours of darkness headed toward dawn.
The sound of the ocean gave them peace. The dazzling array of stars overhead provided inspiration, and in each other's arms they found the missing piece of themselves.
"I always knew it would be like this," Joanna said, resting her head on Michael's shoulder, "when I finally found the right guy. I just didn't think it would take so damn long,"
"Maybe you were too picky,"
"If you'd met David you wouldn't say that. Or Harry or Winston or Conrad."
"Didn't you date anyone named Joe or Sam?"
"You don't find too many of those guys hanging out at the library. They always seem to be on the baseball field or the basketball court."
"You're not saying you don't like sports," he said in mock horror.
"I love baseball. My dad used to take me to the Giants games. We always went to opening day together.''
"You miss him, don't you?"
"Yes, but life goes on." She paused. "Do you believe in fate? I mean, look at us. How strange that we would meet, that we would come together at this moment in our lives. It must have been destiny."
"Or Mariah. The kids swear it was her idea that they go to school," he said.
"Maybe it was Mariah. I'd like to believe there is a little magic in everyone's life."
"Magic, huh?"
She felt his smile against her hair and lifted her head to look into his eyes. "You're not going to go all modern and pragmatic on me, are you? I know you have a romantic streak."
"Says who?"
"Says me." She kissed his mouth.
He gave her a serious look. "Joanna, I don't want you to think I'm someone I'm not. I might appreciate historic buildings, but I still have to make a living. They're still going to tear down the Stratton Hotel, and I'm going to design a skyscraper for Gary Connaught. It's what I do, and I'm good at it."
She sighed. "I know, but I think you'd be just as good at restoring something. Haven't you ever wanted to try that angle?"
"Maybe a long time ago." He tipped his head. "You're the one who should be out there fighting for the old buildings. Why aren't you in the historical society? Why aren't you peppering the building department with protests like every other San Francisco preservation fanatic?"
"I don't know. I never thought I could make a difference."
"You could."
She smiled, pleased with his show of respect. "Maybe I'll think about it. After handling six-year-olds this summer, politicians would be a piece of cake."
"Speaking of six-year-olds, did Lily and Rose show any signs of nervousness when their cousin Marlena picked them up from school?"
"Oh, no. They were filled with excitement about their sleep over. They talked nonstop about it."
"They weren't scared about being away from home?"
"Not at all. And Marlena is a delightful young woman. Who does she belong to?"
"Vincent's brother Louis. She's his oldest daughter."
"She seemed very responsible."
"She is, and I am extremely happy that Marlena's younger sister Andrea decided to have a sleep-over birthday party."
"I'll bet." She rested her head on his chest. "Do you want to go inside?"
"No."
"Neither do I."
"See, we agree about everything important,"
"I don't know about everything."
Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of the crickets.
"Joanna, what if you find out you're a De Luca? What then?"
She shivered at the thought. "I don't know."
"Promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Don't let it come between us," he whispered.
Her heart stopped at the passionate, tender plea. She wanted to promise that nothing would come between them, but she couldn't. Not yet.
* * *
Michael awoke with a smile on his face. It had been a long time since he had slept with such contentment. As he stretched, Joanna stirred against his shoulder. He'd probably have a kink in his neck all
day, but it was worth it. They were good together. Joanna seemed to know what he was thinking before he thought it. There had been nothing awkward about their lovemaking. No stilted moments, no long pauses, no wondering if he was making the right move.
He shifted slightly so he could look at her face, bathed in early morning sunlight.
He no longer saw Angela when he looked at Joanna. The two had become distinct in his mind, just as Lily and Rose were identical only to strangers, not to him. His daughters would be thrilled to have him and Joanna get together. They would be happy to have a mother again. But was it fair to ask Joanna to step into a ready-made family, to play out someone else's role? He hoped so.
He wanted everything with her. He wanted to go to bed with her and wake up with her. He wanted to be her partner, her lover, her friend. But would he have to choose between Joanna and the De Lucas?
Could life really be that cruel?
Of course, it could. Didn't he have firsthand experience with just such cruelty?
"Mm-mm," Joanna said with a smile, her eyes still closed. "If this is a dream I don't want to wake up."
"It's not a dream," he murmured.
She blinked sleepily, lazily, tenderness and love filling her eyes as she looked into his face. "Morning."
"Morning yourself."
"I can't believe we slept out here." She sat up and stretched. "You must have been uncomfortable with me on your shoulder all night."
He sat up and flexed his arm. "I think I'll live. You might have to kiss it and make it fee! better."
She leaned over and kissed him on the biceps. "Anything else hurt?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
"Yeah, my neck."
She scooted in close to him so she could trail her lips against his neck. Then he pointed to his lips, and she followed accordingly.
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, deepening the kiss, teasing her lips with his tongue, until she smiled against his mouth.
"If you're planning on leaving any time soon, you better stop right now," she said.
"I don't think I ever want to leave."
Ask Mariah Page 22
