by Kim Law
“You going to tell me it honestly felt like good-bye to you, Andie?” He stroked along her neck, dipping his thumb to the pulse at the base of her throat. It was not beating slowly. “Because if so, I’d be willing to wager that you’d take another good-bye right now.”
“What it felt like was two people who once knew how to kiss each other, who …” She paused, and he felt her throat rise and fall with a swallow. She twisted her hand, which still rested in his, and freed herself but didn’t pull back. “Who … apparently needed to kiss and get it out of their system. And they needed to kiss good-bye.”
He grinned. He’d always been able to fluster her. The wine seemed to be helping, too. Plus, she was cute when she drank. “Then how about we kiss good-bye for the next two weeks?”
“No.” Her eyes rounded. “Why would we do that?”
He pushed an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, and knowing she wasn’t wearing a bra, forced himself not to lower his gaze to her T-shirt. But he couldn’t keep from leaning in and whispering in her ear, “Because it would be … So. Much. Fun.”
She shoved him, and he allowed her to put space between them but didn’t let her get up and walk away. He wanted to discuss this. It could be exactly what they both needed.
“Okay, serious,” he said. “Here it is. From what I’m guessing we’re both unattached?”
He left it as a question, and as he sat there waiting, she finally looked away from him and made a face but gave a little nod.
“Good.” He nodded, too, then turned her back to him. “And I suspect we both could stand a break from working so hard. I’m here, you’re here — we both know how good it could be between us.” He shrugged, hoping she was buying his casual tone. “No strings attached. Why not?”
Those eyes that still had a way of getting to him — even today — blinked, and then scanned slowly down over him as if she were trying to determine if he was worth spending her free time with. She’d already checked him out once when she’d first realized he was on the deck with her, but this time was different. This time it was as if she was viewing him as a potential bed partner. As he watched her gaze inch down his body, the jeans he wore became tight.
Maybe a two-week, no-strings affair was just what he needed to push her from his mind and finally move on. Because he couldn’t go back to Boston still thinking about her.
Finally, she opened her mouth and shocked him with the words that came out. “Because you already know how to maneuver the landscape?”
He cringed. “Where did that come from?”
She turned away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Rob told me he suggested you maneuver my landscape while you’re here.”
“Awww, that’s just wrong. You should know I never listen to Rob when it comes to women. The guy has the couth of a caveman.” He reached out and nudged her face back around to his. “No, sunshine,” he whispered, shocked at the amount of feeling in the words. “This has nothing to do with Rob. It’s just between you and me. And I think we need to let this play out.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, her nervousness clear on her face.
He tried reminding himself that she’d only wanted him for his name. That she’d worked so much she’d barely even remembered he was there. But none of it mattered.
He wanted her naked, and he wanted her in his bed.
And he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to stop until he got her there.
“I came out here tonight to make a list of all the men I’m going to ask out over the next few weeks,” Andie admitted.
That caught him off guard. He jerked himself back, putting distance between them. A hot flare of an emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge lit inside him. Though she’d likely dated plenty of men since they’d been together, the thought of her going out with someone else suddenly irritated the hell out of him.
“Or you could just date me for the next two weeks.” Desperate much?
A smart man wouldn’t go down this path, but he admitted to himself that he wasn’t so sure he was smart. She was cute and hot and sweet, and all he could focus on was wanting her naked and writhing in his arms.
As she thought through her options, he grabbed her hand and slipped his fingers between hers, tugging her closer. He’d always enjoyed spending quiet time with her like this, and tonight was no different
“You about finished thinking it over?” he asked.
“No.” She lowered her gaze to the broken glass on the concrete between them and snuck her free hand out behind her to find the open bottle. When she tilted it up to her mouth and finished off the wine, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud again, unconcerned whether Phillip Jordan heard them or not.
“Encouragement in a bottle, babe?”
She swiped her mouth on the back of her hand, the neck of the bottle still in her grip, and grinned. And he fell a little harder. “More like hoping it’ll make me so drowsy I fall asleep before answering you.”
Oh. He had her. He just had to wait for her to come around.
“Come on.” He stood up and took the empty bottle from her. “I’m going to put you to bed.”
When she began to protest, he stressed, “Alone,” and pulled her to her feet.
“I’m giving you a day to think about it,” he finished. “One day."
She let him tug her along behind him to her open door. “Leave the door open when you leave,” she murmured. She was practically asleep on her feet. “I like to hear it rain.”
Before he crossed into her room, he stopped and looked back at her. The tips of her hair floated in the wind, dancing around her face, and she swayed sleepily on her feet. Her eyes were already closed. He scooped her up and tucked her in tight against his chest. “You’re going to fall flat on your face before I get you to bed,” he murmured.
Instead of answering — or complaining that he’d picked her up — she burrowed her cheek against his chest, her hot breath puffing across his bare skin and sending vibrations skittering over every inch his body. He stood unmoving, fighting the urge to return to the past. They had been really good at one point.
When her arm slipped over his shoulder to hook around his neck, he stiffly turned to her darkened room and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. He was tucking her into bed to sleep tonight. Sleep, he reminded himself. He pulled in a deep breath. That’s all.
He glanced down at the gentle curve of her face — her eyes closed, her mouth soft and relaxed — and felt his own lips curve involuntarily. She was exquisite.
As he moved through her room, he checked it out with more than the cursory glance he’d given it when he’d gone in for the wine. The layout very similar to his room, though hers was larger and much more frilly. There were pillows everywhere, a set of shelves that held an assortment of knickknacks, baskets, photos, and books. There were also what appeared to be a handful of decorative boxes stacked under the small bedside table.
Who kept boxes for no reason other than they looked pretty? He supposed there could be something useful in them, but he would lay money down, based on the way they were stacked in such a precise pattern, that they were for aesthetic purposes only.
Stopping beside her bed, he tossed pillows to the floor and tugged back the ruffled bedspread — and only then did he allow himself to look back down at her. She was watching him.
“You sleeping in the shorts?” he asked. His windpipe had narrowed, and the words came out as a strangled whisper. “Or should I help you into pajamas?”
Her gaze lowered to her clothes long enough to let him know that she was considering door number two. Oh, hell no. He quickly settled her on the mattress, almost dropping her in his haste, and yanked the covers up to her neck.
“Never mind,” he said, his voice as tight as his skin suddenly felt. “It’ll have to be the shorts tonight. Or you can change after I’m gone. But this is me being a gentleman, sunshine. So I beg of you, do not take those shorts off in front of me.”
A light
note of laughter floated up from the bed, and he wanted to lean down and hug her to him. At one point in their lives he’d been the person who made her laugh every day.
He couldn’t resist pressing his lips to her forehead, though. And he lingered there against her warm skin. “Get a good night’s, sleep,” he whispered.
Thick eyelashes rested against her cheeks, and the sight flipped something over in his chest. He needed to keep this light. Fun. Otherwise at least one of them was going to get hurt.
And one just might not get over it. Again.
The next afternoon, four-foot-ten-inch Viola Bean, otherwise known to her friends as “Vanilla” Bean, scooted in beside Andie at the senior center, and peered over her bifocals at the basket Andie was making.
“Show me how you do that again,” Mrs. Bean said.
Andie smiled and put her basket down, helping the older woman by wrapping her hands over Mrs. Bean’s more frail ones and showing her in slow motion how to twist the vines into the weaving pattern they had learned that day.
“It’s the same moves, over and over again,” Andie said. “For the next sixteen rows.”
Mrs. Bean nodded, her head bobbing with its fringe of white hair tinged in blue. She scrunched up her face in concentration, taking another stab at it while Andie moved around the room to ensure no one else needed help. All were diligently focused on their projects except Chester Brownbomb, who was spending more time watching Vanilla Bean than working on his own basket.
Both of them had spouses who’d passed, and if Andie were to guess, she’d say Chester had his eye on Vanilla for his next conquest. The man thought he was the Don Juan of the senior center. And apparently most of the women there thought so, too. They lined up for his attention.
She shook her head at the romantic madness running rampant through the group but grinned when Chester caught her watching him. He gave her a big wink. She loved coming there. It was zero pressure, she was doing something she loved, and she was helping make people happy. It was good all around.
“I got it!” Vanilla squealed, and Andie laughed with true happiness. “My daughter is going to love this basket.”
“You’re not keeping it for yourself?” Andie crossed back to Mrs. Bean.
“No. Her birthday is next month. She likes it when I give her handmade gifts.”
Andie suspected the daughter probably also liked knowing that her mother was taking part in activities she enjoyed. Being fulfilled in life was a nice reward for surviving it.
When Andie was assured that everyone was sufficiently engrossed in their tasks, she headed to the other side of the room to sit beside Roni and Ginger. Her friends made a habit of dropping in on her weekly classes. It was a fun way to spend a couple hours together. But since the class was for seniors only, Andie put them to work whenever she needed extra hands.
Not that Ginger was much help, nor was Roni patient enough to do much more than damage, but both would do in a pinch.
Now the two of them smiled at her expectantly, and Andie let out a groan, knowing what was coming.
“Is this going to be about Mark, or about me dating? Because I have news on both fronts,” she said.
Roni raised her shapely brows. She was the cultured one of their group, and as such she would be taking the women in the wedding party on a shopping expedition on Saturday. At the same time, Ginger would entertain the men with a deep-sea fishing trip several miles off the coast. It was a pretty good deal, having friends who could help with wedding activities.
Ginger poked at her lopsided basket with a finger, then frowned when it sagged inward where she’d touched it. “How do you get it tight enough not to do that?” she asked. When Andie started to answer, Ginger waved her off, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about baskets — I want to talk about you. And Mark. Tell us what’s happened since Sunday night.”
“You mean since you both deserted me on the beach with the man who’d once crushed my heart?”
Roni nodded, unmoved by the play for guilt. “Exactly. What happened? Have you talked?”
“Have you kissed?” Ginger added.
Andie’s jaw dropped open. “What would make you think we’ve kissed? Wasn’t I supposed to get closure?”
“Well, yeah,” Ginger agreed. “But that doesn’t mean closure wouldn’t involve kissing.”
“Really?” Andie eyed her friend, shocked by the words coming out of her mouth, then turned to the other side of the table to study Roni. Roni’s annoyed expression said she wasn’t as gung ho for the kissing thing, but she didn’t voice the words don’t go for it, either.
Which made no sense. Had Andie been a betting woman, she would have laid odds that not kissing Mark would be near the top of their list of priorities.
“What would make it okay to kiss the man who once left me at the altar?” She asked the question as if she were not guilty of that very act. She would eventually have to confess but not quite yet.
Ginger’s light green eyes went a little hazy. “Because he looks like a Greek god.”
Roni shrugged, a sign that she agreed — he looked like a Greek god — and Andie shook her head at both of them.
“That’s it?” she asked. “Because he’s hot? So … what? Should I sleep with him, too?” Because oh, she wanted to.
Ginger sucked in a quick breath but offered no additional thoughts.
“What about him breaking my heart again?” Andie asked.
“How could he do that?” Roni’s voice was the portrait of incredulity. “You know what he’s like now. So yeah, if you wanted to use him for a little R&R while he’s here, seems to me you’d have the upper hand this time. Not that I’m suggesting it — I’m merely pointing out the facts.”
“I’m suggesting it,” Ginger plugged in.
Andie sputtered in indignation. “I cannot believe you said that.”
Before anyone could say anything more, Andie detected an issue brewing across the room. She narrowed her eyes in Chester’s direction. He’d moved over to Ms. Sherman’s table and was openly flirting, while Vanilla Bean eyed the two of them and was clearly getting her feathers ruffled.
Andie went to break up the blue-haired catfight before it erupted, and sent Roni and Ginger to help two other ladies who needed more vines for their bowls.
“Chester!” Andie was determined to sound stern as she approached. He wore an instant look of a devil, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She would have laughed, but doing so might have hurt one — if not both — of the women’s feelings. “Why don’t you work on your own basket for a while?”
“How about I come sit with you and the two cuties and work on it?” Chester said, waggling his bushy eyebrows at her.
Andie furrowed her brow and pointed a finger at his seat. “Your basket, Chester. There are no rewards for bad behavior in my class.”
“Well, you’re no fun at all.” His grumble was good-natured, and she couldn’t contain her laughter any longer.
Instead of returning to her seat, she settled down beside Chester and worked with him until she was sure that he had the pattern down — and that he wasn’t intent on stirring up more trouble.
She made another sweep through the room, stopping at each table to chat with different people, helping if they needed it. They all liked to talk, and sharing a few moments in their worlds was one of her favorite parts of the day. She enjoyed hearing their stories, seeing life through their eyes. The conversations made her wish she could be as unconcerned with trivial things as most of them seemed to be.
Maybe someday.
Today she had a business to run.
And a house to save.
Finally, Roni and Ginger headed to the table the three of them had occupied, and Andie made her way in the same direction. They had a conversation to finish.
And she had to figure out what to do about Mark. He’d said he’d give her one day to think about his suggestion. That meant he’d seek her out that night. Her girl parts tingled at th
e very thought. Which wasn’t a good indication that she was going to say no.
If she agreed to an affair, would it start tonight?
She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling as she had the thought: it had better.
Once seated, Andie turned her gaze to Roni’s. “So?” she asked, picking the conversation back up where they’d left off. “What do you really think? Should I consider doing the wild thing with Mark while he’s here?”
Roni held her hands out in front of her, palms turned up. “It’s been a long, dry spell for you, sweetie. If you want a summer fling, I’d say he’d give you one. I saw the way he looked at you the other day. There are memories there. Naked ones.”
Yeah, she had some of her own, too. Especially after he’d carried her to her bed the night before. But did she really want to go there? She’d just gotten closure. Was it worth risking it for a few nights of fun?
She let her eyelids drift shut. She had to tell her friends about last night.
Lowering her face into her hands, she hid behind her fingers and muttered, “He actually suggested a fling last night.”
A soft gasp came from Andie’s right, but Andie once again focused her attention on Roni. She was the practical one.
“So you think I should go for it? Date him while he’s here?” Andie asked.
“God, no,” Roni stated emphatically. “Don’t date him. Just do him. If you want to. Geez, I’m thinking of doing his friend myself. Did you catch how hot Gray is?”
And Roni would. She was more worldly than Andie or Ginger. She could easily do the carefree summer fling.
Andie wasn’t yet so sure she could.
Or should.
“Wait,” Roni said, holding up a hand. “Last night … you talked about this last night? You didn’t do it already, did you?”
“Of course not!”
Ginger shoved the dilapidated basket she had worked on earlier to the side and leaned in with both elbows on the table. “But do you want to?” she whispered.
