Bridget’s nose wrinkled. “How’d McGuffy get into this?”
Julia pointed to the next block. “Every day for the last two months he’s parked his big red truck in front of my studio. How’s anyone supposed to see Photos By Julia when McGuffy Movers blocks the way.”
“I take it you asked him to park elsewhere?”
“I’d like to tell him to park it where the sun doesn’t shine. But he likes that spot, says it’s a good place for advertising since it’s across from Stan’s Garden Store and next to The Book Nook. I just wish McGuffy would park somewhere else.”
Bridget turned back to Julia. “Would you forget McGuffy, for crying out loud, and think sexy, naturally potent younger man.”
Julia sneered at the truck. “I have a business to think about. I have to make a living, and I have a nice summer navy linen suit that will do just fine—ohmigod!”
Bridget grinned. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You had an epiphany, an estrogen awakening. I knew you’d cave, no scratchy linen, but soft sexy silk. Marc’s such a hunk. Make him drool, make him hard as a rock, make him—”
“He’s moving?”
“Marc’s moving here?”
Julia turned Bridget around and pointed a shaky finger down the street. “Look. McGuffy. He’s moving his truck.”
“I’m glad that you’re glad, now about the drool and the hard-on.”
Julia huffed. “Don’t you see a pattern? All the crazy things that have happened today? There’s something going on, Bridge.”
“Yeah, you got divorced, and you got a hot date with a Playgirl centerfold all in the same day. Life is good, better than it’s been in a really long time for you. No one’s getting their picture taken today, too hot. Get your nails done, buy condoms, do you have a garter belt?”
“It’s only a date!”
“The man looked at you as if you were the last woman on earth. He buttoned his coat.”
“So? He’s a professional, probably has a gun.”
Bridget winked. “Yeah, I just bet he has a gun. A nice big one—”
“Bridget! I can’t just jump into the sack with someone I don’t know anything about.”
“He’s a friend of Cal’s, he seems like a good guy, and he’s smart, and God knows he’s handsome enough. The guy’s hot for you. Go for it. Go for him.” She kissed Julia on the cheek. “I’ve got to tutor a kid on ancient history or he’s not going to be a senior come September.” Bridget started off and called over her shoulder. “Think hot chickie.”
Julia watched Bridget leave and thought, I’m nuts for going on this date. The only thing I know about hot chickie is barbecued wings on the grill. What the heck have I gotten myself into?
Two
At ten o’clock as Julia gazed across the table bedecked in white linens and pretty china at the Old Orchard Inn to oh-so-handsome Marc Adams in a taupe sports jacket and cream shirt, she knew exactly what she’d gotten into…the most boring date on the face of God’s green earth.
“The baked chicken was very tasty,” she said as she sipped her decaf cappuccino, her cheek muscles aching from the smile plastered on her face through salad, entrée, and coffee.
“Yes,” Marc replied, his own fake smile starting to quiver.
What the heck was she doing here? She’d been divorced only ten hours. Didn’t she need some downtime? Time to rebound? A time without a man in her life? Actually, she’d been doing that for over a year now. And not associating with men more had been a really bad idea because now she had no idea what to do on a date, especially a date with Marc. They had nothing, not one darn thing, in common. Why couldn’t Marc be a woman? They could talk fashion, diets, Oprah. She had completely lost her other-gender communication skills.
“The coffee is…fresh,” Marc added to their attempt at conversation.
“The espresso is wonderful. Was your apple pie good?”
“Yes, very good.”
Well, they exhausted the pie and coffee subject. Now what? She’d never been to Cleveland or been a PI; he’d never been married or lived in a small town. After their discussion on cameras that lasted ten minutes, and Delicious and Cal that lasted five more, dead silence had followed them on their short walk from her apartment over her studio to the inn.
Marc might be giving her his best fake smile, but under it he looked pained, as if sitting on a tack. First time she ever had that effect on a guy. Even Frank never looked that uncomfortable; he just looked apathetic. She should give up guys. Julia Dempsey was not the Marilyn Monroe of Delicious, Ohio.
Marc put his napkin on the table. “Are you ready to go?”
About an hour ago, she thought and said, “Yes,” trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice.
She didn’t wait for him to slide back her chair. She stood, needing to get this torture over as quickly as possible for both their sakes.
Then he put his warm hand to the small of her back, guiding her, and she suddenly felt…tingly? Maybe body parts had fallen asleep during dinner. Except she also felt…excited? Really excited. Indigestion? Indigestion never felt like this.
A waiter passed, and to avoid him Marc stepped closer to her. His thigh brushed hers, his firm chest connected with her shoulder, and his arm slid farther around her waist. Heat pulsed deep inside where nothing had pulsed for a really long time. Truth be told, she thought her pulsing days were over, no matter what Cosmo said.
She felt totally off balance and light-headed. She tripped, and Marc caught her. Her legs refused to work, and her body sagged a little closer to his. He asked, “Are you okay?”
His breath fell gently across her face, and the aroma of his after-dinner brandy filled her head. No, I’m not okay at all! “Yes.”
He smiled a really great, sincere smile that curled her toes into her sensible pumps.
“Too much froth on the cappuccino?”
Too much froth between her ears. She’d just met Marc Adams, they had a date they’d both like to forget ever happened, and suddenly she wanted to tear his clothes off and salivate over every lovely inch of his naked body.
She shook her head, hoping thoughts of Marc and sex would dislodge. She straightened her linen suit. Then she straightened his tie.
Why’d she do that? Her fingers lingered at his throat, the heat from his skin warming hers. He swallowed, she did the same, and her gaze went from his well-defined, clean-shaven chin, over his seductive lips, his slightly crooked nose and locked with his…blue, dark as night, sensual, back-lit with passion.
Holy crap! “Thanks. I’m fine now.”
What a whopper! She was…horny? As if over a year of sexual deprivation suddenly caught up with her all at once. Marc looked as if he felt that way, too, though she seriously doubted the cause was the same. What did cause him to look like that? Her? How could that be? But there sure didn’t seem to be anyone else around for Marc to get the hots over. Their waiter was sixty and bald.
Now what? What should she do when they got to her apartment? Marilyn Monroe would know what to do. Too bad the only thing she and Marilyn had in common was they both wore a size fourteen.
Sweat beaded across her lip as they started for the door until a young woman in a flowered dress approached. She blocked their way and nervously pushed a strand of long blond hair from her face. “Julia? Julia Simons?”
“I was…until this afternoon. It’s Dempsey now. Do I know you? I’m sorry. My brain’s been a little scrambled today.” And tonight, she added to herself. Especially tonight.
“I’m Sally McLean and live over in Harvest Grove, but I’m here visiting friends.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I joined MRS. I thought it was a good idea but now…” She licked her lips. “Larry’s come back again and…” She spread her hands wide. “I don’t know what to do.”
Her eyes clouded. Julia knew this feeling and this look. Could have been part of her autobiography. She turned to Marc. Now was her chance to get rid of him and avoid any complications at the apartment when he dro
pped her off. That was good because now there’d be no complications, and that was bad because now there’d be no complications. Was being single always this difficult?
She said to Marc, “I had a great evening.” At least the last minute or so was pretty darn great. Confusing, but still great. “I want to talk to Sally for a few minutes, and I can walk myself back to my studio and—”
“Has he done this before,” Marc asked Sally, ignoring Julia. He nodded at the table they’d just vacated, then put his hand to the small of Sally’s back and led her in that direction. Julia followed, eyeing Marc’s strong hand to Sally’s narrow waist. Julia’s jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed. She gulped back a little growl crawling its way up her throat. Wait, she didn’t growl. Even over Frank at Club Med, she didn’t growl. She cussed a lot and sold his Jag that he’d put in her name for some tax reason, but she didn’t growl.
Marc swiped a chair from another table for Sally as Julia reclaimed her own chair, feeling a little left out. That made no sense at all since Sally came to see her, not Marc, right? Hey, if she were Sally, which one would she rather see? Julia eyed the most gorgeous hunk of man north of the Ohio River. What a dumb, dumb question.
“Is he cheating on you?” Marc asked. “How many times do you intend to take him back?”
Humm, Julia thought. The direct approach, the manly way of doing things. Julia opened her mouth to say something, but Marc said, “Do you have any children? Have you done counseling?”
Julia wondered why Marc Adams was so into this, and Sally said, “Larry’s taken off twice before, then says he’s sorry and that we’re okay so he doesn’t need counseling. We have a baby.”
Marc drummed his fingers on the table. Sincerity and concern lined his face. “How long do you think it will be before he takes off again? Think what kind of message this sends to your child? Do you want it to be ‘mates can come and go at will and that’s fine’?”
Julia added, “You need to show Larry that the front door is not a revolving door for his convenience.”
“I told him that, but he says this is his house, too. Where he lives.”
“Show him he doesn’t live there just because his things are there. Get rid of them. Give away his golf clubs. Nothing tells a man he doesn’t live here anymore like tossing out the golf clubs.”
“He doesn’t golf, but he has a riding lawnmower he loves.”
Marc said, “You might need that.”
“Fishing rod?” Sally offered.
“Bingo,” Julia said. “I suggest my personal favorite place to get rid of things, eBay.”
Marc gave Sally a dazzling grin that made Julia think, Smile at me like that.
Sally fiddled with the napkin on the table. “What if he has a fit?”
Marc said, “He’ll know you mean business and that you’re not sitting back and doing nothing so he can have his way. Marriage is a two-way street, and he can either shape up or ship out.”
“But I love him?”
Marc leaned forward and gave Sally a long, hard look. “Can you really love someone who treats you like this? You have to love yourself and respect yourself first.”
Julia said, “It’s your call, but think if waiting for Larry is how you want to spend the rest of your life.”
Sally looked from Julia to Marc and back again. “I knew the answer before I even came to you; I just needed to hear it out loud.” She smiled at Julia. “It’s great you have a boyfriend who understands you so well and what you do. You make a great team, and a great couple. You both have that same hungry look. Larry and I used to have that, but we don’t anymore.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, and Julia said, “Try and get Larry to counseling, but if he won’t go, you go, then decide what’s best for you and your baby.” Julia opened her purse and took out a business card. “Call me.”
What hungry look, Julia wondered as she watched Sally leave. Probably caused from passing up the apple cheesecake for dessert. Then she cut her eyes to Marc, and the hunger in her gut had nothing to do with cheesecake and everything to do with the yummy man across from her.
“I didn’t know you were into the problems of divorce,” she said, trying to keep impure thoughts out of her brain at a family restaurant.
“My dad told my mom one lie after another to serve his own purpose. She finally learned the truth and divorced the bastard.” He sent her one of his incredible smiles, the kind she wished for. “Everyone deserves the truth; it’s one of the reasons I went into the PI business.”
Marc took her hand, his strong fingers wrapping gently around hers. “I respect what you do, Julia. You help people get through rotten mates and difficult times.” He leaned toward her, his lips not far from hers. “I find that totally refreshing. Something I don’t run into very often.” He kissed her hand. “Ready?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Her brain fogged from his nearness, making thought processes impossible. Until the last ten minutes the only thing between them had been strained conversation. Then he touched her, making her senses come alive. The brass chandeliers overhead gleamed, the food smelled heavenly, the flowers on the tables radiant. Sally showed up and the connection grew. Marc was more than a PI; he was a PI with heart and a lot of soul and compassion…not to mention a killer smile. “Ready for…?”
He gave her a suggestive look through lowered lids. “Are you ready to go?”
“Oh.” They stood, and he didn’t release her hand. Now what was she going to do when she got back to her apartment? A kiss? Marc Adams looked like a man who had more than a kiss on his mind, and right now she wasn’t sure she had a mind.
Never, in all her life, had she felt so strongly attracted to a man in such a short period of time. Maybe because she was divorced today, or maybe because she’d been manless for over a year. Or maybe because any woman with an ounce of estrogen in her veins would have the hots for Marc Adams.
She followed him into the entrance hall, empty at eleven-thirty, but instead of going outside into the muggy July night, he stopped in front of the coatroom. “We should get your coat.”
“I didn’t bring one. It’s July. No coats. There’s a folding screen in front of the room in case someone forgets. Are you okay?”
“We should check anyway. Maybe you brought a coat and don’t remember.” He gave a quick look around, then took her hand and led her behind the partition.
“What the heck are you doing?” she whispered as she looked at tables, chairs, rugs and furniture stacked in storagelike confusion, nearly filling the small room.
“Losing patience,” he whispered back as he slid between two tall highboy dressers. Then he stopped and pulled her into his arms and gave her a quick kiss. “God,” he said on a ragged breath as he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that since we talked at the fountain.”
She felt her eyes widen. “You have?”
“Sort of.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, slower this time, seducing her lips into an erotic dance she didn’t realize she knew, making her heart pound in time with a sensual rhythm.
“Now, that,” he said, his voice even more ragged than before, “is really what I wanted.” His lips caressed hers, kicking the rhythm up a notch. “But without clothes.”
Her mouth went dry. “This is a little sudden.”
“You’re not the one who’s been in a state of debilitating lust since noon.”
Her eyes widened to her hairline. “For me?”
He kissed her again, coming closer as he wrapped his arms around her, his erection pressing hard into her belly. Yikes, question answered. Been a while since she felt one of those.
“What…what if someone comes in?”
“You just said no coats this time of year, and this place is obviously used for storage during restorations.” He nipped her bottom lip. “No one’s restoring anything tonight.”
That’s what you think, she said to herself. Frank had left because she wasn’t exciting, because she b
ored him. And after hearing that enough times, she believed him…until right now as Marc’s warm hands slid under her sensible cream blouse, making her quiver head to foot.
Suddenly she didn’t give a rat’s rump what Frank thought, because, according to the incredibly handsome and dynamite kisser, Marc Adams, Frank was dead wrong.
She dropped her purse on the floor. This time she kissed Marc, loving the feel of his mouth on hers. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. Not just with his body against hers, but the way he held her, complimented her, lusted after her, all making her feel like a real woman again.
Her hips arched against him, her body having a mind of its own that completely lacked basic common sense and wallowed in sexual decadence. It had taken forty-one years and Marc Adams for her to realize she even had sexual decadence.
Her breasts swelled full and sensitive against his chest. Her nipples hardened, begging to escape her bra and have Marc’s bare skin against hers.
He caressed her breasts through the satin material, and the sheer delight of his hands on her made her weak. He whispered, “I want to make love with you, Julia.”
Her insides melted.
“More than I ever wanted to make love in my life and that’s going some.”
His dazzling blue eyes met hers. “The question, Julia Dempsey, is what do you want?”
Three
Having sex with Marc Adams was not on her list of things she wanted to do at forty-one, but it sure as heck should be. “You really want me?”
The faint light spilling over into the oversized coatroom from the hallway cast shadows across his face. He gave her a smile that looked wolfish in the dim light, and he said in a husky voice, “Oh, babe.”
Babe? She was a forty-one-year-old babe! His erection pressed more intimately against her middle, and she marveled at the strength of the zipper keeping it in check…then she considered it not in check. A fast pulse beat at the juncture of her legs. Prickles of heat ran up her spine and neck. She gulped. “In a coatroom?”
He kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, the bra unsnapped. Holy smoke! In a coatroom!
“If we use my room upstairs or your apartment,” he said against her lips, “the whole town’s talking by morning.”
Star Quality Page 17
