Confusion laced her tone. “But you have qualms about making love to me, why?” She sensed his reluctance to answer, praying he overcame his reservations long enough to tell her something she could live with.
“Because with you it’s different,” he said after awhile.
“How so?” His shrug should have annoyed her but she could tell he wasn’t comfortable with where their conversation was heading. “Are you afraid of something?”
Like most men, Mike didn’t like being accused of being afraid of anything and he tossed her a small frown. Emma only smiled sweetly until he mumbled something beneath his breath before dragging his eyes away. She wasn’t about to back down, sensing what he seemed unwilling to admit. He cared about her but to what degree? She decided the only way she was going to find out was to press him for answers. However, just as she opened her mouth his cell phone rang, and she felt an instant loss when he was forced to release her hand to reach for it.
“Yeah?”
She watched his changing expression, sensing that whoever was on the other end of the line was telling him something he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t say much, making a few sounds that indicated he understood before finally responding, “I’m five minutes away, I’ll be right there.”
Even before he turned her way she figured their evening was about to change. He pressed his foot to the gas, slightly accelerating their speed. “That was Mrs. Dawson; she stays with Melissa when I have to go out nights. Melissa’s sick. We’ll swing by to check it out.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Me too, Melissa’s never sick.” He offered her an apologetic smile. “I hate to say it but there’s a good possibility tonight’s off. Maybe I should drive you home first.”
“Nonsense. We’re closer to your home than mine. Besides, if she’s sick there might be something I can do to help.”
“Thanks. If I know Mrs. Dawson, she’ll want to take off as soon as I get there. She’s a sweet old lady but a hypochondriac—wears a surgical mask out in public and everything.”
Chapter 19
Before long, Mike pulled off onto a driveway marked private. The dark winding road was nothing more than strip of gravel with a ribbon of low cut grass running down the center of it. Green pines and maples blanketed in leaves the color of autumn, and white birch trees stood tall on either side like guardians in the night. Only the maple and birch were losing their leaves in preparation for winter.
An outside light gave Emma a good view of the rustic log cabin that was Mike’s home, which was located in a small clearing at the end of his driveway. Light coming from a large picture window revealed several chairs and a swing on the front porch that went from one corner of the house to the other. No sooner had they pulled along side the ancient station wagon parked in front did the screen door open and a woman appear in the threshold, wearing a worried expression on her cracked face. She was wringing her hands and looked like she was ready to bolt. Emma guessed her age to be somewhere close to sixty. Her short, plump stature and outdated floral dress was something straight out of the fifties, causing Emma to smile.
Mrs. Dawson waited patiently for them to exit the truck and stride closer to the porch before addressing Mike. “I’m sorry to ruin your evening but Melissa’s definitely not feeling well. It might be the flu or something. I think I should go.”
“Did she say what’s wrong? Does she have a fever?” He frowned, taking the porch steps two at a time.
“No, no fever. She’s complaining that her stomach hurts and she has a headache.” She stepped aside so he and Emma could enter. “It started right after you left. She begged me not to call you but if she has something contagious…”
“Mrs. Dawson, this is Emma Stuart,” Mike continued, walking toward the stairs. “I’ll be right down.”
All of a sudden Emma found herself alone with Mrs. Dawson, who turned for something hanging on a peg on the wall next to the stairs. There was no denying she was eager to leave. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson.” Emma placed her evening clutch on the small table next to the door.
“Same here, dearie. It’s been a long time since Mike has brought anyone nice home with him. The last time it was some red headed, please excuse my description, floozy type who dressed like a, well you know,” she whispered the last part, “lady of the evening.” She quickly slipped into her heavy wool coat.
Emma bit her bottom lip to keep it from curving upwards. The last thing she wanted was to insult Mrs.
Dawson by laughing at her description of Mike’s date when she sounded so serious about it.
“I’m sure what ails Melissa is nothing serious but a woman my age can’t be too careful you know, what with the cost of health care these days.” She reached for a large black purse the size of a small suitcase. “Mike will understand that I can’t stay after this; please tell him to call and let me know how Melissa is.” She headed for the door without a backward glance. “The poor dear.”
Before Emma knew it, she was left standing at the door, watching Mrs. Dawson’s one taillight as she drove slowly away. Closing the door against the chill, she turned in time to see Mike calmly walking down the stairs. He didn’t seem surprised to find her alone.
“I take it Mrs. Dawson couldn’t wait to fly out of here?” His hands made short work at pulling off his jacket and laying it over the banister.
Emma’s nod confirmed it. “How’s Melissa?”
The look on his face gave his frustration away. “She says the same thing Mrs. Dawson said, she has a bellyache but hasn’t been sick or anything.” He absentmindedly began tugging at his tie. Emma stepped forward when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, reaching for it. Their eyes met briefly as she began to work the knot loose.
“What’s wrong Mike? You don’t seem convinced of that.” She slowly pulled the tie from around his neck. He took it from her, surprising her by draping it around her neck and jerking her close.
“I’m not sure. She acted kind of strange, distant, for lack of a better word. Reluctant to discuss it other than to say she’d be okay and for me not to worry. I left her curled up in a little ball watching TV.”
“A stomach ache, huh?” Something clicked in Emma’s mind. Melissa was at that age where she could be experiencing her first time, which she knew, could be a very unpleasant and frightening experience. Especially for a young girl that didn’t have someone around to talk to about it. She leaned forward, kissing Mike on the chin before realizing what she was doing. “Would you like me to go up and see her?”
He seemed immediately relieved. “Would you mind? I have a feeling…” He glanced away nervously.
Was he blushing? “I think we have the same feeling,” she said softly, smiling in the face of his uncertain expression.
“I’m sorry your evening was ruined. I can’t even get you home now, but I can call someone.”
“My evening isn’t ruined and we’ll discuss how I’m going to get home later,” she cut in, turning to go up the stairs. “Which door?”
“Second on the left.”
Knowing Mike’s eyes were following her as she went upstairs, Emma purposely exaggerated the sway of her hips for his entertainment. His appreciative whistle was her reward and she tossed him a come hither look over her shoulder, blowing him a Lola kiss.
“You’re going to pay for that sweetheart,” he called up to her softly.
“I look forward to it,” she whispered back brazenly, just before reaching Melissa’s door. She hesitated, hoping her presence was welcome. “Melissa?” After knocking softly she opened the door a crack, listening for a response, “It’s Emma. May I come in?”
“Yes.” Her reply was low and pitiful sounding.
Emma closed the door behind her, skirting around the bed to the side Melissa was facing as she watched TV. Offering the girl a sympathetic smile she sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you having an unpleasant first time, honey?” She reached out and grasped her hand.
Melissa’s eyes widened as though Emma had just performed a miraculous act or something. “How did you know?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Reaching forward, Emma brushed the hair away from her pale face, noticing she felt a little warm in spite of what Mrs. Dawson said. “A lucky guess. You’re at that age.” Melissa made a face and clutched her belly. “Is there a heating pad in the house?”
“I think there’s one in the hall closet. Dad sometimes uses it on his leg.”
“I’ll be right back.” Emma found the hallway closet without any trouble, rummaging through the neat contents until she spied the heating pad at the bottom in a basket. After grabbing it she went to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet to see what Mike had in there for pain.
“Have you taken anything for the cramps yet?” she asked Melissa upon entering the room again. Shaking her head negatively, Emma handed her the pills she’d found, reaching for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand. “Take these, honey, they’ll help.”
“Will it be like this every month?” she whined in exaggerated misery, putting the empty glass down.
Emma smiled, quickly averting her face in the pretext of looking for an outlet for the heating pad. “It shouldn’t be now that you know how to treat it. The heating pad works wonders.” She sat back on the bed and set it on low. “This little trick is fail proof. Lay on your back, bend your knees and place this pad on your lower belly. The heat will draw out the pain and after awhile the cramps will be gone.”
Melissa did as she was instructed, allowing Emma to arrange one of the spare pillows beneath her knees. “Thank you.”
Emma sat back, smiling down at her. “Anytime honey, I’m glad I was around to help. Your dad was worried about you.”
“I was too embarrassed to tell him,” she admitted, blushing. “I tried to keep it from Mrs. Dawson but once she suspected I wasn’t feeling well I knew she’d call him. She has this phobia about being around sick people.”
“Yes I know; some people are like that.”
“I guess I ruined your evening. You look very pretty.”
“Thank you, and you didn’t spoil our evening. This way you and I get to know each other a little better. How did you do on your Roosevelt essay last week?”
“Roosevelt essay?” she frowned, her brows furrowing deeply with confusion. “But I didn’t…” Then she halted, all but bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. As her eyes rounded, it was that precise moment when Emma guessed the truth. She’d fibbed about having a report to do. As the seconds raced by she watched the varying emotions cross her young face, leaving her cheeks crimson. She lowered her eyes with obvious guilt. “Please don’t tell Dad.”
“Tell him what?” Emma encouraged in a neutral tone, needing to hear the truth. “What did you do honey?”
She refused to raise her eyes. “I kind of told a little white lie. I do have an essay to write but it’s not due until next Wednesday. I thought if I stayed home then you two could be alone with each other and, and maybe…” She shrugged her shoulders. “My dad’s crazy about you,” she blurted, changing the subject, causing Emma’s brows to arch high with surprise. “Do you like him?”
Emma rose to her feet, afraid their conversation was heading toward a dangerous topic she wasn’t ready to discuss with Mike’s daughter. “I don’t think we should be having this…”
“It’s true!” Melissa insisted, grabbing her by the hand to keep her from leaving.
Emma stared at her for a moment, a reluctant smile forming on her mouth. “How do you know that?”
She gave a small yawn, closing her eyes. “I just know. He’s been acting all weird lately and, well, I can tell you’re crazy about him too. Are you mad at me?”
She was crazy about Mike, but Emma wasn’t about to admit it to Melissa, at least not until Mike knew how she felt about him. Not about to encourage Melissa to continue Emma decided to change the subject and quick. “Of course not, sweetie. Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?”
Melissa shook her head without opening her eyes. “No, thank you.”
As Emma closed Melissa’s door, she couldn’t help wondering how a thirteen-year-old could make such an astute observation. Most girls her age were usually so wrapped up in themselves they thought the world revolved around them. She was halfway down the stairs when she paused with pleasant surprise, noticing several things simultaneously. A delicious aroma drifting up to her, a fire had been lit in the fireplace and the coffee table in front of it had been set up with two place settings.
“I can’t do anything about the dancing but the least I can do is replace the dinner you missed.”
Emma turned slightly to see Mike emerging from what she guessed was the kitchen, carrying a large tray in his hands. “It smells wonderful,” she said, joining him at the bottom of the stairs and following him to the living room. “You have a nice home, Mike. I like the décor. Did you do it all by yourself or did you get some assistance by that red headed floozy Mrs. Dawson told me about?”
He set the tray down and straightened, his eyes filled with amusement. “As a matter of fact I did it myself, thank you.” He closed the distance between them, a look of purpose in his eyes. “And we’re not really going to have a discussion about Lacy Jones, are we?”
“Lacy Jones?” Emma began to feel slightly nervous, but in a delicious way, when Mike reached forward. The trailing ends of his tie were resting on her breasts and his fingers teasingly brushed against them as he took hold of it.
“The red headed floozy,” he explained, slowly pulling her toward him. “How’s Melissa?”
“It’s what we both expected. I gave her some Tylenol and the heating pad. She could hardly keep her eyes open by the time I left.”
He gave a little jerk to his tie, which caused Emma to stumble against him. “I don’t know why she couldn’t have told me.” He sounded slightly disappointed.
As her head fell back, she met the growing desire in his eyes. “It’s a girl thing.” Her sigh became a moan as Mike purposely teased her sensitive nipples with his knuckles. He lowered his face, causing her to catch her breath.
“I’m glad you were here to help her.”
“Me too,” she agreed softly.
“And you know what else?”
“Our dinner is going to get cold?” she joked, focusing her eyes on his mouth. She was hungry and it wasn’t for food. Why didn’t he kiss her?
His mouth curved upward as though he knew what she was feeling. “I want to kiss you.”
His words caused her pulse to throb. “What’s stopping you?” she whispered, waiting patiently for his mouth to finally touch hers.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you until the time was right,” he responded without hesitation.
“And when will that be, detective?” she demanded to know in a silky voice.
The look in his eyes turned dark and lazy. “When I can kiss all of you.”
“Oh.” Emma couldn’t think of anything to say after that. She was sure the heat enveloping her body had nothing to do with the fire burning brightly in the hearth. Then her belly rumbled loudly, causing them both to laugh and relax. “I think my body’s trying to tell you something.”
Mike took her by the hand, pulling her with him to sit at the coffee table. Her eyes rounded with appreciation when he removed the lid of a silver dish, revealing two perfectly cooked omelets complimented with a side of what appeared to be homemade applesauce. She watched him uncork a bottle of wine and pour them each a glass. In spite of the fact that Melissa was upstairs sleeping everything was perfect. Furthermore, she found she’d much rather be there with Mike than on some crowded dance floor somewhere.
She smiled when he glanced her way, accepting the glass and taking a little sip. The long look they exchanged was full of heat and promise. It was just a matter of time before they made love and they both knew it. It was just a matter of time before she told Mike how she felt.
They ate i
n comfortable silence, watching each other. Several times Mike’s gaze fell to Emma’s mouth as it closed over her fork, turning the meaningless act into a sensual preliminary of things to come. Leaving the atmosphere charged with unspoken desires. She wondered what was going through his mind. His expression was hard to read, his eyes gentle and contemplative. It didn’t take long before she was feeling excited inside.
“What are you thinking?” Mike surprised her by asking, reaching for his glass.
“That you’re an excellent chef, that omelet was wonderful.” She sighed contentedly, skirting around the truth. There was no way she was going to acknowledge he’d turned her on by simply watching her eat. Dropping her fork she leaned back against the sofa, placing her hand on her full stomach.
“And that’s just one of my many talents,” he admitted, grinning like a lazy wolf with something devious on his mind.
“I can’t wait to see what the others are.” Reaching forward she scooped a dab of applesauce off her plate, bringing her finger toward her mouth. Mike’s hand shot out, catching her wrist, halting her in the process.
“Come here.” He effortlessly pulled Emma over until she was half lying across his lap, guiding her finger to his mouth at the same time. Their eyes clashed with mutual awareness as his mouth slowly closed over her finger, sucking it clean.
“You are talented!” she gasped, feeling her heart race.
Mike leaned back, stretching his legs out in an effort to get more comfortable while arranging Emma more intimately against him. The movement caused her short skirt to ride up the back of her legs, but when she reached to pull it back in place his hand was there to stop her.
She raised questioning eyes to him. His teeth flashed white against the dimly lit room, the fire dancing wickedly in his aroused eyes. “Don’t ruin the view,” he chastised, linking his hands loosely against the back of her waist. “You have very nice legs.”
Chuckling, she relaxed, placing her head against his chest and snuggling into his warm body. “It’s the stockings.” Emma had long ago slipped off her heels in favor of comfort. She caught her breath when Mike trailed his fingertips along the backs of her thighs, inching closer to the hem of her skirt. She wasn’t ticklish, but when a finger glided higher, beneath the material, she shivered with delicious pleasure.
Kiss Me Page 16
