by Sandy James
‘Bout time, I could hear Terri’s voice echo in my head.
After dinner Scott helped me load the dishwasher before he refilled our wineglasses and set them on the coffee table. He sat down on the couch, kicked off his shoes and grabbed my remote control. A Rangers game flickered to life on the flat screen.
Scott didn’t know I’d bought the television for him. The only screen I tended to look at was on my laptop. He’d tried to watch a game a few days before on my pitifully small television. Even though he hadn’t once complained, he’d squinted through the whole thing. I went shopping the next day, asking the salesman what would be the best TV for watching sports. Scott grinned like crazy when he first saw it, so I’d chosen well.
Plopping down next to him, I toed off my shoes and sidled up against his warmth, loving how he wrapped an arm around my shoulders without even taking his eyes off the TV. “Who’s winning?” I asked.
“My Rangers. But it’s only pre-season, so it really doesn’t count. We’ll kick ass when it does.”
Hockey might be captivating, but I tried to turn his attention. Leaning in closer, I started to brush little kisses and teasing licks against his neck. He resisted, eyes still glued to the television, which didn’t surprise me. I’d discovered tearing him away from a sporting event was next to impossible.
“Scott…” I nibbled on his ear.
“Hang on. It’s a power play.”
I threw him a frown he was clearly too distracted to see. How long did a stupid power play last?
When a commercial came on, I tried harder, softly blowing in his ear and then tickling it with my tongue until I finally got him to growl, toss down the remote and turn his face to me. Then I pressed my palms against his cheeks and captured his mouth for a real kiss, hoping I was more interesting than guys skating around a bit before punching each other in the face.
His tongue slipped between my lips at the same time I crawled over to face him and straddle his hips. I squeezed my thighs tight, loving the feel of him between them. We just fit.
He sure wasn’t watching hockey now.
Strong hands grabbed my waist as Scott rocked up against my center, mimicking the act we both wanted. Our moans mingled as did our tongues. God, how I loved kissing him, how wild we could get. I closed my eyes and let go, simply enjoying my feelings without applying any kind of sobering reality to the whole exchange. Besides, we were still playing by his rules. We never got further than heavy necking and quite a bit of maddening touching. Deep inside, I hoped one day soon Scott would round second, pass third and head for home. But not tonight…
A little squeal popped out when Scott suddenly stood up and flipped me to press my back against the couch. He settled himself between my thighs and propped himself on his elbows, sheltering me from his weight. Blue eyes bored into mine. “You feel so good.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
He kissed me, sliding his tongue over mine before pulling away and nuzzling my neck. I melted like shaved ice in July. Pushing back, he rose on his knees to gaze down at me with a wicked smile that sent delicious heat to my gut. His hands covered my breasts and gave them a gentle stroke before moving to the buttons of my denim shirt.
Slowly, deliberately, he popped each button before he spread the shirt wide. Scott whipped his own shirt over his head then pressed down on top of me. Skin to skin was heaven. I wished he’d taken off my bra too.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, and he rubbed against me. “I want you, Scott,” I whispered in his ear.
“I want you too. I want to be inside you. Now. Let’s go to your room.”
Didn’t that just go figure. I’d been waiting patiently for this moment and had decided the greatest probability was that it would happen at the reunion. Planning for that, I’d shuffled my birth control pills around to get my period out of the way so I’d be prepared. Tonight was entirely out of the question. “Shit.”
Scott pushed himself up to stare into my eyes. The vulnerability in his gaze surprised me. “What?”
“I want you, Scott. I meant that. I’d like nothing better than to grab your hand and drag you back to my bed. But…” Tonight. He had to finally get serious tonight. Damn. Damn. Damn.
“But what, angel?”
I suddenly needed to know he felt what I felt, that this wasn’t just sexual frustration talking. “We’ve got the relationship thing going. That’s on track, right?”
He nodded.
“Are you really ready to take the next step?”
His pelvis pushed against mine. “I sure as hell am. God, I want you, Maddie. You’re ready too, right?”
“Ready?” I chuckled despite the irony of the situation. “I’m so far past ready…”
“Then why’d you say ‘shit’?”
A heavy sigh slipped out. “Because I got my period.” None of my heroines ever had this kind of ridiculous and embarrassing problem. When they wanted laid, they got laid. No periods. No fumbling around with birth control. No regrets. Just hot, sweaty, mutually satisfying sex.
Flippin’ period. Thanks to the pills, I only had four a year. But my timing, as always, was no less than impeccable.
“Oh. That.” His frown reminded me of a child who’d been told he couldn’t go to the circus. “Shit.”
“Exactly.”
Scott kissed me again and tried to roll away.
I locked my legs tighter around him. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“It’s okay, Maddie.”
After I turned him loose, he pulled me up to sit beside him. He drank his fill of looking at my breasts before he sighed and buttoned my shirt back up. As he pulled his own shirt back on, I reached over and pressed my hand against his groin, rubbing his erection. “I could…you know…take care of your frustration. Maybe give you a…a blow job or something.” Frustrated guys tended to like to lay the blame at the woman’s feet for not ending their sorry state. I sure didn’t want Scott mad at me because he thought I’d led him on then left him all wound up. Blow jobs weren’t my favorite thing, but I had a feeling I would love to give that kind of up close and personal attention to Scott. I was dying to see him in all his glory.
His eyes pressed tightly shut as he clearly considered my offer. “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
As if.
“Like any guy ever cares—”
The fierce glare he threw at me made me abruptly close my mouth so loud that my teeth clicked. “I’m not any guy. I’m the guy who cares about you. Asking for a blow job’s selfish. When we make love, it’ll be for both of us.”
Was this guy for real?
Scott stood up, reached down to clasp my hand and tugged me to my feet. “I should go. You’ve got work to do, and heaven knows I’ve got plenty waiting at home for me.”
“Still working on the car?”
“Always working on the car.”
As he slid his shoes back on, I grabbed the glasses, poured his wine down the sink and set my glass down next to the bottle. Then I topped mine off.
“Wanna have dinner tomorrow?” I asked.
“Of course.” His quick answer pleased me more than he could know. “But I have a surprise first. I’ll be by around six.”
Chapter Six
The surprise turned out to be the ’67 Mustang he’d talked about. It appeared to be in the middle of a total restoration judging from the patches of mismatched paint and the pride on Scott’s face when he showed the car to me. The time had come for him to give me lessons on how to drive a stick shift.
“It’s not that tough, Maddie. Clutch on the left. Brake in the middle. Gas on the right.” Scott tapped each pedal as he pointed them out. The whole thing didn’t look too difficult when he was sitting in the driver’s seat. I had doubts about how I’d feel when we switched places.
The mechanics of driving with a stick shift, I understood. What I didn’t comprehend was how I was supposed to coordinate three pedals, a gear shift and a steering wheel all while
paying attention to the road. Didn’t Scott recognize I could barely walk across a flat surface without falling on my face?
“I honestly don’t mind if you drive the whole way,” I finally said. “I’m not a nervous passenger. Worst thing I do is throw sarcastic comments at idiot drivers who deserve them. Not like I flip anyone off or anything.”
“I told you, I’ll be way too tired. Gotta work nights this week to get away for the reunion.” He flashed me that toothpaste commercial smile that always made my bones turn to Jell-O. “I’ll sleep while you drive. That way I won’t snore through the whole get-together or the dance. You want me at my best.”
“Maybe I could stop by and bring you some coffee while you work. Help you stay awake and all.” I wondered, yet again, exactly what his job was. My curiosity was killing me. I’d tried subtly asking, hoping to get him to drop even a few hints. Scott always sidestepped my inquisition with the finesse of a skilled bullfighter dodging a charging bull. Now, I was well beyond subtle. “I don’t understand why you won’t tell me where you work. You won’t even tell me what you do.”
“After the reunion. I’ll tell you after the reunion. Promise.”
“I still don’t understand, Scott.”
“Told you. I’ve gotta stay in character so I dazzle all your old classmates. If you find out where I work, might be a big disappointment. You wanted a downtown boy, you’re gonna get one.” His grin quickly turned the tables on me. “It’s not like you’ve told me where you work.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Telling me you work at home and that you’re a writer doesn’t really tell me much, does it? All I know is that you write romance. Haven’t found a single thing written by a Madalyn or Maddie Sawyer anywhere I searched, which means you’ve got a pen name you haven’t shared with me.”
How could I tell Scott about Kathryn West’s success? The wrong reaction, and the house of cards I was constructing for a future with him would come tumbling down. If he found out just how popular my books were, he’d figure out how much money I had squirreled away. Then he might think we didn’t belong together strictly because of our different incomes. “Fine. You win. I’ll drop it for now.”
Since writers make it their business to watch people—mostly to glean tidbits for future stories—I applied my observation skills to Scott, trying to pick up clues that he was something other than my blue-collar knight in shining armor. I couldn’t judge much by his high-tech cell phone. While they might have been a yuppie trademark a few years back, everyone carried one now. His clothes were mostly the same as what he’d worn to supper with his sister. Casual. I did have hopes he’d biker up for the reunion meet and greet, perhaps wearing the same sexy outfit he’d worn the night I met him at Trixie’s. I was, after all, hoping to show my old classmates what a wild woman I’d become.
As if.
Scott pulled the blue Mustang over in the middle of a fairly residential area. At least there wasn’t a ton of traffic, so once I got behind the wheel, I’d keep fatalities to a minimum.
“Okay, your turn.” He popped the shift out of gear, turned off the engine and pulled the parking brake. Keys dangled in front of me. “Let’s see how you handle my stick.”
Like I could let a loaded line like that simply wither and die on the vine. I pressed my palm against the front of his pants. “I think I can handle your stick quite well, thank you.”
His hand shot out to cup my neck and pull me to him. As his lips settled on mine, I surrendered to that incredible chemistry that seemed to have been bubbling between us from the moment we’d met. Pure fire.
Scott eased back first, his eyes closed as if he savored our kiss and my touch. God, but I loved that erection that grew against my hand. Then he said one word that sent my senses soaring. “Soon. When your…” He cleared his throat. “…you know…is done.”
As I eased my hand away, I thought I’d never understand why guys couldn’t even say the word period. I didn’t suppose he’d like it if I drove to the closest pharmacy and asked him to run in and grab me a box of tampons, but just pondering it brought a smile to my face.
I already had the reunion seduction plotted out in my overactive imagination. But then again, I wrote spicy love scenes for a living. After the meet and greet—where Scott would drink a sufficient amount to feel good but not get blotto—I would parade him around the girls who’d treated me like shit. He’d hang on my every word and keep his muscular arm with that fantastic tattoo draped around my shoulder as he whispered what they’d think were erotic things in my ear. I wonder if I can make myself blush on cue?
We’d leave arm in arm. Then I would pounce on him as soon as we got back to the hotel room to thank him for being the perfect escort. I’d don my new red negligee with strategically placed lace to pique his interest. The sex would be mind-blowing. Scott would immediately ask for my hand in marriage and proclaim me as his one and only true love. In my entirely adolescent fantasy, he would have thought ahead enough to purchase a diamond, the size small yet very appropriate for a working class groom.
Damn, but I really needed to write all that nonsense down.
Scott crawled out of the driver’s seat, walked around to my side of the Mustang and opened the door for me. I’d quickly gotten used to being treated like royalty. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of my father.
“Thanks,” I said as I got out of the car.
He dangled the keys again. I grabbed them and clenched them in my fist. “Let’s see what you can do,” Scott said with a wink.
Once settled inside the car, he started calling out orders like a Marine drill sergeant. “Press in the clutch and keep your foot on the brake.”
“How am I supposed to push both at the same time?”
His eyes rolled in that way guys did when they figured a woman was being dense. “Left foot on the clutch, right foot on the brake. Then gently let up on the brake and slide your right foot over to the gas.”
I turned over the engine and took my foot off the clutch. The next step was to peel myself off the back of the seat after the car lurched forward, probably giving us both future neck pain. The engine died, and all I could do was stare at the dash and wonder what the hell had happened. “Oopsie.”
Figuring Scott would give me an earful of pissed off because I’d killed his prized somewhat refurbished ’67 Mustang, I was shocked to hear him laugh.
“Whiplash aside, that wasn’t bad for a first attempt. Better than my sister when I tried to teach her. Let’s go again.”
At least it didn’t take too long before I was actually driving the thing in big circles around the block. Scott was an amazing and patient teacher, and somewhere in the evolutionary part of my DNA, I started to fantasize about what a great father he’d be one day. I’d definitely let him be the one to teach our kids to drive. He was far more tolerant than I could ever claim to be. Plus, he’d single-handedly raised two younger brothers and a sister. Experience was always a plus.
After several successful loops, I brought the Mustang to a stop and turned to face Scott. “Well? How’d I do?”
“C+. Room for improvement, but you should be fine for getting us on and off the interstate and keeping between the lines on the stretches.”
Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I set them in Scott’s outstretched palm. “Let me buy you dinner. You know, to thank you for the driving lesson.” In the times we’d gone out, he always insisted upon paying our way, and man, that made me feel guilty. I simply kept offering and insisting I share the burden of expense, and he just kept paying.
“Maddie… You know what I said…”
I dropped my voice as low as I could manage, adding some vibrato to make my squeaky voice sound masculine. “A man’s pride gets wounded if he doesn’t take care of his woman.”
His laugh always sounded so genuine. “Thank you for protecting my fragile masculine pride.” He reached out to run the back of his knuckles over my cheek. “You’ll be ready when I pick you up Friday mornin
g?”
The reunion was upon us, and although I’d have Scott by my side, I still wasn’t sure I was ready to face all my ghosts. I simply nodded.
“It’ll be fine, angel. We’ll have a nice time.”
I took a hard swallow. “You won’t mind meeting my parents?”
I’d never dragged a boyfriend home to meet Mom and Daddy. When I’d called to tell them I was coming back to Pottsville for the reunion, Mom had insisted I stay with them. Like I’d do that to Scott. Mom had five cats that ran the house. I lied, saying that Scott was allergic, and made reservations at one of the two crappy motels in the whole benighted town purely to spare Scott from my parents’ version of the Spanish Inquisition. Mom had bluntly asked whether I was serious about him. I made the mistake of being honest, which meant she demanded we at least come by so they could meet him.
“Not at all,” he replied. “Looking forward to seeing where you came from and find out how far the apple fell from the tree.”
“Not nearly far enough.”
“Will you be mad if we don’t go out tonight after all? If it doesn’t hurt your feelings, I’ll skip dinner tonight and grab some fast food. I’ve got lots of work to do.”
“No pouting. I understand. There’s always work for me too.”
Scott drove me home, gave me a heated kiss at the door and told me he’d pick me up in the morning.
I spent the rest of the evening wondering what the reunion held in store and holding off an anxiety attack.
* * *
I dreamt about my brother Jack that night, probably because I was heading back to Pottsville. The dream took a familiar path, the same one I’d traveled more times than I could remember since his death.
Jack leaned over my shoulder as I worked on my laptop. “What’cha working on, Maddie?”
I didn’t even turn to look at him as I pounded on the keyboard. “You know what I’m working on, Jack. Another book. This one’s a great story.”
“Then why are you thinking about me? Shouldn’t you think about Ryan Reynolds or Henry Cavill when you’re writing your hero?”
